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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

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trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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kaiser1ns · 30 days

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𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

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NOW PLAYING "00:00" BY BTS

╹synopsis :: good luck appears suddenly, even if it's just for little while, but there is always hope and faith for another tomorrow.

╹contents :: MAP OF THE SOUL PT. 2, 2.4k words, fluff + angst, KAISER BACKSTORY TW: physical abuse, alcohol.

╹taglist :: @chaosinanutshell @rinitoshisgirl @thebluelockroyals

Closing the door as he heard a glass breaking once he stepped outside in the sun that shined upon him, giving some type of warmth as he put the black hood over his head walking away from the so called 'home'. As Michael strolled through the neighborhood, the faint jingle of a bell caught his attention. Pausing, he realized the sound ceased whenever he stopped. Strange, the boy though and continued walking, the bells chiming anew as he moved forward. Turning, he spotted a sleek black cat with a white collar and a bell attached to it.

A lost cat? Kneeling down, he inspected the collar, discovering the cat's name, Felicity, and a phone number. Too bad he didn't have a phone to call and get the cat out of here. Well, there's nothing for me to do. He patted the cat on the head, got up and continued to walk aimlessly leaving the animal behind. Michael was now a little further away, and there was no sound of the tinkling of a bell. Maybe the cat found its owner already and is taken care of by receiving treats and pats.

Speaking of treats his stomach rumbled, and before he went out, he took a little bit of his savings in case of getting hungry. It was strange for him to go into the store and buy something instead of stealing it like his father wanted him to do. He took the most ordinary sandwich with ham, cheese and some sauce. When he was at the register paying, he saw the candy Y/N gave him as a reward — he will keep the location of the sweets in mind.

Walking out of the store, holding the soccer ball in one hand and the sandwich in the other, the blonde boy made his way to the playground where he first saw the girl two weeks ago, and sadly he hadn't seen her since. Well the boy can't blame her — she probably went to school and has other close friends to hangout with, something he doesn't have. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the graffiti wall he began to eat, until suddenly the sound of a bell was heard again.

Michael looked up, his eyes locking with the familiar black cat from earlier. She mewed at him, her white collar glinting in the sunlight as she approached rubbing at his leg. He couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "You again, huh?" he murmured, tearing off a piece of ham from his sandwich and offering it to her.

The cat wasted no time, devouring the ham eagerly. Once they both finished their meal he got up and without hesitation, started dribbling and kicking the ball around. To his surprise, the cat seemed intrigued, her paw batting at the ball whenever it came close. It reminded him of someone, though he couldn't quite put his finger on who. Michael took a break, sitting back against the wall and Felicity wasted no time in curling up in his lap, purring contentedly as he stroked her fur. It was a rare moment of peace for him, every time he goes out it's his free time from the prison with the awful guard that stayed in. He cherished moments like that more than anything and he wished to see Y/N again, so they can play together and maybe win another pack of candy.

As he enjoyed the quiet moment with the cat, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning his head, he saw the angel in disguise running towards him, clutching a poster in her hand that had a photo of the now sleeping pet. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her bright smile and eyes that were glossy, Did she cry?, he wondered but her sad face was quickly replaced upon seeing the boy.

"Michael!" the girl exclaimed, relief evident in her childish voice as she reached him. "Thank you for finding Felicity! I was so worried to where she could have gone."

A smile graced Michael's lips as he realized the cat belonged to her. No wonder it reminded him of someone he knew. "I didn't know it was yours," he admitted, still patting the sleeping feline. "She just followed me all day."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "She has this habit of following people, though it was only family members and not one of my friends." The word friends echoed in Michael's mind, stirring something warm and unfamiliar in his chest. He looked into Y/N eyes, feeling something that he had never imagined to exist, as if he was lost in the galaxy with millions of stars to explore, falling deeper and deeper into the black holes, losing himself. What's this feeling? Why is my heart beating so fast? He couldn't figure it out, what's happening inside him, and why is she the reason for it?

"And you know animals can sense if a person is good or not, so she chose you for a reason." Michael couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth at your words, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm glad I could help," he replied softly, his gaze still locked with yours. "And I'm glad you were here, because I was going to ask you to help me, but there is no need anymore."

There was a moment of silence between them, Michael shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next. But before he could gather his thoughts, Y/N spoke again, her voice gentle and caring.

"Michael, are you okay?" she asked, eyes searching his face with concern. "Where did you hurt yourself?"

For a moment, panic gripped Michael's chest as he instinctively reached for the hood of his jacket, pulling it over his head to hide the scar his father had left that morning. "I fell very hard on the ground while dribbling," he lied, of course he would lie not to make her worry about his personal matters and mostly not to scare her, because what if she tells her parents about him being abused? It will not end well.

The girl frowned, clearly not convinced by his answer. But instead of pressing further, she reached into her bag and pulled out some pink bandages. "Sorry, it's the only color I have left," apologizing, a small smile playing on her lips as she gently applied the bandage to his forehead.

Michael's heart swelled as he watched Y/N tend to him with such care and kindness. Despite his best efforts to keep his struggles hidden, she always seemed to see right through him, offering comfort and support without hesitation. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, but one he found himself craving more and more with each passing day.

As she finished bandaging his wound, Michael couldn't help but meet the girl's gaze once again, his eyes soft and vulnerable — a child's look. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but it was genuine.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N lips as she reached out to tuck a hair behind his ear, wanting to see his beautiful and gentle face. "Anytime, Michael, friends help eachother."

For twelve year old he thought she was very mature, always so kind, so gentle — a beacon of light in his otherwise dark world. He couldn't help but be jealous at her innocence and grace, hoping that she would never lose that spark, unlike him, cursed by the mistakes of two adults.

"Also I'm sorry for not showing up, I know you must have been waiting for me"

He just stared at the girl slowly nodding his head acknowledging what she said but he wasn't mad, not even in the slightest. The cat who slept in Michael's lap woke up and went to her owner "Felicity don't you run away like that!" Y/N scolded the cat but of course the animal just let out a 'meow' as she laughed enjoying a moment with her pet then she looked back at Michael who was still staring.

"Hey, Misha, do you want to play tomorrow?"

"Misha?" Y/N giggled, noticing Michael's uncertain expression at the nickname. "Sorry, is it okay if I call you Misha? It just popped into my head, and it's kinda cute, don't you think?"

Michael blinked, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he processed her words. "I mean, sure, yeah," he replied, his voice softening at the end. Looking doen kicking the ball with his feet to distract himself from the burning tension in his body. He couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at the sound of her calling him by that name.

Y/N grinned, delighted by Michael's response. "Great! Misha it is then." She scooted closer, her excitement bubbling over. "So, tomorrow, let's meet at the playground at 14:00. We can play some soccer, swing on the swings, and I can give you the cookies I made. What do you say?"

Michael's heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with Y/N. "Yeah, that sounds cool," he said, his smile widening. "I'll be here."

As they continued chatting, Y/N suddenly leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Hey, Misha, can I ask you something more?"

"Yeah," Michael replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Y/N hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to ask, "Um, do you have a phone? I thought maybe we could exchange numbers so we can call eachother for when to play."

Michael's cheeks flushed even deeper as he nervously played with the ball. "Um, actually, I don't have a phone," he admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment. "Sorry."

Y/N's smile didn't falter as she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. "Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it," she reassured him "We can still meet up here at the playground whenever we want to hang out, okay? And if anyone of us doesn't show up we can always see eachother the next time."

A sense of relief washed over Michael as he gazed into Y/N's comforting gaze. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, feeling grateful for her understanding. With a bright smile the youngster nodded, her eyes filled with happiness. "See you tomorrow at 14:00 then?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," the young boy replied, his smile matching hers as they made plans for their next date. Y/N and Michael stood facing each other as the silence fell, but it was calm and pleasant, not oppressive as if they were expecting some monster to come out of nowhere.

"Thanks for looking after Felicity," Y/N said softly, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on Michael's cheek, it was a tender action, making him melt on the spot, something so simple meant a lot — it was his first kiss, his first touch filled not with anger and hatred but instead of love and care. She was causing his heart to flutter even more, was it not enough for his heart to beat so fast earlier?

"It was no problem," Michael replied, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. With a shy smile, she turned to leave, her cat cradled in her arms. Watching her go, feeling a sense of longing already creeping into his chest as he didn't want this moment to end, not now, not ever. Michael touched his cheek gently, still feeling the warmth of her lips lingering there, is this what it feels like to be blessed with angel's grace? He hopes he will get to experience it again. Realizing he was standing alone in the fading light, the sounds of laughter and play fading into the distance.

He took a deep breath and he was infront of his home, his heart now heavy with the weight of the inevitable goodbye and the welcoming sounds of glass breaking.

Opening the door he was met with his drunk father who was watching TV but he didn't seem entertained and the bottles and trash on the ground made it for the energy in the house. But before the boy stepped further into the room he removed the patch from his forehead because he knew there would be even more scars if a bystander helped him and he wanted to keep Y/N safe.

His father's eyes snapped towards him, bloodshot and furious.

"Why the hell aren't you home earlier?" His father's voice boomed, shaking the walls of their small house. "I told you to be back hours ago, you useless piece of shit!"

The boy swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to appease his father's anger. "I'm sorry, Dad. I lost track of time."

"Lost track of time?" His father's voice rose, the frustration palpable in every word as he got up from the couch. "And where's the damn alcohol I asked you to bring,huh?"

The boy's heart sank. He had hoped his father wouldn't notice, but the empty bottles strewn across the floor were impossible to miss. "I... I couldn't find any," he stammered, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

The older man's face turned a dangerous shade of red. His eyes widened, his pupils narrowed, and the emotions he displayed were enough to scare anyone. Maybe it's better for his mother that she's gone so she doesn't have to see this, even though that she is the cause of everything. "Couldn't find any? You stupid pig..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the boy's father lunged towards him, his words drowned out by a tidal wave of anger and disappointment. The boy braced himself for the onslaught, knowing that this was just another night in their tumultuous existence. But amidst the chaos, he made a silent vow to be stronger so he can have another day to see his angel.

With a swift motion, his father's hand connected with his cheek, the same cheek Y/N kissed him now is tarnished, sending him crashing to the ground. He layed there, stunned and helpless, as his father's tirade continued, the sound of breaking glass punctuating each sentence. There was no defense, no escape from the torrent of anger that engulfed him. All he could do was endure, his body trembling with fear and resignation but he was already so used to it.

Each blow, both physical and verbal, carved deeper into his already bruised soul. But through the haze of pain and despair, one thought burned brighter than the rest: he had to stay strong, for her. For the hope of a better tomorrow, where he could see his blessing sent from above, but why isn't he blessed with good fortune right now? Is his suffering not enough, dear God?

As his father's rage finally subsided, leaving only a hollow silence in its wake, the boy clung to that flicker of hope, knowing it was all he had to hold onto. Will something be different? But this day will be over when the minute and second hands overlap as the world holds its breath for a little while.

Felicity means happiness, good fortune

#✧* 🤍 blue lock #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #x reader #blue lock x you #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser #kaiser #blue lock kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x reader #blue lock manga #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #blue lock imagines

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 2 months

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Ex-Boyfriend John Price MiniFic

Thinking of your ex-boyfriend John Price seeing you again for the first time after a nasty break-up that essentially didn't go as planned by him.

You knew what you were getting into when entering a relationship with a man who was a workaholic. You knew it was always a priority but you never thought that it had to be an ultimatum between you and that, clearly you were an idiot to think you were more important.

If only you hadn't asked his friend, why was he prolonging his time with you if his decision was set to end it with you when he got the promotion? What exactly would change in that short amount of time?

That night ended in screams, no matter how much John tried to tell you he loves you, it fell on deaf ears. "Actions speak louder than words" was always the saying and you know what? That applies to this, it applies to everything he's ever made you felt and the lack of exchange.

You tried so hardly to not discredit the past, but maybe he just used you. He only tolerated your love like it's a minor convenience for him, you were already there, it's not like he could be picky on who chooses to take care of him.

But who cares right? That was three years ago and you two live separate lives now. John was out there doing god knows what with his colleagues drinking his nights away as he took another woman in bed every night in hopes to drown you out his mind.

If it wasn't for his friend's influence that one drunken night, John wouldn't have said yes to attending a black-tie event. Wasn't ever his thing really, fancy settings with stuffy clothes.

He tried to fit in as far as he could, pretending to stare at whatever painting or sculpture he can spot when in reality no thoughts or feelings except one thing.

He was never one to appreciate or understand what most art try to convey but he once knew someone who did. This was a place you would've thrived in and maybe some part of him wanted you to be there, some sick joke life was playing really.

His whole body froze right as he knew it. There you were, that silk baby pink dress that just made you glow paired with that white fur shawl that he remembers you showed off to him. How adorable you were telling him that it caught your eye and might be useful at a formal event.

Something he thought he'd only ever see in his dreams again.

Barely blinking as you stared at the painting mounted on the wall with this golden frame, you expression deep in thought yet your eyes were glassed with admiration.

What does he do? Without thinking, he stepped forward in hopes that his body would be strong enough to be able to approach you.

He was about to when.. a man approaches you, embracing you from behind. You were caught of guard but you quickly realize who it was and it was clear to John what your familiarity was with this man.

The image of the man burying his face on the nape of your neck was more than enough to cruelly twist the knife in his heart that's been lodged there for the past 3 years.

Those three words uttered by the man, loud enough for John to hear, the same one you'd always tell him but he rarely returned for a reason he himself is unaware of.

The sound of the camera clicks snapped Price out of his trance, paparazzi, who wouldn't want to capture an intimate, romantic moment between a couple who both happened to be rich?

He couldn't do anything to fix this even if he tried, for all he knew you were now in the arms of a influential, dangerous man who would destroy John's life if he wanted to. He gulps, not knowing what to do..

My CoD Masterlist

A/n: Was this inspired by that one scene from Twisted LIes?? Idk what you're talking about 👀 ALSO DON'T SPOIL ME, I'M ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH THE BOOK

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

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writella · 4 months

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Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s nearing midnight.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever.

“8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him, no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time. For once he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won. He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

#negan smith smut #negan smith x reader #negan smith fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead #negan smith

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anna-hawk · 10 months

Text

The Eggnog Effect

Nicomund the Red | Santa Claus x F!Reader

Summary: You passed out on your friend's couch and wake up to find Santa Claus leaving a gift for your godchild.

WC: 6.2k // Explicit 🔞

Warnings: Christmas smut, bad jokes and cheesy wordplays

For @roguesandsaviors who's love for David Harbour triggered me into trying my hand at writing smut for someone else than Jon 😁

Also on AO3

You frowned as you slowly woke up, wondering about the small tinkling sound that got you out of your slumber in the first place. Cracking one eye open, you tried to make out your immediate surroundings, but your face was smushed into a pillow. A throw pillow, to be more precise.

Ever since the birth of your godchild, your best friend and husband had started asking you to spend Christmas Eve with them. How could you say no to witnessing the kid’s eyes growing big with wonder after discovering the presents lying underneath the Christmas tree?

Usually, though, you spent the night in the guest bedroom and not on the living room couch. You berated yourself for the sore neck you were likely getting from the sleeping position and grumbling internally about the long hours spent at work today that resulted in your exhaustion when you heard that noise again.

Blinking and opening both eyes now, you glimpsed some movement to the side of the couch, where you knew the Christmas tree to be. As you twisted to your back, your eyes caught onto something red and large and…

“Oh God, I really need to leave off the eggnog next time… I’m actually seeing Santa now,” you groaned and quickly rubbed over your tired eyes.

Except that there was that tinkling again, more agitated, which made you open your eyes once more only to be met by the sight of a large man standing stock still just a few feet away from you. His wide eyes stared at you with a mix of panic and annoyance.

“Oh shit,” you breathed as realization sank in, and you understood that your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you but that there was a stranger in the house and… You opened your mouth to scream, but the man was on you in a fraction of a second. A large palm covered the entire lower half of your face and stopped you from uttering any sound, while the other hand held the man up on the armrest under your head.

“Shhh,” he hissed, his eyes lifting to the entrance of the living room to check if anyone was coming, before they bore into yours.

Oddly enough, and maybe it was still the eggnog talking, you didn’t try to fight, despite the way his large frame loomed over you. You didn’t move at all, actually, as you met his gaze. The only thought going through your mind was, oh, he’s got blue eyes. You stayed in the same position for several more seconds, his eyes never leaving yours as he assessed the situation. Realizing that you weren’t going to out him, the man slowly removed his hand from you and stood. You stayed where you were, observing him curiously; the white blond curly beard and hair under an askew red and white cap, the deep red leather coat lined with white fur spanning over a wide chest and shoulders, a pair of shiny, black boots. Everything about him screamed Santa Claus, but he was also nothing like the various men playing Santa in malls and other places. Those other Santas had also never elicited such a strong response from your body, either.

“Who are you?” you breathed, mindful to keep your voice down, when really, the question should have been what are you doing here? Or, what do you want?

“Who do you think I am?” he grumbled, while you watched him glare at a small bag and rummage around in it with a frustrated expression.

Your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets when the man thrust his whole arm into the bag, and it just vanished inside, which should have been impossible given how tiny the bag was compared to his arm.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“I didn’t know that Santa swears,” you snorted at the absolutely crazy sight in front of you.

“He does when the presents aren’t where they’re fucking meant to be,” he muttered, before his face turned into a satisfied grin. “Aha.” His arm slowly came back out, followed by a large, neatly wrapped present.

You blinked in rapid succession as you took in the size of the present and the size of the bag again. Yup, something was definitely up. A bicycle, for a five-year-old or not, would never fit in that bag if something… You snorted to yourself as the word magical ran through your mind. Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. But then the man pulled out an actual scroll of parchment, which started to glow as he pulled it apart. Sitting up, you stared at the man as he scanned the contents of the scroll with a thoughtful look.

“What’s that? Your naughty and nice list?” you sniggered, while pulling your legs under you on the couch and letting your eyes drift over him appreciatively.

“Mmhm,” he replied absently, seemingly looking for something in particular.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his easy admittance, before you began laughing under your breath.

“Tell me, Santa. Am I on your naughty list?” You leaned your head against your palm and rested your elbow on the armrest, smirking as you drawled the word naughty.

“Nope,” he answered instantly, while your flirty expression went completely unseen since he still didn’t look at you.

You frowned curiously at his reply and tilted your head to one side before slowly getting up and approaching him. This, at least, seemed to catch his attention because his eyes snapped to you as soon as you moved. He watched you with a slight frown. Curious.

“You sure?” you grinned.

This was all absolutely crazy. There was a fucking stranger in your friends’ house, pretending to be Santa and looking damn fine in that role, yet here you were, flirting outrageously with him anyway, when flirting usually felt awkward to you. The eggnog definitely was at play here.

He chuckled and said your name. Your full name, which had you stopping dead in your tracks as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“You’ve never been on the naughty list once,” he finished with a shrug.

“How… Who…”

How could he know your name? If he were a burglar, he’d probably only know your friends’ names since they were on the mailbox. He could have looked them up and seen your name popup in your best friend’s feeds on social media, but to what end? He’d just left a goddamn bike for your godchild instead of taking something. And that bag? That wasn’t a trick.

The man sighed deeply. “Adults,” he muttered, before thinking for a second. “Do you remember what you wished for on Christmas when you were eight?”

Taken aback by the question, you frowned and thought for a second before memories hit you, and you nodded as you opened your mouth to reply. Except that he said the same thing as you did at the exact same time as you. You took in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he know that? It was far too specific to be a random guess. Only if…

“So what are you going to do when you leave? Pull a Men In Black and wipe my memory or something?” You crossed your arms with a chuckle as your brain accepted the crazy truth.

He snorted and shrugged. “Trust me, the very few people who have actually seen me have never talked about me. And if they did,” he trailed off with another meaningful shrug that clearly said, who’s gonna believe them?

You nodded faintly at his logic. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m curious, though… What’s your actual name? Santa? Kris? Nick?” You headed to where your godchild had left the cookies and milk and picked up the plate with the cookies. You chose one for yourself and offered one to… Santa.

He took a cookie but didn’t look away from you, his head shaking in amusement a second later.

“Really? Of all the things you could ask, that’s what you wanna know?”

You shrugged and bit off a piece of cookie, the man doing the same before he glanced down at it with an appreciative sound and nod, then looked into your expectant face again.

“You can call me whatever you want. The list is pretty long.”

“But none of them are correct,” you surmised, watching him reach for the milk glass and taking a large gulp. “How about… Daddy Christmas?”

You had to hold back your loud laugh as he sprayed his mouthful all over his front at your words. He tried to cough as silently as he could and shot you a death glare as you stood there with a satisfied grin on your face.

“Am I on the naughty list yet?”

His nostrils flared as he wiped crumbs and milk off his beard and coat before he stalked over towards you until he was in your face.

“You should be more careful with what you wish for, girl,” he growled, yet instead of feeling threatened, you felt more than turned on.

“Oh? What are you gonna do? Give me your big lump of coal?” you breathed, loving how big and tall he was.

Santa blinked at you once, twice, then burst into laughter, which had you smiling broadly.

“Gotta admit, this was a new one.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but something chimed close by, which had him checking his watch. “Fuck!”

Picking up two other cookies, he headed towards the fireplace and lifted a finger to his nose, sparks firing as he did so, but then he looked back at you.

“Nicomund,” he said softly, which had your eyes widen at the revelation of his name.

He smiled and pressed his gloved finger against his nose.

“Merry Christmas.”

He was gone in a swish of golden sparks a second later.

One year later

Dressed in a festive pair of pajamas, you yawed widely as you looked at the clock sitting in the midst of Christmas decorations on the mantelpiece. You stretched your arms over your head and shook your head to try fending the sleepiness off.

You were back at your friends’ house and sitting on the same couch as last year. Last year, when you’d met the actual Santa Claus. You’d spent weeks doing research on the origins of Christmas, yet none of the results had been conclusive in any form. You’d guessed that people truly didn’t usually see him like he’d told you. After a while, you almost wanted to believe that the whole thing had only been a dream, coming from too much eggnog and sleep-deprivation. Except that he’d given you his name. Nicomund. You couldn’t have dreamed that up. The name had actually given you some vague results as you’d given it in. Nicomund the Red, a former viking warrior. Who was supposed to have lived over a thousand years ago. Considering what you’d witnessed, you didn’t even think it that farfetched that they could be one and the same person. The way he’d talked had clearly hinted at the fact that he’d been doing this for a very long time. He knew who you were. Even as a child. Yet, he didn’t look older than his late forties or early fifties.

As much as you enjoyed loosing yourself in fantasies in books and so on, you considered yourself as a pragmatic person in real life. You liked facts and magic, while a fun concept, had never seemed like something real. And yet… After what you’d seen…

That’s why you wanted to stay awake on Christmas Eve. Prove that you hadn’t actually dreamed everything up. And you might have also wanted to see him again, just because. It was ridiculous. You hadn’t been able to go on a date the whole past year, Nicomund popping up in your head at random times. The way you’d felt attracted to him had left you reeling. He’d been in full Santa gear, yet all you’d been able to see were his blue eyes, his large frame and drawling deep voice, the combination lighting your entire body up.

Your eyes drifted to the clock again, watching the time slowly approach one in the morning. Resting your head against the couch, you closed your eyes and sighed. A very comfortable bed was waiting for you just down the hall, and your body wanted nothing more than to sink into it and sleep after the long day you’d had again. But what if you missed him? Your fingers curled around a folded up piece of paper resting on your lap. Just in case, you’d written him a note, requesting him to wake you up if you were to fall asleep. With your eyes still closed, you smirked to yourself at the few lines you’d written. Maybe you could tell him yourself later. You would open your eyes in a second. You were just resting them a bit.

