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tonycries · 4 days

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AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.

Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-

The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father.

Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.

And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.

Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-

“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”

You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close?

You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was.

Oh.

At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”

You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you.

“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.

He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.

Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.

“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you.

“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”

You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.

“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting.

And oh was it interesting.

Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.

Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion.

All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.

So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second.

“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.

You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”

“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”

“Satoru.”

“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”

Ah, there it was.

It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?

“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”

“Hey!”

Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought.

It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were.

“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh.

After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.

Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-

Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often.

“Ah! Wha- Sato-”

You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart.

Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards.

Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-

“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach.

“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment.

Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”

And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son.

You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”

He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”

“Fucking yes.” There it was again.

But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”

“What do you-”

“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined.

Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”

A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”

And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop.

Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.

His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not.

Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner.

Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.

“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again.

But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you.

Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom.

“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat.

Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting.

You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?

Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.

It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”

Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have.

As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?

Turning to the mirror and-

Oh. Shit.

You better have brought your make-up remover.

God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.

Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.

With a groan, he leans against the shut door. Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?

Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily.

Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?

Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously.

Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins.

“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.”

And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”

Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing.

But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way.

“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”

He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.

What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.

“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-

And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.”

Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb.

“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.”

God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him.

Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full.

So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.

And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that.

“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”

“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”

And then he’s cumming.

A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-

You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again.

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed.

At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father.

But that was exactly the problem.

Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out.

And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself.

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right?

You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?

But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.

“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”

That wasn’t your sugar daddy.

Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice.

Success.

“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.

“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”

Oh.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?

You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”

It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”

“Aww, must be some important business.”

He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”

“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”

And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you.

Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck.

All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”

“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth.

Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission.

Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”

And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find.

“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”

Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight.

Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away.

Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”

Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy. Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet.

“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.” he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting.

“You were the one that-”

And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds.

And then it was like something snapped.

Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams.

“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”

But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.

And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”

“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-

“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue.

“W-what?”

“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”

And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before.

Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him.

Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it.

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls.

Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face.

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him.

And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high.

Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do.

Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip!

And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one.

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you.

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.

Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed.

“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.

“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”

You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin.

Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.

“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.”

Shit had you said that out loud?

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you.

Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs.

And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh.

“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”

“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need.

You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”

“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”

“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”

He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now.

Of course, you were not one to be out-done.

Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-

“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”

“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle.

“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth.

“I’d make you cum harder.”

Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet.

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard.

Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”

And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards.

“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”

With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips.

You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust.

But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch.

“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in.

“No.”

“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”

“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.”

One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing.

And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all.

“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”

And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?

“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.

And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”

His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”

You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”

“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”

And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you.

“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”

You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”

“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”

Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high.

Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you.

And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough.

Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams.

Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven.

That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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boyczar · 9 months

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#aug 5 2023 #you’re having fun #i think you’re really doing pretty well at this point #i hope if you’re reading this again in a few years you’re doing even better & you’re staying on the right path for yourself #i hope you remember this time in your life as the very crucial beginnings to ultimate healing & becoming a better person in general #ERP is working #you are WAY more emotionally regulated than you thought possible #the heaviness in your chest has been gone for a while now #you don’t smoke anymore #you aren’t controlled by mental illness #i think you’re becoming more and more receptive to the people & things that are going to help you continue to grow #creativity & intution seem to only increase as time goes on #especially this month #i hope you’re feeling as happy as i do these days #maybe even much better #mine

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

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any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO

sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??

*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.

Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.

Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.

Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?

Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?

These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.

When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.

Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.

Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️

#asks and answers

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jasminesfury · 7 months

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messy chaotic ‘we’re terrible for each other but can’t keep our hands off each other’ prompts

oh hello i am in fact alive

“do you ever actually think before speaking? like is your brain capable of processing a thought??” “yeah, it’s just immune to idiotic ones”

“take that back” “prove me wrong” (or; a cliché ‘make me’)

being in some sort of intense slightly pointless staring match (after an argument, preferably) and just saying “oh fuck it who cares” and pulling their neck down to kiss them

“do you the sex would be boring if we didn’t argue before it every time?” “i mean, we could always argue during”

^or, alt: doing it once when you’re not arguing instead kinda tipsy but not drunk, and it’s all giggles and laughter and sweet nothings and the next morning being like “oh fuck i actually like them”

“why does everything with you have to be so difficult!?” “it’s fun getting you all riled up”

“oh, if i had known that’s all it would take for you to shut up i would’ve done this ages ag-“ “only finish that sentence if you have a death wish”

“you’re doing it wrong” “jesus, would you just relax” “no because i’m wasting my tim- oh, oh my god-” the other character smirking, “don’t look so smug” “i think i’ve earned the right, now just trust me, okay? believe it or not, i want to make you feel good”

“so you’ll finally stop being an asshole and just sign the document?” “keep doing this and i’ll sell you my house”

getting jealous and the other character pretending that it’s unreasonable, but secretly character A is the only one they feel a spark with. the only one they feel excited to be around

“we should probably stop this” “yeah” … “we’re not going to though, right?” “oh absolutely not”

“nope no nada, no using sex to get me to do things you want, it’s not going to work anymore”

“you really are a fucking asshole aren’t you?” “yes, i believe that’s what’s on my resume”

“i hate you” “i know” “and that won’t change” “i know” “and you’re still okay with this?” no “yes”

“imagine a universe where we didn’t hate each other, that would be so-“ “boring?” “yeah! like imagine not bickering over tiny things, that’s no fun”

“she says we bicker like an old married couple”

talking with a friend; “you shouldn’t go there” “i know” “and you shouldn’t sleep with them” “i know” “it’s a bad idea” “i know” “well. will you?” “..yeah”

“i know we’re terrible for each other but every time i look at them it’s just like my brain flies out the window and my hormones take over”

“we’re broken up, it’s just two friends going out for drinks, okay?” ending up in one’s bed, but alright

“did you sleep together?” “noooo, i just-“ “tripped on a stone and accidentally dailed his number which magically led to you two meeting at a pub and you just magically teleported to your bedroom without your clothes on? yeah, thought so”

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borderlinereminders · 6 months

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Something that was crucial to me being able to foster healthy relationships (platonic and romantic) was learning those around me aren’t mind readers.

Communicating honestly and effectively can allow people to be there for you. It can also allow you to work out conflicts in order to maintain long term relationships.

It might seem “wrong” to ask for your needs to be met. But it isn’t. In fact, usually our loved ones prefer us to be up front with our needs rather than hinting at them. (Hinting is exhausting for both parties and easily missed.)

Communicate your boundaries. “When you tease me about —-, it really upsets me. Please don’t do that anymore.”

Communicate what is working for you. “When you reach out to check in when I’m having a hard time, it really helps and makes me feel supported.”

Communicate what you need. “Things are really hard right now. I could use the company of a friend. Can I call you?”

A lack of communication can lead to relationships breaking. Resentment builds. Misunderstandings happen. Feelings get hurt.

If you don’t tell your loved ones what you need, then it’s unfair to us and them to be upset at them for not reading your mind.

You are allowed to have needs and wants. And you are allowed to express them.

#relationship advice #communication tips

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sumikatt · 4 months

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your ability to make art came free with your humanity! if you can’t draw then you can’t draw. art isn’t and shouldn’t be accessible to everyone. art is a privilege.

i could’ve made this shitty blank painting, why is it in a museum? i could’ve taken this photo better. be cringe and be free, draw your rainbow fursonas. just commission someone if you want art but can’t make it. modern art is so pretentious and meaningless. only hyper rich disillusioned people like abstract art. only dumbass gamers who don’t appreciate real art like hyper-realistic video game graphics. only silicon valley tech bros like this kind of ‘art’.

why don’t we appreciate traditional art anymore. isn’t the computer doing most of the work if you draw digitally? pirate photoshop! you’re cheating and stealing if you use that. here are some easy artist hacks! here’s how to trace correctly. nfts are so stupid, just right click and save lol. why is netflix not allowing screenshots, what am i gonna do, pirate the show a frame at a time?