Weren’t you supposed to be asleep for Santa to show up?

The next thing you heard was a loud and excited scream coming from close by, having you jerk awake in your bed… Bed? Sitting up quickly, you realized that you were lying in the guest bedroom. When had you moved there? The last thing you remembered was that you’d been sitting on the couch and fiddling with the note. The thought of the note had you looking all around yourself and the floor, yet there was nothing there. Quickly getting up and slipping into a pair of warm slippers, you almost ran to the living room to look for the note. The only thing you found was your godchild gushing about the presents sitting under the tree, your friends standing around him with broad smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” they called at nearly the same time as they saw you walk in.

Tearing your eyes away from the couch and the floor, you schooled your features into a bright smile and replied in kind, hugging the couple and then kneeling to do the same to their kid. You helped rip into the wrappings and forced yourself to focus on what was going on around you.

As the day went on, you never found the note, but you were still absolutely certain that Nicomund had been the one to get you into bed. You might have been exhausted, but you would have remembered it if you’d gotten up to go to bed on your own. Disappointment shot through you at the realization that you wouldn’t get the chance to see him again until the next year. If at all.

Later that same day, you had dinner with your family, which served to take your mind off things for several hours. It wasn’t until later that night and once you’d returned to your place well after midnight and gotten ready for bed, that you sighed dejectedly again. In your pajamas and leaning against the counter of the open kitchen that looked into the living room, you slowly sipped water from a glass when your fireplace made a sputtering noise. Frowning, you put the glass down behind you and walked into the living room, only to yelp in surprise when golden sparks appeared and formed into the shape of a man a few feet away from you.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, eyes wide and heart racing.

Nicomund met your gaze and smirked at your gobsmacked expression.

“Merry Christmas,” he rumbled.

Your mouth moved silently as your eyes slowly took in his appearance. Gone were the red coat and hat, instead he was wearing a loose, off-white colored shirt and had his hair pulled up in a messy bun, showing off more of his handsome face. The V in the shirt’s neckline revealed the beginning of circular tattoos with what appeared to be runes. All the air rushed out of your lungs at the whole sight. He definitely wasn’t Santa right now, meaning that it really wasn’t the outfit that did it for you, since you were getting even more turned on than the previous year.

“What are you doing here?” you croaked, your mind having a hard time realizing that he was standing in your living room. “Christmas is over.”

“It is, yeah… I thought you wanted to see me.” He put his bare hands into the pockets of his red pants and tilted his head at you.

Your eyebrows lifted at that. “Why didn’t you wake me up then?” you muttered, pursing your lips slightly.

“Not enough time,” he answered easily, eyeing you slowly.

“For what?” you breathed, swallowing at the way he was staring at you. The way he'd said it hinted at more than just him running behind schedule.

“I got your note,” he said instead, and pulled the neatly folded paper out of one of his pockets, scanning it lazily after unfolding it. “You got real creative.” He lifted his gaze to yours briefly, the eye contact and implications of his words having heat rushing to your face.

Biting over your bottom lip and taking strength in the knowledge that he came to find you once he’d been done with delivering presents, you grinned at him cheekily.

“You said that I was never on your naughty list, so I figured that I could get a reward for having been such a good girl over the years.”

You took a step closer to him, seeing him watching you attentively, expression unreadable.

“And that’s what you had in mind?” His eyes went back to your note. “Dear Santa, I’ve been particularly good this year. Please let me play with your Christmas ornaments and suck on your candy cane. And while Santa Claus is coming to town, I’ll be sure to show how good I can go to town on Santa Claus. And please don’t forget to stuff my Christmas stockings with your big present. Hoe, hoe, hoe, Merry Christmas.”

Hearing him read the note out loud in that husky drawl had all the heat from your face rushing down your body. You couldn’t even feel the slightest bit of embarrassment at your silly wordplay, especially when you could see the corner of his mouth pulling up as he read, while his voice deepened by the end. His eyes lifted to yours once he was done, before he let them travel over your body. Slowly, taking all of you in, his blue eyes dark in the half light cast by the living room lamp. Your lips parted as soft pants left your mouth, your heart rate picking up at his intense perusal.

“May I have my Christmas present now?” you breathed after taking a step closer and leaving you only a few inches away from him.

He huffed out an amused laugh, but you didn’t miss the way he lightly leaned towards you, his large chest moving up and down faster.

“Show me how good you can be,” he rumbled, as he let go of the note, which fluttered to the floor.

As you reached for his face with one of your hands, you caught his surprised expression when your fingers gently ran along his bearded jaw and towards the back of his head to pull him towards your mouth. Considering the low sound he made as your lips met, he had nothing against kissing, he seemed more surprised by your gentle touch, that you wanted more than just something frenzied and fast. But you did want. Corny and over the top sexual Christmas wordplay aside, you really wanted the man. All of him.

Slipping your tongue along his while slightly pulling at his hair, Nicomund growled and pushed into you, his hands moving into action as they travelled around your waist and down to your ass. His beard tickled deliciously around your mouth as he kissed you back fiercely. The first physical proof of his arousal pressed against you, making your breath catch at the size you could feel. Taking a step back away from him, you quickly found his eyes as you sunk to your knees before him. Nicomund’s breath came in short pants as his dark eyes watched you lifting your hands to the fastenings of his red pants. You took your time pulling the golden buttons from their respective holes, while you could see his erection straining the fabric just below. After you were done, you tugged the pants and underwear down enough to reveal his length. Unable to keep your eyes away, you finally looked at his gorgeous cock, proudly standing away from his body, the head red and shiny with pre-come.

“As red as Rudolf’s nose,” you muttered lightly, almost to yourself, except that Nicomund heard every word.

“Fuck, you’re terrible. Don’t make me change my mind,” he grumbled, sounding between amused and exasperated.

Slipping out of the top half of your pajamas to reveal your breasts, you glanced up at him with a smirk.

“You really wanna stop, Daddy Christmas?” you teased, right before leaning forward to lick up a long stripe from the base to the top of his cock.

His body went rigid at the touch, while he groaned. Suddenly, one of his hands was in your hair, the fingers sliding against your scalp and moving your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. A long moan slipped free from you at the treatment, which had Nicomund grinning in satisfaction.

“You’re not really being a good girl right now, y’know. Bein’ a lil tease and all. Thought you wanted to show me how good you can be.” His voice was low and washed over you in a delicious wave, stoking your lust further.

Nodding instead of replying verbally, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue peek out in invitation. Nicomund hummed, pleased, and guided you towards his cock.

“There we go,” he rasped, as he slowly slid over your tongue, stretching your lips with his girth.

Once he was as far as you could manage without gagging, he stopped moving. His hand remained in your hair, but he neither pushed nor pulled, waiting for you to decide what to do next. You kept him like this for as long as was comfortable before you slowly drew back and gently suckled over the head, while you wrapped your fingers around him. Nicomund groaned as you angled his cock up for you to tongue and suck under the head, teasing the sensitive nerves. You took your time sucking all over him, savoring the sounds you could get out of him, your body heating whenever he cursed under his breath when you did something he particularly enjoyed.

Listening to his breaths picking up speed and feeling his hips jerking as he got closer to release, you were surprised when he gently removed you off him with the same hand as before. Lifting your head since you had expected – wanted – him to come in your mouth, you gazed at him in confusion. He reached for one of your arms and pulled you to your feet before he was kissing you hungrily. Which you didn’t mind in the slightest, as you folded your arms around his chest to answer in kind, your nipples hardening as they rubbed against the material of his shirt.

“Wanna be inside you,” he admitted roughly, talking against your mouth.

You keened in the back of your throat and nodded fervently. How could you not want that?

“Yes,” you hissed, kissing him deeply.

“Bed?” he rasped, and it took your brain a second to get your body to move.

“Yeah, okay.” You took his hand and pulled him out of the living room and towards your bedroom.

Inside the room, Nicomund drew you back to him for a quick kiss before he bent over to pull down your pajama pants and get them off you. You clutched at his shoulders as he divested you of the clothes.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he ordered, having your move instantly.

You observed him through hooded eyes and pressed your legs together at the tingle of anticipation running through your core as you watched him undress. You would have loved to do it for him, but this gave you the opportunity to let your eyes feast on him as he revealed his tattooed body, the shirt falling to the floor. He was large and strong, but with a softness around his belly that had your fingers prickling with the desire to touch. His hair was a mess of curls, in and out of the hairband holding it back. You expected him to remove the rest of his clothes and stared into his face questioningly when he didn’t, only to realize that he was already watching you. Stepping towards you and making you spread your legs for him to stand between them, Nicomund towered over you as he gazed down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Thought you might want me to keep them on. So you don’t forget who exactly is fucking you.”

Your whole body heated with lust and embarrassment alike. You wanted to open your mouth to explain that you didn’t have a Santa kink, that you’d never thought of Santa in that way, but after the jokes you’d made, you couldn’t fault him for teasing you about it. Only, you didn’t care who he was. You’d have wanted him the same way had he been the Sandman, or just a normal man as well. And to be honest, having him almost fully clothed while you were naked was also turning you on.

“Is it time for your big present, then?” You bit over your bottom lip as you stared up at him with a hopeful expression.

Chuckling, Nicomund leaned down to your eye level.

“Not yet,” he hedged, and knelt between your legs. “First I gotta get a taste of your…” He thought for a second. “Cookie.”

Your eyes widened at the unexpected wordplay and what it meant. He didn’t give you the time to further react as he grabbed your hips to pull them halfway over the edge of the bed and sink between your legs. You barely had the time to catch yourself with your hands behind you on the bed at the first swipe of his tongue over your wet folds. Crying out at the hotness of his tongue combined with the soft scratching of his beard on your sensitive skin, you fought to keep your eyes open to watch him. Heat ran through you at the way he so clearly took pleasure in eating you out. He took his time doing it too, at first only giving you broad licks that didn’t hold that much strength and mostly served to wind you slowly up as his tongue became more precise. Your eyes fluttered, and you panted once he began using the tip of his tongue to run maddening circles around your exposed clit. As you were getting louder and louder the stronger the pressure of his tongue became, Nicomund suddenly stopped and, instead, focused his attention on your inner thighs, kissing and teasing his beard across your skin. Your legs quivered from the change of pace, and you wanted nothing more than to bring his head back to where it had been. He seemed content to keep torturing you, however, and you knew in that moment that you would be dealing with beard burn the next day.

“Nicomund… please?” you breathed on a whimper, gazing down at him and catching his eye as he looked up at you without stopping his ministrations.

Your expression seemed to trigger something in him because his mouth and tongue were back on your clit in the next second. You had to throw your head back at the explosive pleasure shooting through you as his lips surrounded that little bundle of nerves, and he sucked on it enthusiastically. You screamed in bliss and tangled your fingers in his hair, silently begging him to stay right there. From the way he growled, he had no intention of going anywhere anyway. He pressed his thumbs into your thighs, pushing your legs further open and pulling your folds apart as his mouth ripped more and more delirious sounds from you. As two of his fingers slowly sank into you and curled up to start fucking you, your whole body wrapped over his head, your orgasm hitting you with such intensity that your legs locked against Nicomund’s shoulders.

While you were slowly coming back to yourself, Nicomund kissed his way up your mound, hip and belly, his soft touches making your body shake with more than just the aftershocks, your entire body feeling sensitized. When he reached your stomach, you cupped his head with your hands and leaned down to kiss him deeply. His beard was damp, while his lips still tasted like you, having a new shiver of desire going through you. Nicomund grunted into your mouth as he knelt up, curling one arm around your waist while the other held him up behind your back. Without ever breaking the kiss, he got to his feet and leaned over you until you were almost lying on the bed. You moved up the bed with his help, just enough for him to get his knees on the mattress and pull your legs over his thighs properly. Meanwhile, your hands took their time exploring his body, running all over his back and sides, reveling in his size and comforting weight on top of you. Your fingers encountered a few scares as they went, bringing the reminder of your research back to mind. Only fights and battles could explain the size and placements of some of them. And then there were the tattoos. Santa Claus was an ancient Viking warrior. The concept was absolutely wild, but you put the wayward thought to the side in favor of focusing on the whole man on top of you.

Nicomund lifted his head a few inches and held himself over you to look into your face. He was breathing hard, sweat starting to form at his temples, his eyes traveling between your lips and eyes. You looked at him dazedly and smiled before lifting your head, keeping your eyes open, to press your mouth against his. You repeated the action a few more times, seeing his chest rise and fall faster each time.

“Are you going to make me beg again?” you whispered, your lips grazing his.

He chuckled and stroked a thick thumb over your jaw.

“Please, Santa, pour your milk all over my-”

His mouth crashed into yours, effectively shutting you up, but unable to stop you from giggling.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled, shifting on top of you.

“But cookies always need – oh fuck!”

This time, his method was more convincing, as he used your momentarily distraction while you teased him to line up with your entrance and push inside you in one long and powerful slide.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your head back as he had you crying out with each snap of his hips, his length making you feel as full as you’d wished for. Nicomund mouthed around your jawline, grunting into your skin as he thrust into you repeatedly. Leaning your head forward again, you drew his mouth in for an open-mouthed kiss, sucking and biting his bottom lip, trying to give back as much as you could in your position. It seemed to be enough for him, since he slammed into you harder, groaning as you moaned even louder while your inner walls pulsed around him.

“Feel so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and high-pitched, your legs curling over his thighs as extreme pleasure unfurled inside you again.

“Fuck,” he gritted out roughly, staring down at you with burning eyes. “You gonna come for me again?”

You nodded. “Please? Nicomund… Please!”

You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of this man on top of you, making you feel needy like never before. With his large frame, glistening with sweat and strong arms holding him up at your sides as his hips drove you higher and higher, piercing blue eyes roving over your face.

“Yeah, come on, go ahead. Been such a good girl for me. Such a good-”

His words cut off as you exploded around him at the praise, a long wail of ecstasy coming through your mouth, before you pulled his mouth back onto yours for a desperate kiss. After several more thrusts, Nicomund groaned as one of his hands shifted to your hair and formed a fist in it. He tugged at it to expose your jaw to breathe against it as he fucked in and out of you at a fast pace. Still overwhelmed by your second orgasm, you let him move you the way he needed and only linked your arms tightly around his shoulders, small, pleasured whimpers leaving you. When he came, his whole body shuddered over yours, his hips jerking repeatedly as he emptied himself inside you with a long groan.

Neither of you moved as you simply rested for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow while you gently combed your fingers through his hair.

“Mmh… this was definitely worth waiting a whole year for,” you mumbled sleepily, the long day catching up to you at last.

Nicomund chuckled warmly and raised his head from where it had been resting against your shoulder. You grinned up at him and stroked your fingers along his beard before letting them trail down his shoulders, your eyes following their path, as he moved further up.

“Nicomund the Red,” you muttered quietly, swirling an index over a circular tattoo on his chest. They were all gorgeous and reached down to both of his arms.

You felt him go still under your hands and met his stunned gaze. You smiled softly, keeping up your exploration.

“I like research,” you explained with a small shrug. “Didn’t find much, really, but I couldn’t…” You looked away from his face.

“Couldn’t what?” he asked in a quiet rumble.

“You read the note, Nicomund… I didn’t start thinking about writing it only yesterday,” you hedged.

This was as much as you wanted to reveal about how often you’d thought about him this past year. Sure, you’d been attracted to him from the get go and had fun with all the wordplay, but you’d also been genuinely intrigued by him.

Nicomund didn’t say anything for a beat, but then shifted your bodies until he was slipping out of you and rolling you to your side to face him.

He cleared his throat. “Well… I was kinda wondering if you’d be at your friends’ again.”

You uttered a small, happy laugh at his admittance and closed your eyes. The feeling only lasted a moment as you realized that he wouldn’t be staying, however. Nicomund was still Santa Claus, for crying out loud. Your smile turned sad as you fully realized that this couldn’t go anywhere. Opening your eyes and staring at his chest, you kept tracing the tattoos quietly, thinking.

“Will you come back next year?” you finally brought yourself to ask, your eyes still downcast.

A warm palm stroked over your jaw and tilted your head up to meet warm blue eyes.

“Only if you stay off the naughty list,” he said, going for humor to lift the suddenly heavier mood, but his smile was slightly off.

You couldn’t help but snort anyway and gave him a small smile, the implications of his comment clear. You’d always been on the nice list, so surely…

“No promises,” you whispered, having him huffing out a small laugh this time, while his fingers ran along the back of your neck in a wonderfully soothing way.

Your eyes slowly fell close, your fingers stopping their path on his skin as his touch lulled you to sleep. You were completely unable to fight it and soon, the last thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead.

With no surprise, you were alone the next morning.

One week later.

Two hours past the new year, after your friends had left, and you’d put the night’s dinner leftovers in the fridge, you sank onto the couch with a glass of eggnog. You stared at the liquid with bleary eyes, smiling to yourself as you thought of Nicomund. It was a bittersweet thought, but you tried to keep any sadness away whenever you thought of him. Still slightly tipsy, you berated yourself for missing the opportunity to make a bad joke with eggnog. Maybe you should write it in next Christmas’ note. You could already see him rolling his eyes at you and grinned.

Taking a sip and leaning your head back over the couch, you let your mind drift to the moment when you’d been lying face to face, his hands in your hair.

A whoosh of air suddenly went through the living room, having you gasp and sit upright again. Your mouth fell open at the now familiar golden sparks coming through the fireplace. A few seconds later, you were looking into Nicomund’s face.

“Happy new year?” he rumbled tentatively.

Standing and looking at your glass, you put it down on the coffee table and tilted your head at him.

“I should really, really leave off the eggnog,” you said as you approached him. “I’m starting to see Santa at New Year.”

“Maybe you’ll see me at Easter too,” he smirked, leaning towards you as you cupped his face to kiss him.

#Nicomund x reader #violent night #santa x reader #reader insert #violent night fanfiction #david harbour #christmas smut #yes I'm aware it's August 🤣

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bachissidehoe · 8 months

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"Adopting" Catboys Kuroo & Kenma

w.c. 1.3k

The last thing y/n expected to happen when she decided to take two stray cats in was perhaps exactly what happened- she woke up one morning to two human boys on either side of her, cuddling up against her chilly body. After the initial panic, and all three of them working through the confusion and explanations, y/n was eventually able to take a breath. These two boys, were in fact, the two cats she brought home. Her energetic black cat turned into a tall, gorgeous man with raven colored hair, his black cat ears dusted with specs of white on the inside, his tail sleek and smooth. Her calm, shy calico became a sweet, quiet man with beautiful golden eyes and black and yellow ears, matching perfectly with his two-tone shoulder length hair. Perhaps one of the most difficult things to accept about the two cat boys she got mixed up with- was that they’re so damn pretty. Both of them. And they had a way of making her feel special, fighting over cuddles when they were in cat form, playing with her hair in human form- she couldn't get enough of their attention. She’d been calling them some random pet names she picked out- but when they revealed their human forms, they reintroduced themselves as Kuroo Tetsuro and Kozume Kenma.

It didn't take long for the lines of the originally established owner-pet relationship to become blurred, or at least, the nature of this relationship to take on a slightly different meaning.

Kuroo

He fights for her attention and isn’t subtle about it. He tells her out loud, drawing any amount of attention he can away from his calm friend. “Stop petting Kenma, I was the one who helped you with the dishes earlier” He rolls his eyes, his fluffy black ears pinned backward

He steals kisses whenever he can get them, a light kiss on the cheek, a lick to the neck, a brush of her lips. Anything to put his hands or his mouth on her

He likes to maintain his cat form when she first arrives home, snaking his furry body between her legs to make sure he’s the first to welcome her with his scent. He proudly reaches his head upward to meet her greeting, loving the feeling of her fingers gliding through his soft fur

When he fucks her, he loves to rail into her from behind, gripping her hair in one hand and digging his claws into her ass with the other. He loves watching her tight pussy take him in, creating a creamy ring around the base of his thick cock. “That’s a good girl, who’s the pet now?” He gasps, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he fills her with his sticky load

He’s so vocal with her, constantly praising her, telling her she’s beautiful, moaning into her mouth, her pussy, around her tits- he just loves being loud for her. Maybe some part of that is because he wants Kenma to hear, since there’s nothing better than a jealous Kenma for him to deal with later

Kenma

It’s easy to tell when Kenma is touch starved, he wanders around the house, moping, letting out little sighs and whines. He acts so unbothered, but he wants to be pet and cuddled just as much as Kuroo. “Kuro, move over, you’re kicking me off the bed” He whines

When he's in cat form, he's watching whatever's on the TV, y/n's laptop, or even her phone, with his golden eyes glued to the screen, his fluffy multi-colored tail swinging happily behind him. When he's in human form, he's the one playing the games and scrolling through social media. And he loves when y/n watches him, he'll take quick glances toward her when he wins a match or makes a good play, eager for her praise

He's always curled up on y/n's bed, taking up the warmest spot where her body once was, rolling around in the scent she left behind. She always finds him there when she gets home, looking beautifully soft, taking a short little cat nap before spending the rest of the night subtly begging for her attention

He loves when y/n bounces on his cock, taking his entire length inside her soaked pussy before using her burning thighs to lift herself back up, resting only his tip inside before repeating the cycle. He can't get enough of being edged by her, ridden until her gorgeous thighs physically can't anymore, which is when he'll thrust upward into her tired pussy, watching her tits bounce in front of him until he finally fills her to the brim

Perhaps his favorite thing in the world is when he gets to taste her sweet pussy, lapping at her hole over and over, refusing to stop even when she begs him to. He loves when her fluids drip down his chin, when her fingers grip his calico ears as she cums once again, having lost count of the exact number of times

Both of them

Taking the boys out always becomes an event, forcing them to wear beanies that cover their ears, making them tuck their tails into their pants, they always put up a fuss about it. But they have to get outside sometime, so y/n takes them to the park and lets them hit a volleyball around, buys them some treats, steers them away from any dogs that want to play. Kenma can never seem to keep his beanie on, it always slips down over his eyes, leading to a slightly panicked y/n bobby pinning it back in place before anyone sees

Sometimes they like to come shopping with her, picking out groceries and Kuroo excitedly jumping around when he sees a cat toy he wants. Kenma prefers to stand behind the cart, rolling his eyes at Kuroo's obnoxious displays. And in public of all places...

There are times when one of the boys will get extra jealous during their "special" time with y/n. Kenma will paw and scratch at the door, having just woken up from his nap and realizing Kuroo has once again beat him out for y/n's attention. Kuroo, however, will just barge in, jumping up on the bed and making sure Kenma knows he can't have y/n all to himself

The constant interruptions usually lead to the one left out joining them anyway. Kenma will stroll in while Kuroo fucks y/n from behind, his eyes pleading and cock strained against his sweatpants as Kuroo smirks, thrusting just a bit harder to rub it in. "Kenma, c'mere, I can h-fuck- help you too~" Y/n says, pulling his sweatpants down and taking his bulging length in her mouth. Kuroo's thrusts are all she needs to create a rhythm against Kenma's shaft, and it isn't long before he's spilling his load down her throat. "Already done, Kenma? Better get it back up, I could keep going for hours" Kuroo snickers, the sound of his thighs slapping against her ass echoing beautifully off the walls of the bedroom

When Kuroo's the one left out, he'll waste no time inserting himself into the situation. "Without me? You two..." Kuroo growls, watching y/n bounce on Kenma as his lips remain parted, his face flushed and eyes snapped shut. Kuroo smothers his needy cock in plenty of lube before bending y/n forward, slowly forcing his dick into her ass. "You don't mind, right? Can't just make me sit and watch" He breathes, taking one of y/n's tits in her hand as she whines. Soon, both boys are thrusting into her, filling her up at the same time

They always end peacefully, with y/n asleep in Kenma's arms while Kuroo plays with her hair and cleans her up. She takes care of them all the time- feeding them, giving them a home, cleaning up after them- it's the least they can do to hold her used body and cradle her to sleep.

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garfunklefield · 3 months

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He’s into it!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Fem!reader/Ryomen Sukuna Warnings: established relationship, furry!reader, reader is a furry, reader is into super pink frilly Sanrio stuff, Sukuna is a whipped simp, Sukuna and Yuji are brothers mentioned, fluff, mainly fluff with a treat at the end, grinding, dry humping, pet names (pup & puppy), aftercare Word count: 1644 DESC: Ryomen Sukuna hater of mullets lover of furries

This was originally a Drabble but I got carried away! I kinda wanna make this a series, should I?

Link to my Ko-fi if you want to support me!

Requests and ASKS are open!!!

Ryomen Sukuna would never admit it to you, but he likes it when you wear those ears and paws. It was a shameless hobby you had, dressing up like that for your Instagram. It was innocent but perfect. He loved how the paws were lightly colored and oversized, making you seem smaller. Then how the ears were the same.

You looked perfect. It was perfect! But… while it was all innocent and cute he couldn’t help but feel a deep and brooding feeling reside in his chest. God, it turned him on. The way you pranced around with your phone in public, taking photos with strangers if they asked. How your eyes lit up at conventions you dragged him to, forcing him to look at all the different paws and suits. Ryomen would of course pretend it was the worst thing on her, gaffing and rolling his eyes.

And then when you weren’t looking, he’d palm the fur of a pair of ears in his hand just because he loved the fluff. He had a habit of staring at cute things. Maybe that’s why he liked you. Even though he was the total opposite, with his big black tattoos and semi-shaved haircut. You two looked -acted- completely different. Yet he liked that. You could rant to him about some drama in your community and he’d just listen. Sure he didn’t understand all of it but he just wanted to keep you happy. Not to mention he just loved looking at you like that. Pouting pink lips and fluffy pink ears. Especially the clipped ones with bows and bells.

There was a point where it was becoming too much for him. He was seated on your light-colored bed, hugging a pillow to his chest as you hummed. You were changing into something he was told he wasn’t allowed to look at until you were done. Of course, he grumbled a curse and gave you a pointed look before doing exactly as you said. He caught small glimpses, something pink and frilly of course. God, he just wanted to rip it off of your curved body and fuck you senseless.

Ryomen had a habit of staring at cute things, yes, but he had a worse habit of staring at plump skin. So when he saw you, chubby and completely adorned in the cutest clothing he’d ever seen, he needed you. It was a weird thing, so weird his younger brother liked to tease him over.

“The girl's 5’4 and she’s got you completely whipped, Ryo!” Yuji would chortle, throwing his head back before receiving a coke can to the gut.

“Shut up, brat,” Ryomen retorted, rolling his eyes as always. He didn’t admit the hold you had on him to anyone else but you if you asked him. He’d just shrug and say something like “I please my woman” which was Ryomen Sukuna for “Please marry me I’m in love with you if you leave me I’ll kill myself”.

“Ryomen,” you murmured, turning on your white socks to show your outfit. My god. He was completely done for. There was no way he was going to recover from seeing you in that! Hell, it wasn’t even revealing but it was cute. It was fucking cute. And that’s what got him!

It was a ruffled pink dress, with a ribbon cinching it just below your breasts, letting the rest of the dress flow out. It came down quite low, about your knees. Then some white stockings to cover the rest. By itself it was fine. But you paired it with your favorite ears, paws, and now a fucking tail. Ryomen swallowed and blinked a few times. He had to keep the dress intact, he had to keep the dress in TACT.

Your face fell after a moment of no answer from your boyfriend. A pout formed over your bottom lip, shining in the glowing light with a hint of sparkle. New lipgloss. He looked down at his pants, groaning at the sight of his bulge. Of course, he was solid just from a look.

“Is it really that bad?” You frowned, crossing your arms. Oh don’t do that, he thought as his eyes glanced to your slightly exposed cleavage. You were torturing him in a way you never had before, and you were completely oblivious!

Ryomen muttered your name and hissed, rolling on his side and huffing to sit on the edge of the bed. He motioned his big arm in your direction, beckoning you to come over to him. You nodded and slowly crept towards your boyfriend. At that point, you had to have seen his boner, right?

“You look nice,” he whispered, wrapping one of his big hands around your waist. His other tapped your leg, signaling he wanted you on him. Even if this turned into nothing more than a wholesome interaction, he wanted you to touch him in some way, shape, or form.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you sighed and sat down. Your eyes widened when his tent pressed against the front of your crotch, “Oh.”

“I like it,” he grumbled, “I think I like it a hell of a lot more than I should. Is that weird?” He looked at your face, which was flushed a deep pink. A small frown pulled at his bottom lip and he used his free hand to poke at the apple of your cheek, “Don’t just stare at me, woman.”

You gave him a small warning look and he quickly corrected himself, “Don’t just stare at me … princess.”

“Everyone has their fetishes. I didn’t know you liked the furry thing like that,” you spoke delicately, with a tiny smile. Clearly, you weren’t weirded out by his admission of guilt. Ryomen nodded and leaned forward, resting his head against your collarbone.

“Don’t think about teasing me in front of the brat,” he mumbled against your skin, wrapping two meaty arms around your back.

You giggled and let one hand trail up his own back to his pink hair, “I won’t. It’s kind of hot that you like it anyway…” He knew the exact expression you were making even if he didn’t see you. It was the far-away look, with an almost innocent stare. It wasn’t really innocent though. That’s why it drove him mad. You could see the sexuality burning behind your eyes as you bit down on your lip. It made him insane with lust.

“Hot huh?” He sat up, looking up at you with narrowed eyes, “I didn’t bring any condoms.” Ryomen didn’t want to admit it but he had an idea that would keep your perfect outfit on without getting ruined, not get you pregnant, and get him off. One of his hands slid down your side and up your skirt to touch along your thigh, “Grind your pussy on my bulge, puppy.”

You nodded and bit down on your swollen lip again, putting both hands on your back to remove your dress. His other hand instinctively grabbed yours and stopped you, “No. Keep it on.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh… okay.”

The two of you found yourselves back against the bed. Ryomen laid on his back as you ground your soaked clothed cunt against his precum-stained shorts. His hands were planted on your hips, rocking them back and forth to get the job done. He leaned his head back against one of your sanity pillows, hoping he wouldn’t cum yet. You felt so good he just needed this to last a few seconds longer. Even though he couldn’t be inside you, he didn’t need to be. Just seeing your face and how it contorted in pleasure was enough for him. You moaned like a goddess, thrusting into him for your pleasure.

“F..fuck pup. You’re driving me mad with- with that damn... mmm those ears.. f-f..uck,” he had never been so foggy.

It had to have been the outfit. Your naked body was beautiful but that’s all he’d ever fucked. He’d never fucked you decorated in all this cute stuff. God, it got him so close. He was just throbbing from the impending euphoria. Then he heard you whimper and it was all over. Your sounds got louder and louder, filling his ears with your pleasure. You placed both hands against his own, pressing your wetness further against his cock. It drove him over the edge and he gasped as a load shot out of his swollen tip. Ryomen had never cum that way, continuing to rub your cunt against him to elongate his high.

You bit your lip at the sensation, cumming a few moments later from seeing your boyfriend lose control. Even though, as he came down from his high, he felt sticky and gross, Ryomen wouldn’t have changed a thing. Seeing you in that pretty outfit grind against him made him so hot and bothered beyond belief. It was better than any penetration he could’ve asked for.

“I love you,” he whispered, pushing you down beside him. You nodded and fell forward against the bed, mumbling your own I love you as well. Ryomen Sukuna kicked off his now very soggy shorts and underwear, opting for a commando-style dress, taking off his shirt as well. You glanced at him and yawned as he sat down next to you, beginning to undo your outfit. “Ryomen…?” You mumbled in a bit of confusion.

“Let me do this, brat- er… my love,” he wasn’t very good at these sorts of pet names unless he was about to cum, it was clear. You were undressed in a few moments and pressed against your boyfriend's chest. He knew you liked this sort of thing. Aftercare? Ryomen wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but he knew it was important.

Making you happy was the most important thing in the world to him.

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emelinstriker · 6 months

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{Eternal Servants AU} Azure ♡ Allegiance

Art drawn by me + the AU itself is mine.

Much like the MK one-shot, this doodle isn't referencing anything from this one-shot.

CW: Descriptions of dismemberment and somewhat gore in the first half I guess-

[TL;DR] Azure worries about Wukong, and the Celestial Hunters are a nuisance.

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

Growls could be heard echoing throughout the activity wing of the palace, followed by the painful roars of a beast.

Azure had just slashed at another Celestial Hunter, leaving it with a wide open gash on its side. The veiny red lines inside its body glowed as the beast tried to fight back. Another Hunter was about to attack him from behind, but was swiftly slammed into a wall so hard it created a hole. Wukong just saved his sworn brother from getting bit.

The white champion huffed as he slashed through one of the other beast's legs. He then quickly turned around as he heard another growl and slashed at another hunter. "Where are they coming from?!" He exclaimed as he punched a beast that was about to bite him, panting from how many him and Wukong had already taken down.

The simian only grunted in response as he ripped a leg off another beast before throwing its furry body across the hall. It wasn't like these beasts were a struggle to fight and get rid of for them, but it was like they kept on coming and coming. As if they were regenerating somewhere else despite their bodies turning to goop.

After not having paid enough attention, Wukong let out a growling noise of his own as he got bit by one of the Celestial Hunters in the arm. He swiftly slammed it into the ground, forcing it to let go before he punched into its neck, making it screech.

His sworn brother scoffed as he noticed the bite wound on Wukong. "Are you okay, brother?!" He asked as he slashed into another Hunter. The monkey in blue nodded in a bit of pain as he held his arm. It was quite a big bite wound due to the size of the beast.

Suddenly, a Celestial Hunter that was running down the hall towards them was hit by a fire ball from behind, making it fall to the ground as it yelped in pain. Wukong and Azure looked behind the beast and saw Red Son and MK walking towards their location. Red Son held more fire in his hands while MK summoned his staff to his side.

"Took you long enough to give us some backup!" Azure said a bit annoyed at the younger champions' tardiness.

The bull demon shrugged in response, "Sorry. Macaque just started arguing about why he should stay with Master, and why he should protect them instead of MK." He then chucked another fireball at a different beast, making it fall to the ground.

Despite the ginger-furred champion's calm stature, Azure could tell he was starting to be more in pain as he noticed Wukong's hits getting more sloppy than calculated. And it worried him. The white champion relaxed a bit as he saw MK bash some Celestial Hunters' bodies in with his staff, followed up by Red Son lighting them on fire. This finally turned the black goop on the ground into black dust.

"Red Son, can you and MK take over? Wukong requires medical attention", the blue lion asked as glanced at his brother.

The bull demon nodded, "We can take it from here. MK still has some rage to get rid of after Macaque took his spot next to Master." He then gestured towards the young monkey, who was in the middle of ripping apart Celestial Hunters one-by-one, limb-by-limb, with his staff and bare hands. He only got here maybe two minutes ago and was already covered in black goop, of which some was already hardening and falling off him, turning into more dust.

With that confirmation, Azure grabbed Wukong by the healthy arm and dragged him away. While the monkey could've just stopped him, he knew Azure was just worried about him.

Upon reaching the medbay and ducking to bypass the doorframe, the white champion finally let go of the monkey and rushed to a cabinet with items to disinfect the wound with and bandage it up. As well as a little plastic zip-up bag, as per the Oracle's instructions from when Azure was first introduced to the palace. While picking the materials, Wukong slowly sat down on a nearby chair, letting out heavy, yet quiet, deep breaths as he held his wounded arm. Now, a normal wound wouldn't bother him much. However, he was bit by a Celestial Hunter. And none of the servants were able to ignore the pain of both black fluids trying to mix. The wound would need to be closed asap, and any stains the Hunter left behind would need to be removed. Unlike Nezha's encounter with one of the first Hunters that broke through and cut him, the one that attacked Wukong actually bit deep enough that it made Azure concerned.

The lion positioned himself in front of the monkey and carefully started cleaning the wound. Wukong was definitely in pain, but he was also trying to stay still as best as he could so Azure could help him better. Once most of the fluid was collected and placed in a bag, he sighed in relief, already noticing how his brother was less in pain. He then bandaged up his arm, covering the bitten area.

"Better now?" He asked the blue champion, who nodded in response.

After a moment of silence, Wukong tried to stand up. "We need to go back." However, the lion quickly placed him back in his seat, confusing the monkey.

"You're still in pain, brother. It'd be wise of you to rest and recover for a while first", Azure pointed out. But Wukong didn't like that idea. How was he supposed to rest, knowing of the current dangers within the palace and how his Master's safety was at risk?

"...Not yet. Master needs me. The others need me. This palace needs me. Besides, it's not enough pain to stop me. I'm not going to sit this one out just because I've been bit." The monkey in blue spoke with such calm determination, Azure could've sworn it felt reminiscent of a time he no longer remembered.

The white champion couldn't help but smile a bit. "I guess we both can't just leave our comrades to fight alone, hm?" Knowing he wouldn't be able to convince Wukong to fully heal first, he let go of the monkey with a sigh. "Especially not when we are united as one to keep our beloved Master safe. Nothing can stop us."

Wukong nodded as he proceeded to stand up once more, this time without his brother stopping him. "Then let's not waste any time. We still need to figure out where exactly they're coming from", he said. Azure was aware of how much protecting the palace meant to Wukong. It was, again, something that reminded him of a bygone memory. And he couldn't deny that the lion himself felt proud about all they've vowed to fight and live for. Without this, none of them felt like they had anything else that actually mattered to them.

However, before both of them could move further towards the door, a shadow portal opened up against a wall, revealing you and two other champions. Macaque seemed to be in a panic as he rushed towards Wukong, practically throwing himself at his brother in a hug, frantically checking him for any more wounds. "Wukong! I heard you got bit! Are you in pain?! Are you okay?! Can you talk?! Do you still have your vision?! How many fingers am I holding up?!" The champion in purple then held up two of his fingers in his brother's face, who grumbled out a slightly annoyed "Two" in response.

You also gave him a worried look as you noticed his bandaged arm. "Oh, Wu-Wu...", you mumbled. Nezha also looked at the simian's bandaged arm, but he seemed to be rather intrigued than worried. Probably knowing about how the wound already got cleaned and the celestial himself had been hit before, knowing about the aftermath's pain. The pink champion knew Wukong could merely wait for the pain to go away.

The monkey in blue looked away from you, a bit ashamed of himself for having been weakened by seemingly a single bite. "I'm sorry, Master."

You placed your hand on his head and gently pet him with a little smile. "It's okay, Wu-Wu... I'm more worried about your wound." The simian let out a quiet purr contently as you pet him. His expression may have been rather blank, but his tail was giving away his silent happiness.

Then, as if to comfort you, Azure gently pulled you against his much taller body. "Don't worry, Master. He can handle the bit of leftover pain. He wouldn't be one of us if he couldn't", the lion spoke up for his brother. You let out some small noises of doubt as you turned back towards him, nuzzling into the white champion's chest. At least he was able to make you feel a little more at ease despite your worry.

"How many more of those things are there? I heard a bunch of them take hits earlier, but even now I can still hear them!" Macaque exclaimed. He was clinging onto his brother, ears twitching from all the sounds he was hearing past the walls. It almost looked like he was trying to focus on keeping his six ears hidden as well.

"That means MK and Red Son are still fighting them off... C'mon!" You urged before you turned towards your purple champion. "Mac-Mac, I need you to open a portal to where the other two are. Everyone else, get ready!"

The dark-furred simian chuckled as he finally let go of his brother. As if a switch had been turned inside him, his expression suddenly held a bit of a maniac grin as he opened a shadow portal beneath everyone. And just to make sure you didn't trip, Azure quickly picked you up, keeping you safe in his strong arms before before being consumed by the portal. His grip on you was tight yet comforting, making you feel a lot more safe about the idea of being near those Celestial Hunters.

Once you and your champions arrived at the scene, something you noticed right away was how the entire floor was covered in either black dust or goop. Meanwhile, something the boys noticed was that there weren't as many Celestial Hunters battling the two younger champions as before. Red Son looked a little tired however from using so much magical energy at once. MK on the other hand didn't seem tired at all, but he did seem a little confused. His memory loss probably kicked in, making him question why he was fighting these creatures. But he knew he had to fight them, so he didn't stop.

Wukong quickly joined back in the battle, followed up by Macaque and Nezha, who also seemed all to eager to finally be able to brutally murder something again.

"Azure, help me find the source of these things. The others can hold them back while we check the library", you said before adding, "...At least that's where I saw the first Hunter come from. We can use Macaque's hearing if we need back-up." You saw Macaque give you an innocent little smile in response before he slammed his shadow staff's thorny end into a Hunter, making it cry out in pain. And just so you wouldn't have to see these creatures suffer more by the hands of your loyal champions, Azure quickly moved into the library's open doors, not letting you leave his arms as he still held protectively onto you.

Upon entering the library, things seemed a lot more quiet, but also more ominous than the actual battle taking place. Azure finally put you down so you could freely move around again. However, he still stayed very close to you, just in case he needed to scoop you back into his arms and flee. His sword was by his side, ready for bloodshed if need be. You cautiously navigated from bookshelf to bookshelf, when you suddenly heard a rather deep sound. Turning your head around the corner, you spotted a book on the ground surrounded by black goop. The pages that were open were familiar to you as you noticed one image in particular- That was the same book you once read about Celestial Hunters!

But before you could even register what was happening, the puddle of goop around the book began to move. It began to form a familiar six-legged beast with four, red eyes... Another Hunter. And as if it could feel your presence nearby, it turned towards you and your white champion. It let out a screeching roar before it began running at you, leaving a trail of goop behind it that was unable to turn into fur in time. You gasped, stumbling back into your champion's chest in surprise. A low growl emitted from Azure as one of his arms wrapped around you while the other raised his sword. He swung it so swiftly you barely noticed his slash-attacks heading towards the beast, slicing it apart as it screeched, making it turn back into a puddle on the floor.

Azure pulled you a little closer to him. "Mink. Do you think we can seal that book?" He asked as he stared cautiously at the book on the ground. The Scroll of Memory you've been carrying around on the side of your hip began to move a bit. A somewhat big drop of ink began to make its way up your body and onto your shoulder, forming a tiny version of MK's ink copy.

Mink gave the book on the ground a solid five seconds of his attention before he shrugged, turning around to face the much taller champion. "Doubt it. Not with your type of seal, anyway. I'd say just go ahead and burn it."

The white champion raised an eyebrow at the black champion's suggestion. "Wait... Burn it? But would that really stop those creatures from coming back?"

"Trust the curse that's seen far worse shit than this, big guy. That book's better off burned to ashes than have it be sealed", Mink said rather casually as he plopped down on your shoulder, simply sitting there. Of course, he could help out with all the intel he had on this situation, but where would be the fun in that? It was so much more entertaining watching the others struggle in their plans. And it wasn't like he was lying about burning the book.

"Does it have to be a specific type of fire?" You asked as you slightly turned towards the ink curse on your shoulder.

Mink gave you a rather unamused expression. "If I had meant a specific type of fire, I would've said so. Think, idiot."

"Ah- Right-", you responded awkwardly. While Mink was probably the only champion you were able to talk normally to without being held at such high regard, that also meant his blunt and direct words hit a lot harder, and sometimes even caught you off-guard. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing when you needed someone to talk about facts rather than biases. But he was still an asshole about it.

Azure huffed as he glared at the blob of ink on your shoulder. "You could show a little bit more respect towards our Master, Mink."

Mink turned his head a little, giving Azure a smug, shit-eating grin. "What'cha gonna do if I don't, big guy? Master still needs me." Every servant in the palace knew it was true. And he was aware of Mink's specific wording, as well as how the curse usually used this line on the other champions as manipulation tactic. Azure hated him for that.

You rolled your eyes before calling out to Macaque by talking to the air. "Mac-Mac, we need either Red Son or Nezha here." A few moments later, a shadow portal opened up behind you and Azure, revealing your pink champion. Explaining your order to him, he bowed his head a little before swiftly zooming over to the book on his flaming wheels. His spear's tip ignited before he slammed it down onto the book, stabbing through its pages and even hitting some of the goop lying on the ground beneath it. Something akin to a painful roar could be heard coming from the book before it fully caught on fire. The celestial let out a grunt as he slammed one of his flaming wheels down onto the open page, spreading the flames further.

Shortly after, the book had turned to ashes, and the goop around it turned to dust. There also were no longer any audible beastly sounds outside the library. The remaining Celestial Hunters must've already been killed off by the others.

Azure sighed in relief as he realized that the danger had finally passed. He smiled as he looked down at you, seeing you talk to Mink and Nezha about what to do next. You praised your pink champion for his work before turning towards your white champion, petting his fluffy mane.

No matter what the next plan would be, his Master was safe and sound, petting his mane in delight as a reward. And that was all that mattered to him.

But no one seemed to have noticed the man in green roaming around the back of the library.

No one, except for Mink.

[ Masterlist ]

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justagirlwholikesadam · 5 months

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Farmer! Sandor Clegane Headcanon

don't own these pics

Summary: Just a few headcanon of Sandor Clegane as a farmer.

A/N: Thinking about this man as a farmer has me down on my knees. Comment and like below, maybe I can do next farmer Sandor meeting reader. Enjoy-L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Warning: SFW, sad childhood, Sandor being himself, dog dad,

Farmer!Sandor always knew he wanted to be a farmer from a young age. He liked working with his hands and moving around. He never wanted a desk job, he couldn't imagine his 6 '6 self sitting on a small computer chair for nine hours a day, five days a week. He had low patience dealing with idiot people, so retail was out of the question, any job that required dealing with people was a no. So far the only thing talking back to him were the animals on the farm and he was content with that.

Farmer!Sandor isn't much of a people person but he will sometimes invite Tormund, a worker from the market he goes to for groceries once in a while over to watch the game or just for a beer. Sandor only does it because Tormund doesn't shut up about coming over. After two six-packs, Tormund isn't so bad to be around and he doesn’t ask him about his scars.

Farmer!Sandor gets up right before the rooster crow at dawn. He likes to watch the sunrise while drinking black coffee. He nibbles on some toast or some corn muffins. On Sunday, he makes a big breakfast meal since it's the only day he rest. Eggs, bacon sometimes with ham and grits.

Farmer!Sandor wears a white beater shirt and his dark coarse chest hair peeks out. It shows off his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, it was all thanks to the hard manual labor he does. He ties his long hair with a black hair band, he keeps a spare around his wrist. He wears old blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Sometimes he wears a flannel shirt, when it gets too hot, he takes it off and wraps it around his hips. He wears these heavy size 12 boots with rubber outsoles on them.

Farmer!Sandor sweats alot after a long day of work. He uses the flannel to wipe the sweat off his forehead, neck and tone arms. He showers immediately after walking into the house. He leaves the boots outside and goes into the shower to clean the dirt and sweat off of his body. He makes sure he cleans himself, rubbing the body wash thoroughly through his chest hair and his long hair.

Farmer!Sandor walks out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. His burn scars are a bit red from being out in the sun all day. He reminds himself for tomorrow to wear his hat. He grabs face cream from the medicine cabinet to help with the redness. Some days Sandor can't stand the sight of him, that's why he liked being alone in his farmhouse. He dislikes the stares and pointing he got when going into town.

Farmer!Sandor still has issues about his face, it has gotten much better after going to the doctors. He has even done surgery for his hair to grow a bit, he usually combs his hair over to cover the slightly bald spot. He applies oils on his beard regularly and it helped his beard grow a bit back. His right brow has grown a bit as well, but the burn scars on his cheek and ear are still very visible.

Farmer!Sandor dresses comfy to get started on dinner. He walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio or sometimes the tv. He's listening to the news while cutting some veggies he has grown from his garden in the backyard. He usually grills his steak in the backyard when he's not tired. Opening a beer, he sits down and eats in silence. Sometimes he eats in front of the tv and watches whatever is playing. He's not picky on what to watch on tv.

Farmer!Sandor was on the field the next day on the tractor when he heard barking. He turns it off and looks over his shoulders to see it was a dog a few feet away from him. There isn't usually strays around, he makes sure of it since he has some chickens and pigs. He walks towards the dog, its shaggy fur is white and gray. Its ears are floppy and its tongue is hanging out as it pants.

“You alright, pup?” He asked, not really expecting it to answer but to his surprise. It barks at him, making him smile.

He carefully stretches his hand out when he notices it wasn't going to bite. He pats its head and even scratches behind its ears. Asking if it wants to eat, the dog’s tail starts wagging like crazy. Sandor decides he’ll have lunch early that day. He smiles once more when he notices it’s following him all the way to the house. He sits outside on the porch swing as he eats his sandwich and drinks a cold glass of ice tea. He watches the dog eat the leftover steak from dinner last night.

Farmer!Sandor decides to keep the dog after it kept following him everywhere for the past week. When he finds out it’s a girl, he decides to name it after his little sister, Ellie. The dog didn’t seem to mind, it followed him whenever he said it. He liked having company, it was less lonely when he wasn’t working. He lets Ellie sleep on the foot of his bed.

Farmer!Sandor doesn't smoke that much, he really only does it when he has a rough day. He’s sitting on the porch swing with a beer in one hand and the cigarette in the other. Since he’s alone, he does alot of thinking as he watches the sunset. He thinks about his life before he started to farm. He has been thinking about his little sister lately since the dog came around. His little sister was his best friend when he was younger. He had told her about his dream of having a farm. He smiles to himself as he remembers her telling him that he had to have horses for her to ride. He promised her that he would when he was a kid he had even promised her that he would have two horses so they could ride together.

Farmer!Sandor didn't have a good childhood, his parents were never around and his older brother was a bully. His older brother was the one to burn him when he was a kid. While holding his face on the hot coals, his little sister tried to help him. She hit the older brother on the back with her tiny fist. Furious that she was hitting him, he had smacked her. He hit her so hard that she fell back and slammed her head on the coffee table. Ellie lost a lot of blood on the way to the hospital and did not survive. His older brother was 18 at the time and was sentenced to prison. Parents couldn't handle it and left Sandor, who was placed in foster care.

Farmer!Sandor gets brought back to reality when he feels Ellie rubbing her head against his knee. He threw the cigarette out and placed the beer on the small table near him. He pats the seat next to him and makes sure that the swing doesn't move as Ellie jumps up next to him. He leans back as she rests her head on his lap. Sandor pats her head softly as he looks over across the field and stares at the half built stable he was building, he was going to get those horses and complete his promise to his sister.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #rory mccann #sandor clegane fanfic #games of thrones #sandor the hound clegane #ua sandor clegane #modern au sandor clegane #rorymccann

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kerokerokook · 9 months

Text

the rebound girl: chapter two

pairing: nerd pro-gamer jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.5k wtf

warnings for this chapter: oc just goes for it, jeongguk is hot as usual, lots of kissing, finally some smut, first time, virgin jk!, subby jk! with dom! reader at first but that changes, oral (m. receiving), oral fixation, fingering, jeongguk does the lower stomach trick from tiktok (iykyk), he's a little shit but it's okay.

other tags: lots of overthinking, oc goes back and forth a whole bunch (she's confused and hurt ok), jeongguk is a giant MF green flag (obvi), vmin and 2yeon being chaotically gay ofc, some brief physics mentioned, a bit of angst, oc has been hurt in her teen years.

a/n: sorry this took 9 million years but ya girl just got into her masters program!! hopefully, i can update this once/twice a month? maybe even more but, that's the plan!

enjoy :)

<3 mal

original post

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first day of school hit you in the face like a speeding fourteen-wheel truck.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration because you’ve known the date since the beginning of summer break but time flew by so quickly that you couldn’t believe September was starting and another school year was too.

Soon, you’ll graduate and get a job and move on from all of the shit you’ve gone through to become a whole adult. It’s terrifying yet exciting all at once.

Fortunately, you picked out your outfit last night: baggy blue jeans, a white cropped tank top and an oversized black corduroy button up shirt. It’s simple and comfy which you always prefer for school outfits. Simple gold jewelry sits on your neck and in your ears and you keep your hair back with a clear claw clip. You keep your makeup light, being that you’ll be back home in a few hours where you’ll just slip back into your pajamas and do nothing for the rest of the day.

While packing your things, you make sure to tuck Jeongguk’s t-shirt that you’ve washed and his umbrella into your backpack, then give Snowball her last few pets for the day while checking her food and water bowl.

“I’ll be back in a few hours cutie,” you coo, scratching underneath her chin. Her head tilts up, a content smile on her cute face, eyes shut while pushing into your touch.

Adopting Snowball sort of just happened. You were lonely last Winter break after a guy you met in your Economic Growth Seminar had moved on and your mom was talking about how your neighbor’s cat just had a litter of kittens. Thankfully, your landlord was okay with pets and boom, there was a little fluff ball making your day better little by little. After a long day, there was nothing you liked doing more than stroking her soft fur and listening to music or throwing a movie on while she purrs right next to you. She’s a great comfort to you and your friends love her too.

Tearfully, you rip yourself away from your little baby and step outside of your comfortable apartment. The hallway is empty at this time. Your building has mostly college students and a few bachelors and bachelorettes here and there so it’s surprising that no one else is walking out at the same time as you. But that’s fine. No polite greetings necessary. You put your headphones in, play some music and begin your trek to school.

Living one subway ride away from university is a privilege. It never takes you that long to get to class and it’s easy to get back home. It’s the best thing about living here.

Plus in the springtime, the blossoms decorate the streets with little pink petals and it’s a sight to see.

On the way down the subway steps, you check your schedule once more just to be sure of your class load today. You have a 9am lecture, then an 11:30am lecture and then a discussion at 1:45 but those only start the second week of school every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you have classes from 8am-3pm which sounds like ass now that you think about it.

Fuck, were you drunk when you selected these courses?

You shake your head. Whatever, not like there’s much you can do now, right? At least you’ll be busy so less time to mess around.

Your walk down the steps continues and you shove your phone into your jean pocket as you rush over to make the train before your first class, taking out your metro-card.

After dodging some lethargic businessmen and starstruck tourists, you manage to reach the train with a few seconds to spare. There’s a towards the back so you quickly walk over and grab the handle when there’s a vibration against your ass.

Confused, you pull your phone out. It’s probably a tiktok sent to you by Jeongyeon of a cat with a funny filter on or something but the screen shows the message icon and you use FaceID to unlock your phone to see who the sender was.

It’s a text from Jeongguk.

jeon jeongguk

hey

do you want to give me the stuff outside the engineering building?

maybe around 1?

by stuff i mean my shirt and umbrella

You smile to yourself. The fact that he felt the need to explain what he meant by stuff is unbelievably adorable to you.

sure, i’ll be there :)

You almost wonder what Jeongguk’s schedule is like but you stop yourself quickly. You tried to not to think too much about him on Sunday when you got back. It was enough that his sweet smelling shirt was on your body and you still had the lingering imprint of his hug on your skin but now that you know he goes to the same school, you’ll become more interested and you can’t. Jeongguk isn’t going to be the next boy to occupy your mind.

This year is going to be different. You won’t be the rebound girl anymore, you won’t sleep with guys from your school, and you won’t give in.

After everything that went down with Wooshik, it’s just better for you to distance yourself from this stupid label of rebound girl. It’s done nothing but hurt you and worsen your relationship with the people in your department. First year you were hanging out and eating with them and now all you have are Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Not that you don’t like them but you just hate what being the rebound girl has done to your college life.

Your mother used to say your college years are your prime years to be young and stupid and learn about life.

But college is nothing special to you. The classes are harder, people are smarter, meaner, better, and all you can do is push yourself to do the best that you can. Sometimes it’s enough, sometimes it isn’t. Your friends are great and you’ve made some good memories, but so far, college isn’t that coming-of-age life lesson that your mother always talked about.

You’re not particularly upset about it. You just wished you could do more. Live your life without eyes all over you and whispers at every mistake.

As the train lets you off at your spot, you make sure to triple check your schedule for the day so you know where you’re going after your first class.

9am is your Macroeconomics lecture in the Economics building which is fine. Your professor is nice and the class seems interesting enough that you know you’ll do well. Mostly test based which won’t be a problem because economics is your thing. You’ve been studying it diligently for three years now so you can confidently say that.

But 11:30 is your worst nightmare: physics.

This is all your fault. Nayeon told you to get all of your general education requirements out of the way quickly your first and second year so that you wouldn’t have to worry about them later but you didn’t listen.

Look, science is simply not your thing. High school courses were hell on earth thanks to your asshole of a Chemistry teacher. You managed to gaslight yourself into thinking math was easy enough as long as you studied like a mad person and got those requirements out of the way but science is hell on earth for you. Your university requires one life science and two physical sciences. Life science was an easy choice: zoology. You got to learn about cute animals and watch videos about them. First semester of your first year was easy.

Then you decided to take Geology for physical science during your second semester. It sounded easy but memorizing all of those different rock formations was starting to wear you out from the inside. Somehow you managed a B. And after that, it was either meteorology, astronomy, or some form of physics since every other course required you to be enrolled in the Physical Sciences department or have some prerequisite that you didn’t want to take. None of the options sounded appealing to you so you put it off until now. Then, when the realization hit that you had only one more year after this to make up for all of those credits, you decided astronomy might be the best choice after reading some professor reviews.

Only for you to sleep through registration and wake up in a frenzy to find the class completely full.

Yeah, you almost started crying.

So physics it was and, how wonderful, the only class available was with an unlikeable teacher that has a horrible rating. Amazing.

Panic floods your system as you walk into the large lecture hall. You aim for a seat in the middle, take out your supplies, and start diligently listening. Your professor is a stout, sad, little man who is trying to improve his professor score online so thankfully, he says he’s going to be more lenient when it comes to tests but demands that homework be turned in on time otherwise points will be deducted. Fair enough. You could do that.

But then he starts going into course material.

Energy; alright.

Motion; cool.

Thermodynamics; okay.

Optics; excuse me?

Electromagnetism; sound the alarms.

This class is going to kill you. Even if it’s Physics 1 and your class is filled with mostly underclassmen, you know you won’t grasp the concepts easily with all of your other classes weighing down on your head. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it all.

“.. previous students of mine have so graciously offered tutoring hours so if any of you are confused, I highly recommend meeting up with them and going over concepts. They have taken my tests before so they know what to expect. It is the best way to ensure you do well.”

Most of the students behind you have gone to sleep or started scrolling through their phones but you have a lightbulb moment.

Perfect, okay. All you have to do is check the list of tutors online and schedule appointments with them. Shouldn’t be that bad. Another thing to be strict about.

This is just what you wanted: a tight enough schedule to keep you too busy to think about anything else.

Once class is over, you pack all of your things and check your phone once more. Jeongguk said he’d be outside the engineering building which is close to the physical sciences building. The time reads 12:50pm so you have some time to make your way outside.

So far, the first day has ended and it’s gone pretty well. You’ll go back home, create a strict study table on your Notion, rent all of your books and then relax for the rest of the day. Then the rest of this week should be smooth sailing as you get into the groove with your new professors. Nayeon and Jeongyeon are going to meet you at your place for home-cooked dinner this Friday( a little first week back tradition) which you’re excited for. You should look up some recipes and make sure Nayeon stays out of your kitchen so she won’t blow anything up. That girl is incapable of not making a disaster in the kitchen.

You sigh through your nose, studying the sights you see on campus. Various students walking in small triplets or duos. The occasional lone wolf with headphones on to block out the world. Some clubs are putting up posters or setting up tables to grab first years as they explore campus. The path that is currently running outside the STEM buildings break off into various courtyards and cafes where students of all departments come to chill or cut through to go to their other classes.

It’s about to be a great scenic walk just until you run into Wooshik and his buddies as they’re exiting a café with drinks in their hands.

Kill me now.

You pause like a deer in headlights when you make eye contact with him, stopping midway so your lips can part as your entire body goes stuff.

Now, more than anything, you really wish you were walking with someone.

“Hey,” Wooshik forces out, crossing his arms over his chest. His polo shirt is open enough to show a random cluster of dark hickeys from the middle of his throat to the beginning of his chest. Real subtle.

Before seeing that, you were thinking about apologizing but now, not so much.

“Hi,” your tone is short. You can feel eyes dance over your body, the swell of your breasts and the sliver of skin revealed between your crop top and pants from one of his creepy pals behind him and you have half a mind to kick him in the balls.

Wooshik’s eyes bounce back and he juts his face forward like he’s waiting for you to say something to him but you keep your lips perfectly sealed. If he wants an apology, he can wait until he’s dead. His other friends exchange weird looks at the lack of conversation going on between you two, probably wondering if this standoff is going to linger forever.

It makes you wonder what Wooshik told them.

Guys love having their ego fluffed. If they get rejected by a girl, they’ll tell their best friends that she was an ugly slut or they’ll flip the story to say that they rejected her to save face. The last thing they want their friends to know is that a girl rejected them. It dims their coolness. However, you really don’t give a fuck about Wooshik looking cool in front of his boys. If anything, you revel in the cutting deflation he’ll feel when you tell them the truth.

“Did you get the wine out of your shirt?” You ask innocently. “I should’ve aimed it more towards your face and less towards your clothes.” Shrugging, a satisfied smile grows on your lips.

Wooshik’s ears turn red. “I–” he cuts eye contact as his friends snicker behind him. You watch in satisfaction as his expression changes from surprised to annoyed to angry. “You know what, fuck you. You ruined my shirt. I had to take that hot waitress back to my place instead of a hotel so I didn’t reek of wine.”

You scoff immediately. “Damn and I was trying to do her a favor. But congrats, looks like you got your tiny dick wet for two minutes.” You start to clap. One of his friends chokes back a splutter of laughter at the jab.

Wooshik wasn’t anything amazing but you sort of expected that. Most of your hookups are satisfactory. They get the job done and they give up. As stupid as it sounds, you’ve always gone above and beyond to pleasure someone. There’s something amazing about making your partner feel good but most men see sex in a selfish lens.

For most guys, sex means sticking their dick in and sloshing it around a few times until they feel good. Boom, sex over.

Now, if they want to make you feel good, it still won’t be about you. Orgasms are like points. They don’t get off on your pleasure but more on the fact that they’re so amazing at sex that you experienced pleasure. Another way to fluff their egos.

For once, you’d wish for a guy to actually care about you and your pleasure in an unselfish way, the same way you do for them.

Wooshik stumbles for a moment but he jumps back quickly to get you too. Especially with all of his boys watching.

“You didn’t seem to complain about it at first. What, changed your mind because I didn’t want you anymore?”

Oh, please. A plastic vibrator has done more for you than he ever will.

You laugh sardonically. “No, I just felt bad for you.” You say it wholeheartedly and it's the most truthful you’ve ever been with him.

His friends then burst into giggles and snickers, shoving him around when he fails to retort, left dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of you but you don’t care. You don’t get to see the look on Wooshik’s face but you don’t care. The laughter is your cue to leave him.

That chapter of your life is over now and you won’t ever have to deal with him again. The last man you’ll let trample all over you the minute you show them some sympathy.

All you can hope is that the pesky nickname that’s been poisoning you since your first year college can fade away into obscurity forever and ever.

Then, you can just be you. No label, no nickname, no reputation. Just a regular college senior.

The walk to the engineering building is lighter now. You feel like one of the falling petals gently flying through the sky from the branch down to the ground. A new journey begins and you can’t wait for it.

After another minute of walking, you reach the engineering building. Painted a soft brown with tons of posters and clubs waiting to talk to students. You dodge all of them to head inside where Jeongguk is waiting by a random classroom. You navigate through the crowd until you finally locate a mop of gorgeous dark hair and bright clear eyes.

He’s facing his phone screen, one leg crossed over the other, but you’re still mesmerized by him. Beauty is in simplicity but with a face like that, Jeongguk could wear a burlap sack and make it work. But currently, he’s dressed in baggy gray cargos and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt with some brand name logo on it. The urge to sigh like a satisfied cartoon character is intense.

You hate and love it at the same time. How on earth can he look so boyfriend without trying?

“Hey, Jeongguk,” you call softly, taking short strides towards him, hoping that your hair looks good and not like a frizzy mess from the wind.

His head pops up, glimmering eyes like two black pools of water gazing back at you. Then a soft grin forms on his lips, skin creasing, dimpling, and cute.

“Hey.” Jeongguk tucks his phone into his pants pocket. His perfume wafts over to you the moment he moves, welcoming you like a warm hug after a long day.

You want to bury your nose in it and never forget the smell.

“Sorry, I got caught up with something on the way here. Were you waiting for a while?”

“Nah, I’ve been here for like two minutes. Did you bring it?” He adjusts his bag for a moment.

“Yep.” You hand him the shirt, neatly folded and smelling of your fabric softener, along with the umbrella tied. “All clean.” A cute smile grows on his face as he gently takes the items and puts it in his bag, humming excitedly under his breath which makes your entire body warm. “Listen, are you off for the rest of the day?”

“Yeah, I have all morning classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. You?”

“Same and it just so happens that I needed a walking buddy to the subway station.” You take the first step towards the exit when he agrees with a short chuckle and a nod. Your apartment building is one stop away while Jeongguk is about four stops away so you won’t get to talk much but the sentiment is what matters.

Plus, all you really want is to be close to him and his family again. There was a real bond going on when you were young and now you’ve been handed a golden chance to reignite that spark.

Fresh air fills your lungs while your ears pick up on the sounds of fading conversations, the smell of food and new school supplies greets your nose. You have yet to reach the economics building, where more people know you, so people here aren’t staring just yet. They’re preoccupied with their own lives and you want to appreciate it for a little longer.

“By the way, thanks for Saturday. I’m sure dealing with five drunk weirdos must’ve been annoying,” you add.

You barely remember the words coming out of your mouth. It was a slew of garbled song lyrics, high thoughts and giggles and that’s the best you can do. There’s no way Jeongguk was walking out of the night sane.

He huffs out a laugh and then shakes his hair out of his eyes in a very attractive manner. “It was… well, it was something, I’ll tell you that much. But you don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.” Then Jeongguk looks at you with his chin tilted down, lids low, almost glazed over like he’s checking you out but his gaze just dances over the features of your face.

You get incredibly shy with him staring at you like that.

Let’s hope you aren’t turning tomato red right now.

“Jimin and Tae go out a lot so I’m used to making sure they don’t, like, die.”

Jeongguk is like Jeongyeon in that sense. Always taking care of people and making sure they are safe in bed before worrying about themselves. Sometimes, she forgets that she’s allowed to have fun and let loose too and you don’t want Jeongguk to fall into the same mindset. Being the caretaker all the time can be draining.

“I mean, it’s your birthday and the rest of us were getting fucked up. Usually, it’s the other way around.”

Your 20th was nothing short of a hot mess. Nayeon snuck in bottles she got her older brother to buy and you tried to take a shot from every single type he brought. Whiskey, vodka, soju, sake, and beer. Safe to say, that was a rookie mistake that ended up hunched over a toilet bowl for almost an hour. Nayeon held your hair while Jeongyeon ordered just enough carbs and hangover soup to make it all better.

But it was a memory you hold dear to you because it was one of the last moments you felt like it was okay for you to be a stupid teenager and make a mistake.

Jeongguk didn’t get that moment and you want him to because that sloppy behavior won’t be cute when he’s in his late 20s or early 30s.

“I didn’t want to,” he shrugs simply. “Drinking is sorta fun but I don’t love it and I never let myself get super drunk.” You want to ask why but Jeongguk continues speaking. “But we had cake and barbecue before coming to the club and my parents sent a care package, so it was a good birthday. Taking care of you guys didn’t ruin everything.”

You relent a little. Perceptions of fun are different after all and maybe, for Jeongguk, he got exactly what he wanted so he isn’t complaining. The residual guilt fades slowly inside of you.

“As long as you enjoyed your birthday,” you sigh, a wave of something sentimental coming over you causes your heels to raise up so you can be tall enough to ruffle his fluffy perfect hair. The same boy who only dressed in Pokémon shirts is now legal, old enough to do whatever he wants, and you’re starting to feel a little soft about it. “Can’t believe you’re twenty!” You squeal. “You’re all grown up!”

Jeongguk cringes, turning away from your constant pinches and prods and whining as a few eyes drift towards the two of you. His ears get the tiniest bit red but he doesn’t scold you so you continue teasing him.

“Remember when you used to hand draw all of my birthday cards with little cartoons and you and Eunchae would come with my mom and I to look at all of the cakes at the store?”

The filmstrip of memories is painfully nostalgic. That one nice cake store a few streets away from your apartment building that made the best cakes. If you close your eyes, you can smell the sugary air as you walk in, a tinkling bell on the door to let the owners know someone was there, and the various cakes put in the display case. You always got the fudgiest chocolate cake with bright red strawberries on top. Your mom could only afford the small size but that was fine. You just wanted a cake.

Jeongguk would come with you and press his face to the glass in complete awe. Sometimes, the three of you would pretend like you were rich people who got to buy big cakes whenever they pleased and you’d pick the biggest sizes of your favorite flavors.

You always got chocolate, Jeongguk got some sort of fruit while Eunchae would get red velvet and you would dream of the day when you had enough money to indulge yourself on a whim. .

Then, when Jeongguk’s mom opened up her bakery, she began making your birthday cakes so the three of you sort of got your wish but those were free. Made with love and compassion until you moved too far to feel it.

“You still remember all of that?” He asks. The stone pathway turns. A signal that the economics building is getting closer by the second.

Trying not to think about it, you answer him. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” You’ve always had impeccable memory but you treasured every second of your childhood.

Because your later teens, in Seoul and away from all that you knew, were terrible.

“I barely remembered what I ate yesterday,” Jeongguk laughs, staring over at you. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“You think so?” You turn to look at him when you feel his eyes linger for longer than usual. His stare isn’t piercing but it leaves a viable imprint on your skin like a thick layer of lotion. “What?” You get self-conscious. Is there something in your hair? Did a bird shit on you without you noticing?

“I like your hair,” Jeongguk says after a moment, pointing to the clear clip holding all of your hair up.

A few of the shorter strands come out from the tight hold with time, framing your face, while the rest remain bunched up with a large claw clip. It’s such an effortless look. This morning you were too lazy to fully style your hair with a hair dryer and a brush after spending too much time on it for your sham date with Wooshik. It’s starting to get a little greasy so you plan to wash it tomorrow but this is your go-to dirty hair look.

“Oh, thanks.” A goofy grin nearly breaks out onto your face but you stop it halfway. “I like your earrings.” You want to return Jeongguk’s compliment with one of your own. Your pointer finger runs through the three thick hoops like a wind chime, causing Jeongguk’s shoulder to rise up thanks to the ticklish sensation, getting shy. “How on earth did your mom allow all of these piercings?”

Mrs. Jeon lost her shit when a 14-year-old you greeted her with a second hole in your ears when she was coming home from the grocery store. An upperclassman offered to pierce everyone’s ears using the nurses supplies in exchange for cigarettes or candy from a nearby convenience store. Since she was your guardian for the day while your mom was out for a certification exam, she felt irresponsible but you assured her that your mom was okay with it.

Well, she had no idea at the time but you knew she’d get over it at some point. It was a second ear piercing, not like you got a tattoo on your forehead.

“These were all presents, actually.” Your fingers brush the back of his palm as you get closer to the economics building at the end of the road, a little before the sidewalk down the main road begins, as your dread multiplies. “I learned that from you. Convinced mom and dad that my good grades warranted some award and they had no choice but to say yes.”

A dangerously familiar feeling mixed with pride courses through your veins like the newest drug. Jeongguk says he doesn’t remember much but he manages to reach in and pull out a sickly sweet memory from your childhood that has your insides turning into mush. You almost want to wrap your arms around your stomach to get it to stop flipping so much.

You didn’t ask for much as a kid. Growing up you knew that money was tight so expensive things like the best console or brand name clothes were simply out of the question. But you liked to barter with your mom for more simple things. A good grade for ice cream or a day at the beach or a trip to the bookstore to buy a manga edition you’ve been waiting to read.

It wasn’t all the time but when you felt like you wanted to celebrate yourself. You earned it after all.

Then you got a little older and you wanted to become like the cool older girls you went to school with. So you dropped ice cream for piercings, nail polish, and CDs from all of the new idol groups that were popular at the time. Your mom was frugal of course, most of your stuff was cheap from the local dollar store or second hand markets, but she loved to treat you. She wished she could spoil you one day, buy you everything you could lay your eyes on, however the universe didn’t allow her to do that.

She still can’t but that’s okay. You’re glad you didn’t grow up a spoiled brat. That you learned humility and patience and empathy because it’s those traits that set you apart from most of your classmates.

“I taught you well.” Fingers itching to flick his chin, you hold back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with all of the touching.

Jeongguk hums. “Got these and these,” he turns his head to the other side to show you almost five studs in his ear, “after my class rank and CSAT score came out.”

“Didn’t that hurt?”

You do your best to keep your eyes either on the ground or on Jeongguk as the almighty building comes into view. Despite the heavy beating in your chest, your inner turmoil shouldn’t be obvious.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to know about your problems. Those are yours and yours alone.

“Yeah but it wasn’t unbearable. I swear, Eunchae almost passed out when she got her doubles. She hates needles.”

You laugh. “I remember. Your sister was freaking out when we were all getting our vaccines because she literally slithered down onto the floor the moment she saw the thing.”

Jeongguk hums. There’s a small break in the conversation as the two of you pass by a huge yet short wave crowd of people who are either rushing to the cafeteria or to their next class but even through all of that, you can feel eyes all over the two of your backs. Especially yours.

Your department members linger by the vending machines and smoking areas in little judgmental pods, whispering about you amongst themselves.

You can predict what they’re saying.

There she goes again, latching onto another guy after Wooshik dumped her poor pathetic ass.

Will she ever learn?

Poor thing. He probably doesn’t know that he’s dealing with the campus whore.

That word. That one word, repeats in your mind. Whore, whore, whore. That’s all you’ll ever be to them.

Fear sets in. What will they say about Jeongguk? Will he get teased? Will he find out about your reputation and want nothing to do with you afterwards? No, the last thing you want is for him to get tangled in all of this. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Know about all of the things people whisper about you when they think you aren’t listening.

At some point, he’ll find out. No matter how hard you try to hide it, push it down, pretend everything is okay, Jeongguk will come to know what everyone thinks of you and all of the nasty vitriol they throw your way.

And when he does, you’re going to have to learn to let go of whatever you two have right now and whatever builds in your heart until all you have left to cling to Jeongguk are the sweet memories of your life in Busan.

Because that’s how it goes for you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeongguk stumbles into his apartment and throws his backpack onto his gaming chair, quickly calculating the amount of free time he has right now.

He has a group match in about two hours for League of Legends and he plans on canceling on them since he had to wake up early today. Jeongguk’s sleep schedule was fucked up all summer and suddenly, waking up at 6am instead of going to bed around then was quite literally torture.

There’s no guilt when Jeongguk texts them. He doesn’t owe his teammates anything, not like he’s joined a real league anyways. He has other priorities.

Now that he’s a student again, his sleep schedule sort of matters. His mother would cry learning about the absolute buffoonery he was committing over summer session with his new league he met online. Playing various games until the sun was peeking through his blinds and then ordering breakfast from McDonald’s while entering another battle. Usually that would entice him but all he feels is exhaustion.

Most of it is from lugging his heavy ass backpack around all day in the sun. Some of it is still from this weekend. There’s a reason Jeongguk isn’t an avid partier.

Quickly, he throws whatever pre-packaged dish he bought into the microwave and changes out of his school clothes into some sweatpants and a different shirt. All part of his usual after school routine. Then he carefully takes the steaming plate out once it’s done and sets it on the counter to cool before going to the bathroom to wash his hands.

As he walks through his hall, something presses into the soles of his feet. It’s soft but flexible and round with a hard plastic bit strung onto it that digs into his skin.

“Ouch!” He stops midway, moving his foot and staring at the mystery item. Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow at first.

It looks like one of Taehyung’s many charm bracelets that he buys from those street vendors in Hongdae with the cute little charms around colored string. Jeongguk has one from him ( a black string with a baby pink bunny charm that he wears every now and then). The idiot probably dropped it while singing karaoke or doing his Scarface impersonation to make Jimin laugh. Jeongguk takes his phone out to text the guy but he realizes that Taehyung hasn’t been to his apartment in a few days.

The only other person that has been here was… you.

He bends down to look at the bracelet. Were you wearing one that night? Your bracelets didn't look like this. They were metal, not string. Jeongguk bends at the knees and picks it up. The string is elastic and stretchy but loose enough to fit around his wrist if needed.

Oh, it’s a hair tie.

You must’ve dropped it when you slept over. Jeongguk turns the thing around to see the charm. The elastic itself is plain black but the charm seems to be some Sanrio character that he recognizes but cannot remember the name of.

Hello Kitty? No, he knows her and she doesn’t look like this.

Cinnamoroll? No, that’s a puppy. This is some weird purple looking thing.

My Melody? Maybe.

Fuck, he doesn’t have time to worry about this. Jeongguk shoves the damn thing in his pocket, makes a mental reminder to text you about it after eating lunch, and goes to quickly wash his hands. His fingers push the door open to his bathroom. Clean white tiles, the scent diffuser smelling of white musk, and his TMNT towel drying on the rack.

Jeongguk looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes are sunken in and a little swollen from the lack of sleep. His stomach rumbles as he lathers his hands in his fresh cotton hand soap.

But all he can think about is you on that night.

Saturday Night.

The night felt never-ending.

Jeongguk was doing his best to get everyone in a car ride home safely after song after song on the dance floor but he was getting a little overwhelmed with all that was thrown onto him in the span of a few short minutes when Nayeon decided she wanted to go home.

Laughing, tripping, complaining about vomiting, a smell coming from some random spot that’s making someone nauseous, Jeongguk felt like a parent trying to get their kids together. His phone was glued to his hands to call cabs and type in addresses while making sure the five of you didn’t wander off into the unknown without his supervision.

Thankfully, one of your friends managed to usher the other into a cab and Jimin was able to shove a whiny Taehyung into the one Jeongguk had ordered so now all he had left was you.

Drunk you was something else. Stuck onto him like a second layer, arms twined tightly around his waist, mumbling about something random while stumbling over every step. Jeongguk had half a mind to just pick you up and walk to where the guy had parked but he didn’t want to make your nausea even worse by swinging you around.

“Wait! Jeongguk, I can’t find my phone, we have to go back,” you whined, tugging on his arm with one hand. “I-I can’t–hiccup–I can’t live without my-my phone!”

You were clutching your phone in your other hand.

He sighed. “You’re holding it,” motioning to the device pressed into your fingers. “Come on, the cab is parked there.” The yellow thing looked like something descending from the heavens while the driver finished the last of his cigarette and belched loud enough for Jeongguk to hear.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I trust you.” You mumbles, hugging him close like he was a large pillow.

The next few minutes passed by a bit quicker as you let Jeongguk help you into the car and started on your way back to his apartment since you and your friends were incapable of remembering your address.

He leaned against the tough upholstery as the car began moving. Muscles tight and tired. Jeongguk felt the rivulets of sweat dripping down on his neck which he quickly wiped off and onto his pants, something he usually doesn't do but he’s at the state of not really giving a fuck about clothes he’s going to wash anyways. His body bobbles with a shaky turn and somehow, your limp body ends up pressed into his side, head leaning on his chest while a muffled groan leaves your painted lips.

“Ah s-sorry,” you slurred, attempting to sit up by placing a hand on Jeongguk’s mid-thigh. “I forgot to put on my belt.” Your perfume flowed to him, a soft clean scent, maybe a bit sucrose when mixed with the scent of your shampoo.

“Oh, the belt is finicky on that side, ma’am.” The driver informs. He meets both of your eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay. Lean on your boyfriend for the rest of the drive. Should only take a few more minutes!”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to correct but you interrupt him with a giggle. His head switches to you, mouth covered, skin dimpling. “Boyfriend.” You repeat.

The driver plays along, most likely very confused, just like Jeongguk. “You two make a lovely couple.”

That next statement makes you giggle a little more. Jeongguk wants to know what is so funny about this cab driver assuming the two of you are dating. Do you find the hypothetical to be so insanely outrageous that it’s hilarious? Should he even bother asking or should he let it go to save himself the pain from hearing your brazenly honest answer?

Jeongguk chooses to ignore it. He knows another turn is coming up so he raises his left arm and nudges you closer to rest on him comfortably. That same arm circles around your shoulders and the top of your head tickles the bottom of Jeongguk’s nose. You’re warm and comforting after a long night, bringing up a slew of feelings he’s been pushing down for years at this point.

Still mumbling to yourself, you become distracted with the jewelry on Jeongguk’s hand so you don’t hear the questions that the cab driver throws your way.

“How long have you two been dating?” He asks, turning down the late night radio station playing old hits.

Jeongguk just goes along with it. “It’s-uh-very recent, sir.” A four hour relationship to be exact. “But I’ve known her since we were kids.”

“How cute! My wife and I only dated for a few months before I proposed, you know,” he proclaims proudly, shoulders broadening. Jeongguk nods and fakes a grin in hopes that the conversation ends here.

Jeongguk wants to laugh. Marriage?

He’s never even been in a relationship before. He’s barely gone past kissing someone for longer than two minutes. With the way things are going, Jeongguk will probably live his life exactly like Steve Carell in the movie The 40-year-old Virgin only there’s no way he’ll get a happy ending.

The cab driver laughs to himself when he sees the look on Jeongguk's face before turning the music back up. You’ve successfully knocked out on Jeongguk’s chest so you miss the faint redness creeping up his neck and to his ears but it’s not something he wants you to see either. His brain zeros in on his own pathetic state of affairs.

He’s always prided himself on his emotional maturity for someone so young but romantically? Horrendous.

Jeongguk has always stood behind the belief that he simply isn’t meant to be in a relationship with anyone. Sometimes he can be too shy, too closed off, and people don’t gravitate towards people like that. They want someone who can be openly affectionate after a few conversations and Jeongguk simply isn’t the type. The only reason why he has friends like Taehyung and Jimin is because they made an effort to get to know him at his pace. It’s the same with you, who was older and a girl but you still made the effort to invite Jeongguk to watch Barbie movies or search for coins to get the cheapest candy at the convenience store. People usually don’t care after he brushes them off a few times but you did, Taehyung and Jimin did, and Jeongguk gets all fuzzy inside.

Would he ever find someone like you three again? Would he ever be so lucky? Probably not.

He looks over at your face smushed against his chest, playing with the zipper of his jacket. You’re so pretty, always have been, always will be, like a rare flower. Even after all of this time, he’s so taken aback by how effortlessly beautiful you are; on the outside and the inside. The way your hair falls delicately over your face, cheeks puffed, lips puckered; the way your shirt gives you an angelic look and your necklace lies perfectly in the middle of your collarbones.

It’s enticing. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of you. He never could.

Fuck, this random reunion might do more harm than good if Jeongguk doesn’t learn to control himself. This isn’t the time to reawaken old feelings that he pushed down for a good reason.

Once the cab stops in front of his apartment building, Jeongguk pays him and then helps you out of the car. Body limp and slippery like slinky.

“No, I forgot how to walk,” you mumbled, leaning against one of the pillars outside the building to keep yourself up straight. “Can’t I just sleep here? It’s comfortable.”

“That’s a concrete pillar.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his slightly dampened hair. “Come on, there’s an elevator and I don’t live too high up. You’ll sleep better on my bed.”

A pout grows stronger on your face, a few streaks of something black collecting in the corner of your eyes and your lipstick is smeared a little but Jeongguk still finds you so put together and exquisite. Still like that rare flower on top of a mountain peak; beautiful yet impossible to reach.

“Fine.” You peel yourself off the pillar. “But if you’re lying to me, I’m gonna pinch those cute little cheeks right off your face.” Squishing his flesh momentarily before dropping your hands, Jeongguk blinks a few times in shock.

Focus, Jeon. She needs to rest.

Getting you inside is easier than he thought. The promise of the elevator and a warm bed with some water turned you much more docile. But you’re still enamored by his rings which you slip on and off his fingers as the elevator beeps. Then, Jeongguk slips off your shoes and tells you to wait by the kitchen counter while he rifles through his things, handing you a shirt and directing you to the bathroom.

A loud sigh escapes his lips once he’s all alone. Jeongguk has about ten seconds to change himself. He’s been in these tight jeans that squeeze his legs like anything. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so hard in the gym over the summer. Now most of his old clothes don’t fit him as well as they used to.

Quickly, he throws on his pajamas just as you emerge from the bathroom and hum a random song from tonight.

Then, he helps you into bed, groaning out at the soreness in his muscles from all of the lifting he’s been doing today. You don’t fight back too much, clearly worn out, so you sink into the soft padding easily like a little kitten. He throws the blankets over you, does a quick check to see if you’re okay, and then gets into his own makeshift bed made out of a thin mattress and a set of sheets.

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his own bed and his back might be mad at him tomorrow but it’ll do for now.

Just as Jeongguk is beginning to fall into deep sleep, he hears you rusting around, mumbling under your breath about something. Your hands push yourself up on your elbows. For a second, he thinks you’re going to throw up so he gets up quickly and makes his way to his kitchen to grab a plastic bag.

But you start speaking louder.

“I can’t believe you, Seojoon.” Your hair sticks out from every corner as you flop back down, lips bloated and pouty, slapping around the comforter and pointing to no one. “I hate you.” Jeongguk’s eyebrow raises, pausing in the middle of his kitchen to decipher what on earth you are talking about.

Clearly, you’re having a nightmare. Jeongguk takes quiet steps back to his spot on the floor in order to avoid that one squeaky

“You cheated on me with Somin, didn’t you? You bastard. You told me you loved me,” whining, your body twists around. “Why else would I let you fuck me?”

Jeongguk reels his brain back to stop the curious sympathy right there. He doesn’t want to prod further into this bad dream involving a fight with an ex of some sort. It’s none of his business and clearly this wasn’t meant for him to hear. All he does care about is if you’re going to vomit or not.

He calls your name. “Are you okay?” Jeongguk whispers.

You don’t respond. Instead, your face twists in discomfort as you continue to mumble into his mattress and writhe around.

Jeongguk grows increasingly worried. He doesn’t want you to choke or anything of the sort while he’s deep in REM. Slowly, he gets down on his knees to get a closer look at you tossing and turning.

“It hurts so much.”

Jeongguk gently places a hand on your arm, saying your name softly so you don’t wake up. “Hey, you okay? Do you want water?” You twist away from his touch at first. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s Jeongguk,” reminding you as your lids barely part. He thinks you register him, that maybe you’re somewhat awake right now as you begin to curl forward.

But then your hands clasp Jeongguk’s arms tightly, restricting his every move.

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Your voice slurs, the tip of your nose meeting the fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave indents.

Nothing but confusion clouds Jeongguk’s brain. What are you talking about?

“You told me you loved me. What? Don’t you want me anymore?”

Tightening around him, you bury your face into his neck again. Your arms begin to raise, wrap around his shoulders to bring your body closer to his rigid frame. Jeongguk feels wetness from your eyes begin to drip onto his skin, dampening his shirt.

“Just do it then. Just leave me. No one ever sticks around anyways. Guys always leave me the moment something new comes along. Every single one,” you enunciate, vibrating into him, crying softly. “You don’t even care about how much you hurt me. No one cares.”

Jeongguk is paralyzed under your hold as your tears start to roll down. Your sobs are loud and erratic and painful, as if all of this hurt has building until you eventually couldn’t hold onto it anymore. That it took alcohol and a long night to wedge it out of you.

It’s contradictory; holding him tight and telling him to leave you.

But he doesn’t push you away and he doesn't let go. Jeongguk lets you grip onto him for safety because he’s terrified that removing his touch could break you even further.

He doesn’t know what is happening in your dream to make you behave like this, he doesn’t know what made the previous glee that used to make your eyes bright fade away after all of those years passed. He wants to ask but he doesn't know how.

All Jeongguk does know is that you were different. Not in a good or bad way but you were simply different. The happy go lucky little girl grew into a hardened adult. When he looked into your eyes tonight, he saw traces of all of this hurt woven alongside other emotions. Like a heavy blanket that only pushes you further and further deeper into a more melancholic way of being.

And as he helps you back into bed once your tears stop falling, rubs some cooling Vicks rub on your forehead and pulls the cover close, his brain turns into an echo chamber until he tires himself to sleep.

No one ever sticks around anyways.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A week has passed and while you thought you could gain control of your physics plight, it seems like the universe has some different plans.

The tutor that you selected, a second year girl who is majoring in electrical engineering, has been a total flake. You exchanged numbers with her on Thursday during Week 1 and she fed you all of these sweet words about wanting to become friends and teaching in a friendly, kind way which immediately softened you. The last thing you wanted was for some dickhead to call you stupid because you didn’t understand the concept the first time.

She said she’d meet you at the library that Saturday at 3pm to come up with a schedule and she never showed. So you rescheduled to Sunday, then Monday, then Tuesday and now you just feel like an idiot.

There’s always some excuse. Either she slept in or she’s not feeling well or her roommate needs her but you’re losing your damn mind right now.

“You’re not paying her, right?” Jeongyeon asks, rummaging through Nayeon’s bag for something. “Maybe she’s a scammer?”

You give her a dull look. “She doesn’t get paid by me. I think the university does or she’s earning credits, I don’t know. But I’m fucked for the big quiz we have next week.”

It’s only Week 2 but the material is daunting and frankly put, you’ll shit your pants the day of the actual quiz and whatever date the final is. This is all so unfamiliar to you and, unlike other subjects, you struggle to find that area where the content becomes interesting. All you feel is terror.

Nayeon, ever the optimist, tries to lift your spirit.

“Girl, that shit is next week. Do yourself a favor, find a new tutor, study a whole bunch and then ace the quiz. There’s no point in waiting for this random girl to start caring. It’s your grade after all.”

“Yeah but I just don’t want someone that’s going to be an asshole when I get things wrong.”

People love to dumb you down, especially those in your own department. Obviously your promiscuity directly correlates to your intelligence. Girls can only be slutty or smart, right? There exists no gray area. But you know yourself. Even if science and math aren’t your thing, you’re a smart person. You got into a top performing university without any fancy prep classes or coaches and you are consistently pulling good grades each semester. That speaks more about you and your capabilities than anything else.

“I’ve heard this one guy is pretty good. He’s a teacher’s assistant pursuing his masters degree here.” Nayeon takes her phone out to look him up. “My friend was in his Chemistry group sessions and he was apparently super helpful and kind. I think he does physics too. Let me ask her.”

You perk up. It would be perfect if you could land a tutoring session with this TA instead of your missing student tutor. Even if it’s a group setting

“Let me know what your friend says.” You look away from the two in front of you for a split second as your attention was cut by your phone vibrating on the table. Flipping it over you see a text from your flakey tutor herself.

Reading it over, you roll your eyes heavily. Another lame excuse about her skipping out on your tutoring session because she scheduled a meeting with her professor at the exact same time by accident. You ignore it and plan to respond with a passive aggressive rejection to end all of this bullshit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongyeon and Nayeon try to discreetly take their edibles before digging into the food you all ordered.

Steaming plates of rice, kimchi, stir-fry and meats along with a few fried foods makes your stomach grumble. You flip your phone back over and grab your chopsticks, changing the subject quickly.

“What are you guys doing after this?” You ask. The edibles are going to last a while and considering a weed high has different stages, there’s no way these two are going to be eating the entire time. Munchies aren’t that strong.

Jeongyeon wiggles her eyebrows suggestively to her girlfriend, cheeks full like a chipmunk, and Nayeon turns beet red. Enough context for you to figure it out, breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Ohhh, I see.”

Good for them. If only you were getting laid too. Lately, your vibrator has been your best friend late at night when your mind wanders.

With thirteen settings, it’s safe to say you won’t be getting bored for a while.

However, you’ve never done it while being high. You’d want to do it with someone you’re comfortable with, maybe a consistent trustworthy hookup and only if consent is 100% enthusiastic, but you can only imagine how heightened the senses feel.

Getting lost in thought, you cross one of your legs over the other, thinking about the haziness parting as you ride them slow but deep. Your hands will grip their shoulders, nails digging into the tight flesh as the drag of their length is delicious inside of you. Moaning out loud at how full you feel, watching the sharp bone of his jaw unhinge with pleasure, thick silver earrings brushing your skin, dark hair between your fingers as you increase the pace and drive the two of you to the tipping point.

It sounds… so satisfying.

Fuck, okay, you need to get some control over yourself. It must be the week before your period or something because your mind has been cooking up these scenarios that demand attention.

And most of the time it involves some familiar looking yet faceless character giving you the best dick you’ve ever gotten. It’s really messing with you.

How the fuck are you going to be Miss Celibacy if your ass can’t go a week without sex?

You stab your chopsticks into a large chunk of tofu and stare at the red sauce over the surface before shoving it into your mouth in hopes of distracting you when an angry recognizable voice flutters past your table.

“..and this bitch has the nerve to look me dead in the eye and go, ‘well, you just lost yourself a customer,’ as if any of us give a shit. Like ma’am I get paid minimum wage to make watery coffee and reheat cardboard sandwiches regardless of your purchase, please leave me alone and die.”

Turning your head, you see tufts of blonde and shiny boots combined with the soft smell of peaches: Jimin.

And right next to him is none other than Jeon Jeongguk who is chuckling at Jimin’s whiny Karen tone to describe his awful customer. His cheeks creasing, eyes getting shinier and cute.

You can feel your body thrum with excitement.

“Hey guys!” Nayeon waves, setting down her utensils. They turn to look at her, then Jeongyeon and then at you, bowing while greeting. Your shoulders cave in when you feel Jeongguk’s stare on your face. “Do you wanna eat lunch with us?”

“Hell yeah. Is the menu today good?” Jimin asks.

Jeongyeon, with a mouth full of food, nods excitedly which is perfect. Jeongguk and Jimin laugh, motioning to the lunch line quickly so you save the table and go back to eating your lunches. Your brain demands another curious glance at Jeongguk’s retreating figure.

What? He looks really fucking sexy from the back.

Ever since the first day of school, you agreed to ride the subway back with Jeongguk on the days you end class at the same time and you've come to the conclusion that he is quite literally the hottest guy on the entire planet. Hotter than any other guy you’ve wasted your time with.

He has the most boyish features but his body is perfectly crafted. Wide shoulders, defined thighs and arms, a super sculpted back, but not overly burly where he looks fake. Like an exquisite marble statue from the Hellenistic period.

Yes, yes, you know it’s sort of weird considering the fact that you’ve watched grow up from a cute kid to an emo pre-teen and now jumping to the absolute meal he is now but it’s just some simple attraction.

One that rears its ugly head whenever Jeongguk laughs or smiles or pushes his hair out of his face or tongues his cheek or does literally anything.

There are a million reasons why this could’ve happened. From all the time spent together from the subway rides to morning coffee and dinner one night (with all of your friends but it still counts) or you’re thinking this silly little attraction might be a combination of a lack of dick, PMS and pure loneliness. Either way, it isn’t anything major.

Finding a way to ignore it is the next step.

Nayeon nudges you. “Remind me again, how exactly are you two childhood friends?” Her cheeks puffed with food.

“Oh, I lived in Busan until high school and he was my neighbor. I would always hang out with him and his two sisters.” You explain, taking another bite of soft sticky rice.

“Older sisters?”

You shake your head. “One older and one younger.” Wondering why this is relevant.

But then, Nayeon and Jeongyeon make eye contact, eyebrows raising like they do when they know something you don’t. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there like an idiot, waiting for context with your chopsticks held halfway up to your mouth.

“Green flag. Bright green fucking flag.” Jeongyeon whistles.

“Huh?” Your chopsticks barely prod your lip without your mouth opening. Did the edibles pull out some secret stoner knowledge that you aren’t aware of?

Jeongyeon decides to explain it to you. “According to the girlies on tiktok, men with older sisters are usually green flags. Something about learning gentleness and patience and respecting women from an early age or whatever. I don’t get you heteros so it went past my head.”

You’re puzzled at first. These men all have mothers, they came from a woman who nursed them and cared for them until now, why is having an older sister so different?

But then it hits you.

The way Jeongguk treats you is so different from the way most guys treat you. There’s no domineering masculinity coming from him in heavy waves trying to overpower you. It’s softer. He’s so approachable and gentle. He never touches you unless you’re okay with it, he’s always polite and kind and sweet. He never makes you feel stupid or inadequate, doesn’t talk over you, nothing of the sort.

And while it’s the barest of minimum, Jeongguk makes you feel safe.

Even Jeongyeon and Nayeon, who are often not comfortable around straight men, found him to be a delight. That has to mean something.

“I…I never thought about it,” your voice goes a little husky. Tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face as your cheeks get a little warm. “He’s just a good guy, you know. Jihyo, his sister, always kept him in check. I guess, it’s a good thing.”

Kids lead by example. Growing up in an environment where the adults around you were treating women poorly or pushing people around will appear in relationships. But Jeongguk was the opposite.

“It is. Think about it,” Nayeon leans in, “after all of those duds you’ve been with, he’s just what you’re looking for.”

The way your heartbeat accelerates is not a good sign.

Your chin pulls back, like you’re leaning away from the possibility. “What? I’m not gonna date him, Nayeon,” you groan under your breath.

“Why not?” She whines, slamming her fists onto the table, then laughing slightly at the indents left on his skin.

“Because he has no interest in dating right now,” you grumble, remembering his words from his birthday.

Even if you did try to pursue it, there’s a high chance Jeongguk might only see you as his older sister’s friend. Which is how it should be! It’s best that you let this silly little crush die like a lonely star and maintain your promise of making this year all about you. Your bullet vibrator is going to have to help you whenever you get the urge but besides that, no sex, no dates, no boys, nothing of the sort.

“Did he tell you that?” Jeongyeon asks, eyes glazing over. The weed must be hitting pretty hard. You’re surprised they can keep up with this conversation.

Then again, they’re probably used to it.

You nod. “At the club.” Snorting, your eyes briefly flick to the other side of the cafeteria where a certain someone sits. “Juri offered him her number and he said he wasn’t going to go out with her.”

That seems to wake the brunette up. “Fuck, really? I wish I saw that,” she pouts, leaning on the blonde curled up next to her. Cute.

“Well, he didn’t say no since you two started fucking hazing him the moment you saw him,” you scold. “But he told me he was going to reject her if/when he saw her in person.”

“Hey! You were the one who directed us to shoo away any man that came up to you that night.” Nayeon defends. “We were just listening to instructions when we came over to stop you two.”

Jeongyeon joins in. “Yeah, and he looked like your usual type so we assumed we should pull you away. How were we supposed to know the super hot guy you were talking to was a friend?”

You open your mouth to quip back when you feel a presence behind you, casting a shadow on your back. The lingering smell of cologne and food dance in the air. A wave of despair crashes inside of your stomach and you really wish a black hole would open up right under to sweep you away from this hellscape.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Taehyung Jimin split to sit on the bench between Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s bench and yours. It's a square shaped table with four benches on each side, so enough space for two people per bench. The two couples share a bench while you and Jeongguk get your own, although he still sits closer to you on his own bench.

“U-uh–” Jeongyeon stutters, looking at you with wide eyes for help.

“Oh, just some guy,” you fake a laugh, flicking some hair out of your face and turning to food so you can shovel it in your face like a starved person.

Taehyung laughs a little. “Just some guy? Jeongyeon was saying that he’s super hot and your type.” He’s being cheeky, like he always is, but this time, you can’t engage in a back and forth with him.

Because the hot sweet guy you were talking about is sitting right next to you.

Your brain urges you to take a peek. Jeongguk is dressed like he usually is; a pair of baggy cargo pants and a light gray sweatshirt, and he always looks attractive. The fall wind is allowing you to smell the scent of his flowery shampoo in combination with his usual perfume and it’s such an addictive scent that you never want to forget.

But you can’t think about that. You should be thinking of a lie.

“I’ve always wondered if you had a boyfriend,” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his palm. A sly smirk forms on his lips, just as cheeky as his own boyfriend’s. “I asked Jeongguk and he said he didn’t know.”

Fuck. You look at him now, hair swishing with your movements. The boy is eating without a care and shrugs in response. “You never mentioned one.”

Yeah, because there isn’t one. You’ve never had a boyfriend in your life.

Sweat beads your palms. There has to be some guy that you can just drop in here for the sake of the conversation. Some random guy out in this cafeteria that is insignificant enough to never cross paths with you again so you can nip this conversation right in the bud.

You scan the place. There are a few guys you’ve already hooked up with so that’s a no. Some groups of first-years and that’s also a no (you’re not trying to catch a case here).

For fucks’ sake, are the only hot guys at this school Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk?

“Uh–”

Nayeon swoops in like a guardian angel. “We were talking about the Physics and Chem tutor. I don’t know if you guys have had him but, Kim Namjoon?”

Right, the tutor Nayeon’s friend went to. The really nice one.

She sends you a hidden wink from her end of the table and you respond with a quick finger heart. Bless her soul.

“Joon? Oh, he is so hot.” Jimin, to your surprise, bounces at the chance to thirst over this supposed sexy tutor that you’ve never seen before. His eyes roll back at the sheer thought of him, leaning closer to gossip. “He was our tutors for Physics 2 last semester and wow.” He shakes his head, marveled at such a man. “He could top me and then never speak to me again and I’d be okay with that.”

Now you’re curious about this Kim Namjoon. Just how hot is he?

Taehyung jumps in. “I agree, however, “he holds a single finger up, “I would also like to add Kim Seokjin, the bio tutor.” His eyes roll back dramatically. “Dream threesome. Foursome if you want babe,” he nudges the blonde who blushes in agreement.

Then the entire table breaks out into giggles and with a little coaxing, Nayeon and Jeongyeon reveal their ideal threesomes which you already know the answers to (Han Sohee and Irene from Red Velvet) since they share the same girl crushes. Then you answer begrudgingly which are the two male leads from Business Proposal because, obviously. However, the person next to you is rather quiet. You lightly nudge his side with your elbow to check in with him.

“You okay?” You’re asking just in case Jeongguk isn’t comfortable with sex talk.

But he nods. “Sorry, I’m still listening. Just really hungry. All I had for breakfast was a protein shake.” Jeongguk inhales the glazed stir-fry chicken on his plate, a dot of sauce landing on the corner of his lip and, oh my, do you want to wipe it off for him because he is so cute with his bready baby cheeks all puffed with food.

“Come on,” you pretend to scold. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Jeongguk’s mom would weep if she heard about him skipping.

He waves it off but you can see his ears get a little red. “Yeah, yeah, I know but I slept through my alarms so I was in a rush this morning. Almost pulled a Taehyung and crashed into the wall while trying to run out.”

You laugh at the image. Taehyung can be a bit of a klutz. At the club on Jeongguk’s birthday, he almost crashed into an entire table because he was dizzy from doing tiktok dances all night. Your head throws back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, and when you open them again, Jeongguk’s eyes are on you.

They feel explorative, searching every inch of your face like he doesn’t want to forget a single inch, lips quirked up in a half smile but it’s Jeongguk’s eyes that really take you aback. His eyes have never looked at you like that before.

As if something is swimming deep in those pools of glimmery chocolate brown; something warm and sweet in there.

“Sorry,” he blushes, turning his eyes away from your face and back onto his food. Your heart stops for a moment, looking down at his pillowy soft lips. They’re right there, moisturized and pink. All you really have to do is lean in.

And with the way Jeongguk looks at you, you really fucking want to.

He’s so beautiful. So pretty and sweet and kind and unlike any other guy you’ve ever wanted. The urge to go for him is almost primal that you can barely hold yourself back.

Your friends are like little angels in your head, goading you on to just do it. Just kiss him and take him and then drop it. Satiate that part of you that needs sex, that needs to fucked just right, and then move on. It would be different than usual because Jeongguk is different from the previous men so you wouldn’t get hurt.

Although…

He’s Jihyo’s little brother, the boy who needed to hold your hand when crossing the street, the kid always on his skateboard or his nose buried in a manga. Would it tarnish everything that you find familiar to just go for it? Would years of a perfectly healthy happy friendship go right down the drain?

But Jeongguk is an adult, only one year younger than you. There isn’t anything wrong.

Ideally, you could just lean in and–

“Jeongguk, what was the name of the blue penguin in the Backyardigans? I really need to know like now,” Taehyung urges, breaking your train of thought immediately.

You fly back as if the contact singes you, curling into yourself and placing a single hand on the surface of the table to catch your breath. You completely forgot about the whole conversation going on around you when you stared into Jeongguk’s pretty deep eyes.

It’s clear as day to you. With the man he’s become, it’s obvious that you are definitely into Jeon Jeongguk.

“Huh?” He rasps, slightly out of it too. “Oh-uh, Pablo. He’s the one that sings International Super Spy.”

“Pablo! I knew it.” Taehyung snaps his fingers loudly. “How do you still remember that?”

Jeongguk awkwardly forces out a laugh. “We watched a few episodes together this summer, remember?”

“Right. Pretty sure I was blazed out of my mind, though.”

Jimin nudges him. “Babe, when are you not blazed out of your mind?”

“When I’m with you, baby boy,” he coos.

The boy next to you groans out loud. “Ugh, you two are so nasty.” His voice is muffled by food but he still gets his point across. You bite back a giggle at the disgust on his face.

“Jeongguk, you can’t be mean to us. It’s homophobic.” Jimin points a chopstick in his direction but Jeongguk simply shrugs and continues eating without a care.

Jeongyeon pipes up. “I agree. That applies to you too, Queen of the Straights.”

The direct hit has pulled you out of your internal panic, reminding you to contribute to the conversation like friends usually do. Your eyes dull a little. “Yes ma’am.” Faking a soldier’s salute to make everyone laugh.

You’re glad that everyone else seems oblivious to what just happened because you know that had the two of you been alone, the situation would be entirely different.

And you don’t know if that outcome would be any better than this one.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On Friday, classes get canceled.

Thankfully, it’s nothing bad. All of the buildings are getting fumigated to keep out any infestations that might’ve crawled in over the summer since someone thought they saw a cockroach in the Arts building so all the professors decide to post the lecture information online or have virtual class if necessary.

You had no complaints with this change. Attend class in your pajamas, in your bed, and have the option to fall asleep without getting caught? Sounds perfect.

Although, no in person class means you don’t get to speak to your Physics professor to complain about your flakey tutor and find a new one which you were banking on completing before you had your huge quiz next week. So, once your final lecture ends, you begin to worry about how the hell you’re going to resolve that problem.

Sure, you could easily self-review with the resources online but you’ve always learned more theoretical concepts with someone explaining it to you in person so you could ask questions immediately.

You shut your laptop off and place it on top of the long coffee table you use as a desk. An open notebook with notes sits on your right, pen clicked off, highlighters placed neatly in your pencil case, and the silence of your studio apartment almost starts ringing in your ears.

Who do you know that can tutor you for physics?

Nayeon sent you the email address for the Namjoon person whom everyone is vouching for. You asked this morning if he had any space in his tutoring session but he responded saying that he does but he isn’t having a session today and he’s happy to answer any questions over email or through a video call individually.

You genuinely consider that option until you look up at the decor in your room that Namjoon has no chance of missing during the video call.

Now, you wouldn’t call yourself a strange person, if anything you are a well-adjusted member of society, but the pieces chosen to hang up in your studio apartment would raise some eyebrows. From the poster of Bibble from Barbie saying Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss to the concerning amount of Sanrio plushies you’ve collected over the years to all of the cat beds and toys thrown around the place and the impressive array of diffusers in every corner, your apartment is an amalgamation of you.

And you don’t know if this Namjoon guy is going to take one look at the place and peg you down as a fucking weirdo or not. You want to make a good impression on him.

So, you wrack your brain for a different option to help you just before your quiz next week.

Someone. Anyone.

Your worst bet is to walk over to the nearest cram school and ask someone there but those are all high school students and you’d die of embarrassment.

Then you remember, Jeongguk took Physics last semester. Maybe he can help.

Quickly, you pat around your duvet for your phone. It’s lying screen down a few inches away from Snowball’s sleeping body. Carefully, you grab the device, scroll through your contacts and call him with fiery hope coursing through you thickly.

“Hello?” His voice drips from the speakers like flowing water and you want to drown in it.

“Hey, are you done with online classes?” You ask, on your back and knees to your chest in a very suggestive position.

“Uh almost,” Jeongguk trails off. “Why? What’s up?”

You hold back a goofy smile at his distracted tone. “You know how you said you took physics last semester?” He hums in response. “Do you think you could explain a few concepts to me? I have this big ass quiz soon and I don’t wanna bomb it.”

You wait. The pessimist in you expects a rejection, a flat out ‘I’d rather die than waste my time explaining physics concepts to a 21-year-old,’ but the optimist is waiting with a bouquet of roses on the other side.

This is Jeongguk we’re talking about. Sweet, sweet, lovely Jeongguk. Not that dickhead that sits in the back of lecture and watches hentai on his phone.

“Oh. I’m not the best teacher.”

Both the optimist and pessimist in your head are waiting on the balls of their feet. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but it's an answer you aren’t hurt by!

“That’s okay! I just need someone to go over it with me. As long as you aren’t mean, I won’t complain.” You want to appeal to Jeongguk in a way that’ll get the guy to bend a little and what other way to a man’s heart than food? “I’ll repay you with dinner,” you sing-song.

There’s a brief pause, like he’s considering the option while noises mumble in the background. “What’s the menu?” Jeongguk asks.

God, he’s so cute. Your cheeks are raised so high, they might as well curl into your eyes.

“I live near a great fried chicken place.” Works out perfectly because you’ve been craving something fried for a while now. Must be your period.

Jeongguk barely waits a second. “Sold. Text me the time and your address.”

You cut the call after bidding each other goodbye. A giddy squeal almost bubbles out of your lips until you realize that you have about two hours until Jeongguk is in your apartment for the first time ever.

Alone. No friends. No family.

Just you and this super hot guy.

No interruptions. Complete privacy.

You launch out of bed so fast that you wake up Snowball from her slumber. Quickly, you shower and you take your time to scrub your body with lilac body wash and shave. Usually Friday is your pamper day so this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Then you wash your greasy hair to rid yourself of the conditioning hair mask you slathered on this morning. After your shower, you walk around your studio with your fluffy bathrobe and microfiber towel on to find the perfect outfit.

It has to be comfortable but cute. Even though Jeongguk is just tutoring you and there is a high chance that this meeting will only be platonic, you still want to look your best.

Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, your eyes immediately fall to your collection of baby-doll lingerie sets in various colors. An expensive purchase, but you’ve always enjoyed dressing up every now and then. Your fingers dance across the itchy lace, thinking about which one Jeongguk would like? Lilac? Baby pink? Maybe the nude one with the intricate designs on the cups? Or how about the blood red and black one that looks like it came straight out of a BDSM film?

Nah, that’s too much. You go for yoga pants, a plain t-shirt and a quarter-zip with your university’s logo on it. Then selecting a lacy pair of underwear and no bra. You hate wearing one at home anyways.

The clothes lay spread out on your bed as you begin your post shower process of lotion, deodorant, a soft scented body spray and then your clothes. Then, you dry your hair and then begin cleaning up the little clutter you have over the place. You’re a neat person, which others find shocking, so there isn’t much to do. You dry some dishes on the rack, reset your bedsheets, light up a candle, empty the litter box, and eat a mediocre salad as you wait for the clock to strike 5pm.

Time moves at a microscopic pace, probably because you’re staring at the moving hands in hopes that you’ll blink at the pretty boy will be standing at your doorstep. You should focus on something else in the meantime. So you take out your physics notebook and begin reviewing.

Next week’s quiz will be on a little under ½ of the energy chapter covered so far. You’ve been paying attention, taking diligent notes, and doing pretty good on the homework but the topics still freak you out.

It’s a STEM thing. You haven’t taken one since your first year so you’re rusty and the material seems extra intimidating. Unlike Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung, you don’t study this on a daily basis.

But there’s nothing you won’t be able to conquer without working.

About halfway through your revision is when the buzz of your home intercom rings, shocking you out of your thoughts. Slowly, you get up, dusting the invisible particles off your clothes and going over to the machine to let Jeongguk in. There’s a short waiting game, lasting about two minutes, as he probably comes up from the lobby and reaches your door before knocking.

You’re putting a kettle of water to boil as the sound resonates and you rush over to open the door with a bright smile on your lips.

“Hey,” you breathe out, taking in the sights before you.

As always, Jeongguk looks perfect in a gray long-sleeve t-shirt and black sweats. Like the comfy soft boyfriend of your dreams. His hair is a little damp at the ends but it waves a little past his eyebrow as it grows and his backpack straps pull his shirt wide to show off his broad shoulders.

Fucking hell, you think. You want to eat him up and ruin him.

Swallowing shakily, you step aside as he grins. “Hi.” Jeongguk’s voice is low, like usual, but a little buttery and less hoarse. Almost sexy.

Basically, it’s doing things to you.

Carefully, you lead him inside where Jeongguk takes his shoes off and stares at the place with those big eyes of his. You wonder what goes through that pretty head of his as he stares at the various stuffed animals and the wall art. But, instead, he lands on the Kirby shaped cat-bed at the base of your bed holding Snowball’s half-asleep body.

“You have a cat?” He asks.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” You walk in front of the thing, squatting down in front of the entrance to hold a hand out for the ball of fluff to sniff. Snowball headbutts you immediately. “You didn’t inherit your dad’s allergy, did you?”

That would crush you. As much as you like dogs, you’re a cat person at heart or a Snowball person at heart.

Jeongguk shakes his head no. Then he comes to the same spot you are and gets on his knees on the opposite side of you, watching with curious doe eyes. Slowly, Jeongguk extends his hand out, thinking Snowball needs time to get used to him like some cats do, but no. She’s friendly and extroverted, getting out of the bed to welcome Jeongguk with an excited soft-tone trill.

It’s heartwarming watching her melt into his touch, purring and climbing into Jeongguk’s lap the more he pets her on all of her favorite spots.

“You’ve been accepted,” you muse, crossing your arms over your stomach in hopes that by pushing on it, that buttery, gooey, sugary feeling will go away.

“Yay,” Jeongguk cheers cutely. “What’s her name?”

“Snowball.”

“Snowball!” He coos. “You are the cutest ever!” Jeongguk leans down to tell her, slight aegyo in his tone. The rounded tip of his nose brushes the top of her small head

No, you are, is what zings through your mind but don’t tell Snowball you thought that.

Since your knees start screaming at you to get up, you leave Jeongguk and Snowball to go check on the kettle which is at its very end of boiling the water. You get up on your tiptoes to pull out two white mugs and before grabbing your go-to peach green tea packets, you ask Jeongguk.

“Tea or coffee?”

Jeongguk looks up from Snowball curled on his lap, the body of a bright grin on his lips. “Coffee please.” When you nod, he goes back to petting the white feline without another care.

His adorable politeness removes any nerves you had or any prior sheepishness from the way your studio apartment looks. Small and decorated with all of your interests. The only people that have ever been here are your mother, Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Hookups were always at their place or a hotel so it’s a little odd to see Jeongguk seated on your floor.

But at the same time, it’s Jeongguk on your floor so you aren’t that worried.

Pouring the mugs with steaming hot water, you grab a packet of instant coffee while your tea bag steeps and you make Jeongguk his coffee. In the meantime, he’s seated by your coffee table/desk, shrugging his backpack off while Snowball sits beside Jeongguk diligently. Like she’s protecting him from whatever she thinks is going to attack him.

“I like your place,” Jeongguk says, shocking you for a moment. “It’s very,” he trails off. “Very you.”

You give him a dulled look over your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, it’s got all of your favorite things.” His chin gestures to the Sanrio stuffed animals, the various figurines from all of your favorite animes, the vintage posters, the bunny paraphernalia, all of your favorite things, like Jeongguk said.

You turn, pressing the small of your back to the cold counter behind you. “Your place is nice too,” you add for the sake of returning the compliment, although it is true.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Yeah but, my landlord is a gaping asshole and hates the idea of posters and paintings since he’s scared it’ll fuck up the wall. It’s nice but it feels dead,” he gives your apartment one more look, “but yours has some personality, you know? I’m kinda jealous.”

His smile is genuine, sweet and kind. You find yourself melting from the sheer sight of it but you hold yourself back. Don’t want to look too whipped.

Exhaling with some laughter, you start bringing the mugs over along with some biscuits since it’s tea time. “The first apartment we had when we moved here was like that. The landlord didn’t even let my mom change the curtains even though the ones that came with the place had stains all over it.” Jeongguk grimaces at the thought. “But Mrs. Jeong from our Busan apartment was so nice.”

What a sweet woman. She would often come down whenever she heard one of them had a cold or if there was a birthday and she was never harsh when your mother’s checks bounced or if she needed an extra day because she hadn’t gotten paid yet. She was the reason you thought all landlords had some semblance of empathy but no.

“We lived there for about fifteen years. It sucked having to leave.”

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you moved out!” You gasp, shifting yourself to face him completely. “Is your current place closer to the bakery?”

“No, it’s actually farther but it’s closer to the center of Busan so public transport is good. Plus, noona got a car so it’s not too bad.”

You sigh. Fuck, you miss Busan so much. Even hearing the slight satoori in Jeongguk’s voice does wonders for your nostalgia as yours only peeks out when you’re angry thanks to teasing from all of the Seoul elitists.

The beach, the food, the fresh air, the streets, you miss all of it. Such a simple time. You’ve always dreamed of settling there once you’ve figured your life out. It was your end goal.

“I wanna hear more but let’s get physics out of the way first,” you tap your notebook twice and Jeongguk moves to his backpack to take some items out to start the tutoring session.

And, to no one’s shock, Jeongguk is actually a really great tutor.

He’s patient with you and doesn’t mind giving you constant encouragement when you get a bit insecure halfway through a word problem. On concepts you’re unsure about, Jeongguk explains them in the simplest way possible without getting haughty. No outbursts if you make the same mistake two times in a row, he never once calls you stupid or says you’re wasting his time. Jeongguk gently coaches you until you try to solve some problems on your own from the textbook without his help and he checks them afterwards, telling you what you did right and wrong.

Quite literally, this is all that you wanted.

Someone to answer your questions, explain a few concepts, and walk you through a couple of examples without questioning your smarts as a whole.

It’s nice. You feel safe and even better, you feel actually prepared for the quiz which is the opposite of how you felt this morning. You aren’t even worried about it at all.

After clearing through the sample quiz and practice problems easily in a matter of about 2 ½ hours, you two are all done tutoring. Which means freedom for the rest of the night.

Quickly, you connect your laptop to the small TV mounted on the wall and put on Love Island since neither of you have watched it. Jeongguk is rather curious about it since Jimin and Taehyung won’t stop talking about it, so you decide to jump into the newest season with him while leaning against your bed and pulling up the menu for the fried chicken place.

“I’m getting honey garlic,” you tell him when you hand him your phone.

“Then, I’ll do the spicy cheese one.” He leans closer instead of taking the device and you really wish he didn’t because your body reacts to the proximity with goosebumps erupting all over you like you’re a teenager again.

Your eyes flick up to his side profile, which is literally perfect. His jaw is strong, well cut, defined and his skin is the color of fresh milk tea. You can see little imperfections on his skin like old acne scars, the slightly chapped surface of his lips, and all of his shiny earrings. You love the way he looks and how Jeongguk has grown into his features. The urge to trace his jawline with your tongue is insane, almost caustic inside of you. It’s impossible to push down. You sort of dressed up for this tutoring date, throwing on a pair of your favorite panties, lathering yourself in the softest lotion; you took all of the right steps and you’re hungry for a certain ending even though there’s a high chance it won’t happen at all. The horny side of you is begging for you to shoot your shot.

But you stop. Not yet. Not right now.

While Jeongguk picks out drinks, appetizers and the dessert he wants, you rush to the bathroom for a second. In the mirror, you take notice of your reddened cheeks and parted lips and the messy wisps of hair sticking out. You quickly tie it back into a loose braid and then splash some water on your face.

Reel it back, bitch.

While in the bathroom, you call out. “Hey Jeongguk? Could you get my wallet? It’s on top of my dresser, the one next to my closet.” Might as well pay now so you can get the chicken faster.

“Okay!” He responds.

The noise your stomach makes is loud and painful. The salad you had did nothing to satiate your cravings so the thought of chicken, perfectly fried to a crisp and covered in garlicky sweet sauce has you practically salivating. Especially since you’ve been eating so healthily as of late. It’s nice to treat yourself to some fast food.

Afterwards, you trudge back on over to the coffee table and plop down silently while Jeongguk puts in your card information. Meanwhile, you remember to feed Snowball for dinner and give her some much needed attention by bringing her to sit with the two of you so she can be pet and loved.

Jeongguk’s warmth emanates from his shoulder that is inches away from you while the Love Island intro song plays at the start of every new season. Half-heartedly, you watch the corny antics as each contestant introduces themselves with the main host speaking over and you think about how much internal anguish you’re feeling at the moment.

An object prods into your forearm. You look down to see the rounded edge of your credit card. “I paid,” Jeongguk tells you. You don’t respond verbally, taking the plastic and shoving it into the slot of your card wallet.

“Thanks,” you mumble. You bring your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them, hoping to get into the various shirtless tattooed guys on your television screen. It’s an easy task. Shows like Love Island don’t ask too much of you but you can get into it enough where other thoughts begin to fade.

You check your phone to see that the chicken should be delivered in about 10 minutes. Then you can have food and TV to reward you for all of your hard work.

The beginning is awkward as each person picks their couple purely based on looks and their name. You cringe when a guy comes in and no one steps up to match with him so he has to randomly choose a girl who was either too shy to step up to say she thinks he’s cute or not at all interested in him. It sounds like such an awkward place to be in and you’d hate to be on either side of the situation.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, isn’t a reality TV kind of guy. So he has a million questions and comments throughout the 57 minute episode.

“I don’t get it. They just shove 10 hot people in a house and they have to like each other?”

“Fuck, that’s how you’re supposed to say Leicester?”

“That one guy looks like such a fuck boy. Why would you ever get a chest tattoo of an eagle?”

“What happens if you don’t like anyone you match with? Can you just leave?” You shrug in response. This is your first time watching this show too. “I’d leave so fast if I was on this show. None of these people would interest me.”

“Me too,” you respond, playing with the frayed edge of an old receipt sticking out of one of the wallet pockets. “I’d get the ick so fast and then hop on the first plane back home.”

Jeongguk’s bantering turns the simple binge into something more. You start laughing, indulging his every whim, making fun of the guys trying too hard to flirt and seem suave and it’s really fun. You manage to barely remember the way you felt when you came out of the bathroom.

Is this how it should always be? Platonically hanging out?

Was it a good thing that you stopped yourself before your desires took over your logic?

You don’t know. You don’t want to either. You just want to sit back and enjoy the rest of this lovely day off.

After another few minutes of watching the show, you feel Jeongguk’s eyes on you. Wide, glittery, washing over every inch of your skin like he’s trying to commit your features to memory. You raise an eyebrow in question. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, just stares at you, and then he points to your phone screen where a notification from the delivery app shows.

The food is here.

Quickly, you go down, slipping some slides on your feet and shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater. The delivery person hands you the plastic bag with steaming boxes and you thank them before trundling back upstairs. The smell that wafts to you is mouth-wateringly delicious.

This. This is your treat after a grueling two weeks of school.

You bring it up for you and Jeongguk to dig into. The chicken is fresh and delicious and in combination with Jeongguk’s commentary, you start to really enjoy yourself. Especially as all your sex related thoughts begin to push to the back of your brain and the night gets more fun yet relaxing. The food is good and the drinks are refreshing.

Afterwards, you crack open a bag of kit kats to share with him to cap off the meal with something sweet since none of the desserts at the restaurant sounded appealing to either of you.

Love Island is addictive. Your friends were right about it. Two episodes later and the two of you are curious about who is the new islander coming and how they are going to shake things up.

The TV is on the wall mounted across your bed and coffee table. For the sake of your backs, you move Jeongguk to the bed and take some pillows to lean against so your backs aren’t completely sore by the next morning.

Although, you do wish your back was sore for another reason but let’s not get into that just yet.

Since you don’t have a lot of pillows, you share your main one, meaning you’re a lot closer to Jeongguk than you originally planned. To the point where your arms are pressed against each other and your legs are brushing. It makes you nervous to be this close. His perfume is a strong elixir, heady and comforting, pushing you to lean in and bury your face into the delectable skin of his neck. Even his neck, wow. The skin is so smooth, there’s a mole right in the middle of it. You want to sink your teeth into the flesh and use your lips and tongue to paint it all sorts of beautiful colors.

Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You get nervous with Jeongguk sitting so close to you, hands itching to do something. First they play around with the single star pendant on your necklace, then at a loose thread on your comforter, and then you decide to redo your hair.

The braid has become a straggly mess with you leaned against things so you pull your hair tie off and begin to undo your braid. At the very least, it is something for your hands to do, keep them occupied and away.

From Jeongguk that is. You don’t want to obstruct his view or break his attention.

Pushing off from the pillow, suddenly something happens on screen that makes your head turn abruptly to see who said what and your hair wacks Jeongguk right in the eye.

“Shit,” he hisses, clutching his face, curling inwards.

You begin to panic, turning in on your knees to get closer to him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was trying to tie my hair and then something happened on screen so I–” you stop midway, no need for an explanation. Instead, check to see if your hair scratches him in the cornea or not.

Jeongguk’s legs, that were once crossed, are now spread wide without your body taking up the space next to him on your bed. Without a second thought, you cross over the one closest to you and end up in between his two long legs. One hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to search his gaze but Jeongguk’s eyes are turned down. “Jeongguk?”

Muffled, he speaks up. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Jeongguk drops his hands onto his thighs before blinking a few times and you see a telltale tear pool from his big doe eyes, dripping down the slope of his cheek.

A huge wave of guilt crashes inside of you.

You made Jeongguk cry.

Not intentionally but still. He’s crying.

“Aw,” you cup his cheeks, searching his irises for anything like you’re a licensed ophthalmologist or something, wiping the stray tear with your thumb.“I’m really sorry. Do you need eye drops or anything?” You sit down on your feet, leaning closer to see him. “I can go check in my medicine box if I have any left from Spring.”

He doesn’t respond.

Jeongguk freezes immediately with you between his legs. As if all of his blood stops flowing through his veins and he’s turned to stone by Medusa. He glances at every corner of your face, at the strands of hair framing it, like he’s never seen you before. His jaw unhinges and the tip of his pink tongue is just barely visible.

You don’t even notice how close you get. So worried about the possibility of your hair scratching his cornea that you forget that your knees are brushing against his crotch. Nor do you think about how your face is near, you’re literally staring down like you’re about to kiss him despite dreaming about being in this position all day.

The only thing echoing in your mind is: Is Jeongguk okay?

Not another thought.

“I–” he stops, lips parted, “I’m okay, really.”

Jeongguk’s palm gently pushes your hands off of his cheeks and he shifts in his spot.

He’s practically shielding himself for you. His legs are pushed up to his chest now. Jeongguk looks like an animal that’s getting scolded for spilling food everywhere and you cannot understand why on earth he’d be making a face like that.

“Is something wrong?” You ask. Jeongguk covers his face but you can see his ears starting to turn red.

You inch closer to him and gently wrap your fingers around his wrist. You’re so close you can smell the gentle perfume he’s sprayed on his neck and the inviting scent of his hair serum. But he’s wriggling around like a fish out of water and it’s scaring you.

His hands move down, ripping his wrist out of your grip to cover up his crotch and you see a glimpse of the obvious bulge poking from his sweatpants.

Oh.

You recoil, muscles tightening as your brain moves a mile a minute. Something Jeongguk must sense from you because he starts explaining way faster than you thought he would.

“I’m sorry! This is–I can leave if you’d like–”

“It’s okay, Jeongguk,” you mumble. Your voice is soft.

It’s okay. It’s more than okay.

It’s better than okay.

Jeongguk continues to panic, deaf to your obvious nonchalance about him popping a boner right after you almost blinded him. “I don’t–It just sort of happened-and-and I wasn’t like–thinking a-about you or doing anything–it just,” he pauses midway, sighs to catch his breath, stops nervously stuttering, and then turns to get up which makes you a little nervous. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get rid of it–”

In a flash, your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him from moving.

“It’s okay,” you repeat. “I’m not grossed out.” Literally, you are the complete opposite of that but barely you mull it over one last time before speaking up again. “I could fix it, if you’d like.” Just before your conscience could stop you.

This is it. This is your chance to have him. Just once, satiate that need, and then you can go back to normal.

The universe practically handed you this opportunity on a golden platter so you should take it. Given that Jeongguk is down too.

His eyes go adorably wide. “W-what?” Jeongguk stutters.

“I could help you deal with it.” You say once more.

At least your voice is clear and sure. On the inside, you’re just a giant piece of adrenaline.

Jeongguk relaxes some more, gulping, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. His shoulders broaden like he’s trying to seem confident but you can tell that he’s nervous as fuck too.

“Why would you do that?”

Oh, you pretty thing. You have no idea, do you?

“I don’t mind,” you shrug. Feeling bold, the hand that rests on his shoulder squeezes the mass indulgently and Jeongguk feels exquisite. You want to rip all of these clothes off of his body. “You helped me with physics so,” trailing off, as if it’s the only logical solution to this problem.

To you, it feels like it is. Trade an A on a quiz for an orgasm.

Plus, you finally get to rid yourself of this intense sexual tension building inside of you. A combination of your hormones and your loneliness all cooked up to make a touch-starved mess at the tiniest thing. Being with Jeongguk could be just what you need to get your focus back on yourself. He’s gorgeous, inside and out, so there’s no intense guilt to bubble from letting some douchebag grow an even bigger ego by sleeping with you.

Jeongguk is still apprehensive. “You… you know you don’t-like-owe it to me to fix this, right? Just because I got hard doesn’t mean it’s your job to do something for me.”

You’re taken aback.

Most guys wouldn’t have even protested. Your mouth would be on his dick and the minute they come, you’d be all alone. They’re the types to view sex in a very individualistic manner.

A dopey smile makes its way to your lips. “I know. This isn’t a really transactional thing.” You cup his cheek with one hand this time and trace the deep scar there absentmindedly. “I actually want to do this.”

If Jeongguk were to hear the insane things your brain produces, you wonder if he’d run for the hills or be flattered. Definitely the former.

“Okay but um,” he avoids your eyes, looking off to the side and you sort of love Jeongguk like this. It’s so different from his nonchalant easygoing behavior. “I’ve never,” he searches for the words, changes his mind halfway through, and finds another path. “No one has ever like-oh god this is embarrassing–”

You decide to save him. “No one’s ever given you a blowjob?”

He nods behind his hands that rose to cover his reddening face during his reveal. God, he’s adorable.

“Really?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re hot.” You say truthfully. His change of expression does wonders for your confidence. So much so that you decide to bite the bullet and run a hand through his hair affectionately. “How far have you gone?”

The strands are silky smooth, flowing through your fingers like water, and Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation as he mumbles out a response.

“I kissed someone but only a few times. I got dragged to a high school party and played spin the bottle but nothing more than that.”

This is new for you. Almost every guy you’ve ever been with is experienced or way more experienced than you. From the guy in high school who took your virginity all the way to Wooshik. And they varied from vanilla guys to those who are super into the dom/sub spiel. You’ve never been the experienced one and it feels different.

Like you’re corrupting him, forcibly taking away something precious. Like Mrs. Robinson on the prowl for someone younger whom she can use to her advantage.

And even though that isn’t the case with you and Jeongguk, you want this to be different than your first time. If anything, you want him to feel safe and wanted and to let him know that, at any point, if he wants to stop then it will stop. Just like there’s no obligation for you to make him feel good, there is no obligation for him to return the favor.

“Then let’s start with that and then we can move on if you’re comfortable. Or we don’t have to do anything and we can just forget about it. Whatever you want.”

You won’t do anything unless he wants you to. As much as you want to touch him, as much as you need sex, you’re totally fine with taking things at his pace.

And if he rejects this entire thing and opts to fix his situation in the bathroom, that’s okay too.

Jeongguk presses the back of his head against the wall in thought, giving you an amazing view of his jawline, until he shyly speaks. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You want to be sure, hiding the fact that you are utterly elated on the inside. Jeongguk just turns more red as he avoids your eyes peering into him.

“You–we can start. I-if that’s what you want.”

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want to.”

Before he can question you, you lean down and gently connect your lips with his.

There’s a moment where it feels foreign, where your body becomes covered with goosebumps at the sheer adrenaline coursing through you and the way your brain freaks out at the change. This is happening, you’re finally doing this, but you take a second to just press and feel. Be in the moment and stop trying to control everything, then you’re fine.

It’s easy because Jeongguk’s lips are pillowy soft.

Starting off with a quick peck, you split for a second, nose brushing, and then you kiss Jeongguk again. This time it’s much stronger. Any lack of confidence melts when your lips move languidly against Jeongguk. He’s responsive to your every movement, feeling the inside of your mouth with his own, while his hands rest appropriately on your hips. His lip balm is rose flavored and delectable. Jeongguk is a good kisser.

The noises fill the quiet apartment as you move closer and cup his jaw on one side while your other hand goes back to his silky soft hair to move your lips cohesively. You adjust yourself so that instead of kneeling between his legs, you’re straddling his thick muscular thighs and they feel exquisite against you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips.

Jeongguk must feel your exhale, gaining some bravado to take the lead when he kisses you, setting the pace as his own hands begin to move from their comfortable spot on your hips. Part of you really wants to push them down to your ass to feel those big sexy hands grab a handful but you want to wait to see what he does.

He kisses you a little wet but wanton, igniting a deep burning flame inside of you. It’s bright, hot, and you can’t pull yourself away from him the more your lips collide, suckle, and slot.

Jeongguk’s hands begin tracing up your back with a feather-light touch, and your lips part at the feeling when he unexpectedly inches his tongue into your mouth.

Looks like he wasn’t lying when he said he’s kissed before.

Crackles of pleasure bubble in you. Kissing can turn you on, if the guy is good at what he does, and Jeongguk is doing just that. That throbbing sensation takes over and you find yourself clenching around nothing, dreaming of having something just fill you just how you like. His tongue tangles with yours. The kiss starts to get much sloppier, something you didn’t realize you were craving until now, and you rise up on your knees while gently tugging on his hair in a flash of atypical roughness on your end.

Your mind refuses to process that this is Jihyo’s little brother who is kissing you silly. Right now, he’s Jeongguk.

Jeongguk with the gorgeous eyes and the gorgeous body who got hard the moment you inched closer.

You decide to grind down on him, especially when the curve of his bulge becomes more prominent against your ass, and Jeongguk muffles a noise into your mouth. The fabric of your underwear drags across your neglected clit, pulling another sigh out of you. It’s a small jolt of pleasure and you can feel yourself dampen even more. From the action and from the way Jeongguk sounds.

Another moan comes from Jeongguk when you grind against him again and again, whiny yet soft. It’s doing something to you. His hands squeeze your hips and then one drifts to the back of your thigh.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you press your forehead against his. There’s a thin layer of sweat building on your skin but your arms loop comfortably around Jeongguk’s neck, tugging his body forwards. His eyes glimmer at you, with kiss-bruised lips and the beginnings of his pearly white bunny teeth peeking out from between. You resist the urge to dive down again, instead wanting to appreciate the absolute view you have right now.

Your fingers tangle in a lock of his soft black hair. “You’re so gorgeous,” you whisper, taking in his forehead, his jawline, his perfect nose, and every single one of his moles.

Jeongguk, who is already blushed and heavily breathing, gets even more shy at your compliment, looking away from you to avoid your teasing smile. Which just makes you want to shower him in more praise just to see how embarrassed he can get.

“So pretty, so handsome,” your finger traces his jaw before going down to his unblemished neck where the skin looks so soft but the area is taut and beautiful. You want to see how he’d look with hickeys. “I want to mark you,” you point to the middle of the right side of his neck, “right here.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise to his hairlines. “You want to give me a hickey?” He says incredulously. You nod.

“I want you to remember this.”

Usually, you aren’t the possessive type but you think about Juri, walking through campus and finding Jeongguk, someone that she’s expressed interest in, like this. Covered in marks you left, reeling after the pleasure you gave him. You know the chance is unlikely and if Jeongguk were to run into her, you doubt he’d tell her any bit of what you two had done but it’s the principle of it all.

That she can be a misogynistic pick-me/not-like-the-other girl all she wants, you still pull better than she ever will.

Maybe then, she’ll keep your name out of her damn mouth.

Jeongguk exhales quietly, holding some weight. “Do you actually think I’ll forget this?”

You smirk. “Dunno, but I can’t let a pretty little thing like you get away, can I? Especially with all of those other girls who love to stare.”

It happens often whenever you two would be walking from class or on public transport and people would stare at Jeongguk. Not that you’d blame them. With a face like that, Jeongguk could debut as an idol and win the hearts of millions, he could act or model even, but then you become more aware of the fact that someone even better could scoop him up at any time and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

“I won’t,” he starts, shaking his head with eyes so honest and truthful that you almost collapse in his hold. “I won’t go away and I won’t forget, okay?” Jeongguk pleads with you, holding your body still with two exact hands on your hips.

You swear your stomach feels a group of butterflies flapping about, along with unicorns and rainbows and glitter and all of that silly shit when Jeongguk says that. The hand in his hair cups his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone.

“You won’t?”

“Never,” Jeongguk presses firmly. “And,” he hesitates for a moment, “and I’m not looking at anyone else right now, either. There’s just you.”

There’s just you.

The sentence sounds like a confession. Like he’s being honest while you were just being horny and possessive. You feel your act drop, whatever front you were putting up, it drops, and you don’t know what to say at first.

The truth? You aren’t thinking about anyone else either. You don’t want to. You want Jeongguk. There’s only Jeongguk right now.

Had this been with any other person, you wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest with them. You wouldn’t trust them not to use that against you but you know Jeongguk and you trust Jeongguk more than anything.

“I… I’m not looking at anyone either,” you manage to mumble out. Now you’re the one who is all red and shy.

And watching Jeongguk’s expression change when you said that… priceless.

He stares at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky, that you push the sun up in the sky every morning, like the dew droplets on the blades of grass, like it was just you.

It’s perfect yet so much at the same time. You want to say more but you don’t know what else you could say so you meet his gaze, then dip down to his lips, and he nods so you lean in to kiss him again.

He makes a noise of surprise, immediately licking fiercely into your mouth to meet the movements of your lips. Slowly, Jeongguk pulls away from the wall and begins moving down to lay against the bed, holding himself up with a forearm on the soft material and strengthening his hold on you so you wouldn’t slip off from him.

You feel Jeongguk grin against your lips at your eagerness but he maintains the energy. Arching your back a little, mostly for show, you reach back and push one of Jeongguk’s hands further down to your ass. He’s been so careful and gentle with you so far and, as nice as it is, you want more. His eyebrows furrow against you, curling his palm over the tangible curve before giving your ass a tentative squeeze and pulling a muffled moan from you.

So Jeongguk does it again. Does it with more vigor, digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheek and grinding his hips upwards. Gets you throbbing insufferably and so wet.

“Jeongguk,” you gasp into his mouth, meeting the movement of his hips with your own. The bulge in his pants becomes really prominent as you break the kiss, moving down his strong jawline to his perfect neck.

Whatever perfume he uses, the smell is strong now, filling your olfactory senses with sweet powdery softness. Your lips search for that spot you ache to mark, digging your teeth into the gentle flesh and soothing the area over with your tongue.

The noise he makes…

Jeongguk whimpered when you were sucking and biting on his skin.

It took so much willpower for you to not rip his damn top off when that sound reached your ears. You were so wet and throbbing in your pants, desperate for some form of touch besides your soaked underwear against your clit. If you could, you’d cover his entire body with hickeys, paint his neck all sorts of beautiful colors if it were socially acceptable for someone to be walking around like that and not have everyone’s immediate thought be that he got jumped or something.

But you practice restraint and suck on the hot skin, kissing, and doing your best to keep yourself under control even if your wetness was starting to become bothersome. Jeongguk’s hands on your ass don’t help with that either.

The hold helps you feel the shape of his fingers which are pretty long and thick. You’ve seen them writing, typing, gripping onto the pole in the subway so the veins and tendons pop out and you’ve reached a conclusion that you need to feel them inside of you. Pumping deep and slow. Since the digits are longer than yours, they would reach that damned spot inside, turn you into a shaking, coming, mess. You crave that.

Even before Wooshik, these dry spells weren’t uncommon. You know that it’s just your monthly horror revving up the hormones that’s making you want some dick like water in a desert but still.

A girl has her needs. Especially when said girl is constantly hanging around a hot guy.

Once you pull away from his neck after creating a total of three hickeys, you sit up. All of the kissing and petting and grinding has made you all sweaty so you quickly pull off your quarter-zip hoodie, leaving the plain t-shirt you have on underneath with no bra.

Jeongguk’s eyes fall to the way your breasts lift and fall with the movement, jiggling into place as you throw the piece of clothing somewhere. The change in temperature has your nipples straining against the thin material and you can tell his attention has shifted.

With a cocked brow, you smirk. “Want my shirt off?” You ask, slowly twisting the hem around a single finger.

“Yeah.”

His hands give your ass another appreciative squeeze. One that nearly has you dropping the control but you rebuild quickly.

“Take this off then.” You place a hand down on the base of his stomach. Jeongguk’s shirt is thin so you can feel his stomach through the fabric. You need it off asap.

Jeongguk’s lips part. You think he’s going to deny at first. Maybe he isn’t comfortable showing you his body yet. That’s okay; you don’t mind. Whatever he’s comfortable with, right?

But in a split second, he grips the gray fabric and sits up slightly to peel it off of his body and gives you a view of what he has underneath.

Which is just exquisite.

Jeongguk treats his body like it’s a work of art. When he isn’t gaming or studying, he’s in the gym and he has one of the strictest meal plans you ever see. Allowing himself one cheat meal out of the week and then sticking to his rice, steamed veggie and lean meats for the rest of the days. And that dedication shows in the way his body looks.

While still being thin and put together, his stomach is defined with steel-cut abs and his obliques are enviable along with sturdy shoulders, firm chest and deliciously bulky arms.

You’ve never really cared about the body of whoever you were sleeping with. Muscles are nice and hot but they aren’t a necessity. Honestly, having a handsome/pretty face can get a guy farther than a six pack but now you might be changing your mind on that stance. Because Jeongguk has a pretty face and a six pack.

Or is that a twelve pack? You didn’t really count.

A single finger starts at Jeongguk’s sternum, tracing down his body to the waistband of his sweats, taking your time to appreciate every patch of skin and flesh. You inch backwards so you are sitting more on his thighs than his lap where his bulge is firmly straining against his pants. Looking all inviting. Your thighs clench together to relieve yourself from the lack of attention.

But before you can wrap your hands around him, Jeongguk’s fingers close around your wrist to stop you.

“You said if I took my shirt off, you would too,” he reminds you. His tone is low, barely teetering into a domineering one. Brings a rush of arousal to your pussy and you immediately bite the inside of your cheek.

Jeongguk ordering you around is… really hot.

“Eager.”

The plain t-shirt is rather unflattering on the outside so you do away with it quickly, feeling the mass of your breasts lift and bounce back down while adjusting to the temperature change. Your nipples are hard and goosebumps cover your upper body.

But that’s mainly caused by the way Jeongguk’s eyes practically ravish you.

You wonder if he’s more of an ass guy or a boob guy. Because his grip has stayed on the plump curve of your backside but his tongue swipes over his bottom lip while staring at your tits like he’s at the Louvre and he has two seconds to take a glance at the Mona Lisa.

There’s a sense of vulnerability to have him look at you like this. Like you’re something perfect when all everyone else, including yourself, does is point out your faults.

It’s too much. You need to make a move, get his eyes off of you, so your hand goes back to the waistline of his pants where his boxer band flashes quickly. Calvin Klein, black in color to match the color of his sweatpants.

“Can I?” You ask, looking down at the heavy print showing through the material and your mouth waters.

Jeongguk nods immediately. “Please.”

Carefully, you peel back the first layer of clothing. The tight elastic pressure around his waist is enough to slowly peel back Jeongguk’s boxers, exposing the beginning of his ilium but then he raises his hips some more until his sweatpants are pushed a little past the beginning of his quad muscles. You desperately want to see the sinew on his legs because you’ve been feeling them flex and move against you this entire time and they are just to your expectations. His skin is soft, a little tanned, thin hairs barely visible on his thighs from the hallowed light.

“What do you want? My hand or my mouth?”

You said a blowjob but whatever he wants, you will do.

His eyes darken with lust. “Y-your hand, first,” Jeongguk stutters, shaking some hair off his sweaty forehead. You try not to smile excitedly at the word first.

“Okay.”

After pressing one more kiss on his perfect nose, your palm cups his bulge. Against the material, you can see somewhat of a defined shape. It’s thick, impressive looking, and your wetness is soaking through your pants, effectively ruining the pair but that’s the least of your concerns. You fight the urge to grind into something, relieve some of the throbbing pressure from your core, clenching around nothing in hopes that it will fix.

Jeongguk says your name carefully, checking to see if you’re still okay with continuing and your attention is back on him. You give him a wry smile in response and then work on slowly tugging his boxers off of his hips to free his cock.

You gasp when his length slaps against his bare stomach, incapable of holding it in.

He’s big and thick; bigger and thicker than any guy you’ve ever been with. Jeongguk’s dick is pretty. Two veins trailing up the sides and pulsating with blood, the tip peeking with a small droplet of pearly white pre-cum.

“Fuck,” you curse, reaching a hand forward to barely wrap around him. Your fingers manage to encompass the whole circumference but you can only accredit that to your long digits. Otherwise he would be too girthy.

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut when you pump his length once. His jawline strains sexily as little puffs of air escape his lips. He looks so good when he’s pleased. As if he was made to only look like that. The emotion sits perfectly on his pretty features.

A bead of pearly white fluid seeps from the stop, collecting slightly over the flesh-toned head. You lick your lips. “I don’t think you’ll fit in my mouth.”

“W-what?” He stammers.

“You’re too big, baby,” you purr, panicking momentarily about the pet name. “Shit,” swearing under your breath when you feel him twitch. Then, you let a fat drop of spit fall from your mouth and onto the head to aid your hand gliding up and down. “My throat will definitely be sore tomorrow.”

Not that you’re complaining.

The boy beneath you flushes. “I–” his breathing quickening when your hand works over him expertly, barely a moan. “You–um–you don’t have to,” Jeongguk offers.

You coo, reaching forward to boop Jeongguk’s cute little nose with your free hand, still slowly jerking his cock with the other, giving the fat length a nice squeeze at the base. “But I want to,” forcing a pout and watching his gaze turn heady with euphoria. “Don’t you want me to use my mouth? To suck you off nice and properly?”

This is new for you. You are usually rather submissive in bed and you’ve always liked it that way. If anything, you sought after guys who were more dominant because it was an immediate turn-on for you but now that you’ve made Jeongguk all pliant and soft, you can’t stop. He just looks so perfect. His eyes clench shut, creases appearing at the sides when your hands squeeze his length teasingly on the upstroke, legs going more rigid.

Jeongguk doesn’t respond at first so you lean down, holding yourself up with one hand splayed on the mattress, right next to his head, and increase the pace of your hand. You pay special attention to the tip and the spot right under where he’s sensitive, rubbing a thumb over the area to collect more precum on the way down his cock. Jeongguk sputters out a soft noise, gritting his teeth tightly.

“You have to tell me what you want, Jeongguk,” you muse. The tips of your noses graze, your breasts meeting his hot skin. Jeongguk’s hands, which switched to curling into the fabric of your duvet, go to your thighs to squeeze them. At that point, you decide to only stimulate the head of his cock with the pad of your thumb, rubbing teasingly tight circles while Jeongguk leaks all over, rivulets of creamy white decorating his length. “My hands? Or my mouth? What do you want me to do?”

Jeongguk goes crazy. His back arches off the mattress along with a high whine emitting from his swollen lips. He looks so overwhelmed with red cheeks and his hands gripping onto your body like it’s a lifeline.

“Y-your mouth! I want your mouth, please,” he whines once more, digging his nails into your thighs, surely leaving indents. You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before descending down his taut body.

Jeongguk is a work of art after all and you need time to appreciate him.

Your hands stop their tortuous movement, leaving Jeongguk’s cock to hold yourself up while inching down. You kiss down the right side of his neck. The skin is salty from sweat but you don’t mind. You kiss all the marks you left, the mole on his chest, the beginning of his abs (you pay special attention to this area), licking up a stripe to feel the ridges of his body before you end up on your knees in between his legs.

While you were kissing him, Jeongguk kicked his sweatpants off his legs, allowing you to capture a full glimpse of his meaty thighs. His skin is flawless and soft looking and you bookmark the thought of leaving red lines atop his thighs while riding him like a fucking stallion for later.

His length deliciously twitches again from the brief lack of touch. You eye it for a split second, mouth watering, before taking the head between your lips. He throws his head back in satisfaction.

Jeongguk tastes good. A mix of skin, salt, but he isn’t bitter; soft, pliable skin meets the plush membrane in your mouth. You moan out while your tongue circles the head, awarding you with a fresh spurt of pre-cum.

Giving head isn’t everyone’s favorite (totally understandable) but it’s definitely yours. You don’t know why, maybe you have an oral fixation that you don’t know about, but it always makes you wet and desperate for more. Especially when the guy you’re blowing has hot moans like Jeongguk does.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, while your tongue moves over him. He wraps a hand around the back of your hair gently, barely pushing you down to take more of him into your mouth.

Ideally, you’d punish Jeongguk for that. If you were continuing this dominatrix stint you have going on then he shouldn’t be pushing you and trying to choke you but you drop the whole act.

Because he feels so good.

Your wetness is trickling down the swell of your ass as more of your mouth stretches to accommodate his length. The back of his head is about to reach the back of your throat when you wrap a hand around to pump what you can’t reach. It’ll be impossible to take him all in one go. You need to warm up first. Fat rivulets of spit trail down to his base and collect there to ease your ministrations.

“So good,” Jeongguk praises, tangling his fingers in your hair while the wet sucking noises filter through your apartment. “You’re s-so good at this.”

Jeongguk’s low voice isn’t helping you. Another pathetically whiny noise is muffled by his big dick going back into your mouth, swallowing around the tip as you take a little more than before.

Swirling your mouth, using the inside of your cheek, the side of your tongue and the puckered membrane of your lips in conjunction with your nimble hands, jacking his thick cock and feeling the skin get hotter, wetter, with every second that passes by.

He’s probably big enough to make you squirt. Though, you are the type to squirt easily, but guys around his size tend to hit the g-spot head on, to turn you into a shaking, coming, moaning mess in their arms. The thought really gets you going, imagining yourself sinking down on him like a Queen perched on her throne and spilling all over his thighs with a loud noise.

Would he like it? Would he want to see you do it again?

Fuck, you need a little bit of friction here. The combination of sucking him off, Jeongguk’s breathy whiny noises, and the deranged thoughts in your brain make your pussy so needy, demanding attention.

You think about reaching back and rubbing yourself, just for a second, but your brain is too transfixed on Jeongguk.

“P-please don’t stop-p,” he begs, “Please–Ah, yes.” Sounding like he’s about to cry.

Your wrist flicks up during your motions while you pay special attention to the head. Jeongguk twitches some more and judging by how hard he grips your hair, he must be close.

So you make sure your tongue stimulates all of the areas that make Jeongguk quiver in your hold. Your back arches, suckling at the skin.

“Can I,” he interrupts himself with a moan, hands shaking, “Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks politely.

You pull off with a breathy sigh, moving your hand to respond. “Please.” You want to taste more of him, until he’s filling your throat up completely.

Sinking back down, you take in as much of him as you can, deep-throating his cock to the best of your abilities. It’s wet, the noises are filthy, salacious, but you don’t really care that much. Jeongguk’s cock twitches again as he spurts into your mouth, awarding you with his release as he whines throughout.

And like a good girl, you swallow every last drop, refusing to let even a tiny drop of it go to waste.

Jeongguk pants. His fingers slip out of your ratty hair and his hand slap over his forehead while he collects himself. His thighs shake with the aftershocks of his orgasm, sweat collected at the enticing dip of his collarbones, making his skin look like it’s speckled with diamonds. While you sit up slowly and wipe the back of your mouth, tucking his slowly softening length back into his boxers with a soft pat.

For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything to you. All Jeongguk does is try to catch his breath, probably slow his heart rate a bit.

In that short period of time, your brain speeds at 100 miles per second. Did Jeongguk like it? Did Jeongguk hate it? Will he let you do it again? Oh my god, do you want to do it again and again and again. Is he uncomfortable around you now? What next?

Your thighs are folded under you, watching Jeongguk’s stomach tense and flex as he leans on his elbows to look at you.

His lips are adorable pouty and the hickeys look really pretty on his skin. You want so much more from him but you’re too afraid to vocalize it. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want to wake up and force this memory out of your brain. Jeongguk is so pretty and perfect and so easy to want.

“C’mere,” he says softly, exhaling quickly with a stupid grin. Unsure if he meant his lap or right next to him, you shuffle closer until Jeongguk pats the space next to his body and you move accordingly. Hands an knees on the bed like a slinking cat.

The air, which was once zinging with tension, has simmered down a little. Jeongguk’s arm stretches out for you to lean your head on his bicep. Up close, his eyes sparkle more than the stars in the night sky as Jeongguk pushes all of the loose strands of hair out of your sweaty face.

“You were really good,” he repeats. “Thank you for that.”

It feels weird to be thanked for sucking dick so you shake your head. “No need to thank me.” And because it doesn’t hurt to be truthful, you open your mouth once more. “I really wanted to.”

Jeongguk’s expression warms; his smile gets wider and his cheeks get rounder. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, dancing over your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory again.

“So can I return the favor?”

Your heart leaps to your throat. You were sure Jeongguk was under the impression that this was a simple blowie, the end. Nothing else and nothing more. Even though you wanted more, you were ready to leave this romp at that but he proves you wrong once again.

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to?”

Most guys don’t. Most guys give up the second they cum without even offering.

But Jeongguk fucking smirks when he noticed your shocked expression. “I really want to,” he copies you.

Fuck, you think. You put on a nice pair of underwear thinking that this would happen and then the entire tutoring session you were gaslighting yourself into thinking that nothing would ever happen and now here you are.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you want this. Your panties are soaked and your core is aching to be touched. You need it so bad that you might never forgive yourself for turning this down.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Jeongguk repeats.

“Touch me. Please Jeongguk,” you plead with him, placing a soft hand on his warm chest. The breath is just about to escape you when he leans in to kiss you with his supple lips.

You almost cringe. You must taste like him and you’re sure that there’s still some moisture collected in the corner of your mouth but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He licks hotly into your mouth, taking control during the kiss which surprises you completely.

Gone is the shy whimpering boy who begged you not to stop. Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze your hips then pull one of your legs over his thighs so that you get even closer to him and your center is more exposed. That same hand travels upwards to your tits and cups the mass, and it’s your turn to shake in his hold.

He’s starting off perfectly, like he knows what moves drive you crazy just by looking at you.

You sigh softly when your lips break and he begins kissing down your neck. Unlike you, Jeongguk doesn’t leave any marks. Instead, he’s strategic about creating a clean line from your mouth, smooching along your jaw, then the side of your neck, to the middle of your collarbones before meeting your boobs. Jeongguk hauls you up the bed a little so he’s facing your chest instead, bringing your body closer with a splayed hand on your back.

“Jeongguk,” you try, unsure as to why you’re calling him out. Jeongguk pays you no attention, transfixed by your naked breasts. He expels something inaudible under his breath and then takes one of your nipples into his mouth while tweaking the other, causing your body to go rigid.

His lips wrap around the bud, sucking and circling his tongue over it while his other hand tweaks and pulls at the other. Like his tongue, his finger moves in time to turn you into a pile of mush. You grind onto nothing, wishing it was his thigh instead because you need friction from how wet and needy you’ve become in the span of like 20 minutes.

Moaning out at the feeling of him slowly stimulating you, Jeongguk switches to the other one until your nipples are left shiny, wet, and puffy from his lips and tongue.

He picks up fast, it seems. While kissing down your stomach, he asks you, “What do you want me to do?” Just like you did.

“Anything,” you respond. You don’t care what he does, you just want him to do something.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Gotta give me a real answer,” he pulls up a little closer to your face, cupping your swollen bottom lip thanks to all of his work. “Tell me.”

“I,” you start. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind anything from him. But you feel the length of his fingers, thick and perfect, and you remember your pressing desire of having them inside of you. “I want your fingers,” deciding on that.

He grins softly at how cute you become when you’re overwhelmed. Jeongguk doesn’t wait around any longer, fingers going to the waistline of your yoga pants and tugging them down slowly. They’re tight, sticking to you like a second skin, so they snag along the meat of your thighs. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind as the fabric bunches up into a little ring and you kick it off to a random spot on your floor.

Cold air meets your soaked underwear, making you cringe at the feeling, totally unaware of the way Jeongguk gapes at the flimsy little thing hugging your hips. He gently traces the band over your pelvis, almost like he’s hesitation.

You open your mouth, ready to check in to see if Jeongguk still wants to do this for you or not, but before you can, his fingers dip into your panties to feel just how wet you are from him.

His expression morphs beautifully. “You’re…” he’s speechless at first. Jeongguk’s finger trails up and down your center, barely grazing your sensitive clit.

A whimper escapes you. His touch is feather light and barely enough yet so much all at once.

“Fuck,” he groans, hiding his face into crook of your neck, soaking up all of your arousal while his ears and neck get bright red. You’d be embarrassed by the rushing gush coating you even more if Jeongguk’s thumb hadn’t stopped at your clit to draw tight, short, slow circles.

Such a gentle pace, way less intense than the bullet vibrator you’ve been using, and the pressure builds gradually. One of your hands wind in his hair and the other grips his bicep, openly feeling him up.

“Fucking soaked,” Jeongguk grits, moving his thumb a little faster.

Your eyes shut. “Oh J–” interrupted by a shaky noise spilling from your mouth. Jeongguk takes that as a good sign, deciding to torture you even further by moving his lips back to your stiffened nipples and using his tongue to suck and lick at them as if you aren’t already sensitive.

“You’re pretty too, noona,” Jeongguk says, looking at you this time. Slowly, your eyes peel open to find his big brown irises glimmering at you. “I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

You blush immediately. You don’t know why this feels so intensely intimate, like a pan that’s gotten too hot. Is it Jeongguk’s tone, the fact that he’s so close, the way he looks at you to make sure you know and understand him? What is it that has you so stupefied by such a simple comment?

Boys have called you pretty before, called you much worse too, but you should be used to it. Over the years you’ve started to develop a thick skin but this one gets to you.

That flutter of butterflies comes back, dancing from the tip of your toes all the way to your head. Jeongguk has seen you grow, from a kid to a pre-teen and now an adult.

And he still finds you beautiful. Even after every embarrassing phase.

You begin to smile, cupping his cheeks and leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips, then the corner of his lips, his cheek and his nose, because he deserves it and he’s cute.

“Thanks,” you mean it, even if the sweet moment cut all of the flourishing beginnings of an orgasm from you and Jeongguk’s fingers halted, out of your underwear and holding your hip instead.

Jeongguk mirrors your expression. Then he looks down at where his hand is and back up at you, nervously tonguing his cheek. “Can I move now?”

You nod your head yes quickly after he asks.

“And…” Jeongguk still looks awkward. You go back to cupping his soft cheeks. “Tell me if I’m doing okay?”

You want to melt in his grip. “Of course, Guk.” Thumb swiping over his cheekbone affectionately.

Jeongguk takes that as the greenlight and slips his fingers back into your underwear. His gaze is on you, studying your features when his thumb goes back to your clit while his middle finger teases around your opening. You clench, desperate for something to slip inside of you, lifting your hips up in hope that Jeongguk would take the hint and put his fingers inside but he continues collecting your arousal to get his digits wet enough.

“Jeongguk,” you call tightly, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders. He hums in response. “I need more.”

His thumb decides to go faster at your demand but not fast enough and his middle finger still traces your opening instead of slipping inside.

“More?” He repeats, lilting his voice teasingly.

Shithead.

“Yes, more.” You want to whine, kick your legs even.

He can feel how wet you’ve gotten, does he not know how much you want this?

“You want my fingers?”

“Yes,” you grumble but it sweetens at the end because his thumb starts moving faster over your clit and you feel the waves of pleasure swirling in your stomach, turning into a half-moan.

Jeongguk angles his hand a little differently and, gently, pushes his middle finger inside you. He groans at the feeling of you. “So tight,” breathing out against your skin.

You react immediately, throwing your head back. There’s a slight pinch but it's not even the slightest bit painful. The intrusion is welcomed; although small, you need it. Jeongguk’s finger is nice and long and he pistons it out of you with so much care while hitting just the spot.

“Fuck, right there,” you moan out, turning your face into the soft material of your sheets, eyes rolling back.

Jeongguk slips another finger in and he stops teasing your throbbing bundle of nerves to focus fully on moving his digits, curving them upwards to your walls as you release a symphony of noises. Finding that soft spongy part inside of you and massaging it.

“F-faster please, please, go faster,” begging him out of the fear that he’ll tease you just like he was doing before.

But Jeongguk plays fair and fingers you even faster, upping the ante even more by removing his free hand and pressing down on your lower stomach, right before your pelvis.

And you lose it.

The pressure from his hand on top, plus the way his fingers are moving, just becomes too much. The gradual pressure starts accelerating and accelerating until it drops like a rollercoaster and you feel a burst of tingling pleasure rush through your veins and all over your body.

“I’m cumming!” Crying out, tears pooling inside your eyes streaming down your cheeks as your legs shake with the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Different than when you do it. As good as your vibrator is, something about it has yet to make you orgasm like this. Heavy, powerful, almost numbing. Waves crash inside you, again and again, cresting at the peak and slowly simmering out into a soft current and then nothing at all.

Your breath comes out in heavy pants, limbs feeling like jelly, slowly opening your eyes to find Jeongguk staring back at you in bewilderment. His lips are parted but his cheeks aren’t red with embarrassment. If anything, he looks like the complete opposite of that.

Like he could watch you do that again and again. Something you would gladly agree with.

Jeongguk takes his fingers out from your underwear, glistening with your arousal, and before you can offer him a napkin, he slips his digits into his mouth and cleans them off. You really begin to question if this man is a virgin or secretly a sex god waiting to be discovered. He’s way better than you were when you were inexperienced. Does he watch a lot of porn?

Or do Taehyung and Jimin just talk about sex around him too much? Must be that.

“Mmh,” his fingers come out with a soft pop noise, “You taste amazing.” Jeongguk’s clean hand brushes some hair out of your face as he smiles. You lean into his touch like a purring kitten, curling into his chest because your entire body feels weak.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, closing his arms around you.

Nodding into his chest, “Yeah. Felt really good.” You want to say more but there’s no energy for you to do so.

“Did it? You looked really hot when,” trailing off, you know what he means, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Kinda want to see it again.”

That takes your attention.

Removing the fact that you haven’t been touched in a bit, two orgasms from Jeongguk might put your legs out of commission and that was just with his fingers. You can’t imagine what it would be like with more of him, especially as he learns more about how to pleasure you and gets better. Your poor vibrator might be out of a job.

“I would love to, but you definitely wore me out.” Pulling your face away, you look up at his perfectly crafted face. “Can we try that another time?”

Another time, you get giddy even before he agrees. After getting addicted to Jeongguk’s touch, you don’t want to entertain the idea of this being a one time thing.

“Of course.” And neither does he.

Jeongguk kisses the top of your head gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You tangle your legs with his, inhaling his scent and doing your best not to fall asleep.

It feels sticky and wet between your legs. You should change and you should get ready for bed. Jeongguk probably wants to go back to his house, right? He probably doesn’t want to stick around your place after what just happened.

But you think about it and that’s the farthest thing you want.

Being in his arms, you feel safe and protected, like you drifted off to another dimension where nothing bad has ever happened and you were still the girl you were when you left Busan. Happy and lively.

You don’t want him to leave you. You don’t want this to be another shitty hookup or one-time thing that makes both of you blush and walk-away. You just want Jeongguk to be in your life.

So you hold on tight, avoiding his eyes when you ask: “Do you want to stay here with me tonight?”

Please, please, you beg internally. You’ll make breakfast, there’s a pack of toothbrushes under your sink, anything. Just stay.

And thankfully, Jeongguk responds without wasting another second of your time, putting you at ease once again.

“Please.”

a/n: okay yes, that was a lot but more smut will come and more angst will follow!

taglist:

@iwuzhere

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #thereboundgirl #nerdjungkook #smut series #bts x reader #gamerjungkook #bts smut

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