i’m so glad those tech bros are getting sued for copyright violations. JSTOR has blood on its hands. just learn how to draw with your feet or mouth. typing words into a machine isn’t art. i wish it was a trend to go to the library. there’s no humanity or authenticity in AI. put your name into this generator and see what weird abstract thing you get! i hope CGI artists unionize, they are so clearly crunched and way underpaid.

this took months to make, isn’t that admirable? this only took a few seconds to make, there’s no soul in it. this was captured in fractions of a second, aren’t moments of humanity so beautiful yet fleeting? not everyone can make art. art is a luxury commodity and not everyone can afford it. creative hobbies are so valuable for your wellbeing, humans are meant to express themselves.

#.s #ai art #before you ask: yes this is inspired by the ‘girl dinner’ video

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tired-biscuit · 6 months

Note

okay but imagine werewolf best friend kiba who has wanted and loved you for years. who has pined and craved and fucked a pair of your underwear and chased off so many 'rivals' behind your back.

imagine going away for college and reconnecting. maybe you go camping. maybe you trigger his rut earlier because he's wanted you for so fucking long that it can't be contained. him at the entrance, unzipping it, crawling over you, waking you up with his head between your legs and begging for you to 'help him out'. for 'just the tip'

but it ends up with him knotting and breeding you and you wake up with his mark on your shoulder and he's already pawing at you again

Finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you)

18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba

premise: when an accidental encounter with your former childhood best friend leads you to agree to a one-night camping trip consisting of just you two, you discover that there’s more to your friendship than initially meets the eye.

cw: monsterfucking (he's mostly in his human form, though), knotting, creampie, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes.

college/modern AU. friends to lovers, one bed trope (kind of, they’re sharing sleeping bags in the same tent), unestablished mating bond, mutual pining, lots of bickering and misunderstandings; they get into one big fight (kiba and reader are polar opposites personality-wise and tend to agree to disagree), usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader. i think that's everything?

wc: 26.2k

find part two here!

———

You run into Kiba at the grocery store, around two weeks after returning home from college.

It’s completely coincidental; neither of you expects it to happen. You catch him standing next to the fruit section, picking the best-looking oranges out of the bunch with slightly pinched eyebrows and narrowed eyes, and before you can even ready yourself to approach him, he already beats you to it.

He blinds you with his grin despite the distance between you as you raise your hand to wave him over. A single dimple that you were already expecting appears in his right cheek. His smile is toothy and friendly; nostalgic. It throws you back to a much simpler time.

After all, you’ve known each other for years — you and Kiba go way back. Back to when your only concern had been what cartoons to watch, and the urgency to come back home well before it got dark outside was a rule set in stone.

Back then, the world seemed to be splashed with brighter, more vibrant colours than it is now. A sugar rush was the best thing to ever happen to you before you came crashing down twice as hard, and your mother had called you downstairs for breakfast every single morning before ruffling your hair and rushing off to work.

Now, you’re happy if you get the chance to FaceTime with her once or twice a week while you’re away at college. Your hair certainly doesn’t get ruffled anymore and you make breakfast yourself.

Even the trees in your neighborhood have changed, no longer appearing as tall as they used to be because, well, back then you were the smaller one. The sidewalk on your street was sizzling hot with summer heat, but now it's getting worse each year, and your feet aren’t bare anymore as you walk on it; no longer trekking the familiar route that would lead you to the house of the very boy, who now stands before you in the middle of the grocery store instead of leaning against the open doorway of his childhood home, impatiently waiting to pull you inside.

You used to spend nearly every single day with him. Going on adventures with your bikes — you with your helmet on, him without — until your legs were aching from pedaling so much had become a daily thing of sorts. Constantly coming up with new ways to entertain your never-satisfied, highly imaginative kid brains was a favoured pastime. Wearing scrapes of all shapes and sizes on your knees and palms like they were badges of honor was a thing to be expected.

But that’s all gone now.

Because now, you’re both adults. Juggling jobs and degrees — well, at least one of you is, not that you’re surprised in any way that Kiba hasn’t chosen to try his hand at college — and all that other crap that consists of time-consuming responsibilities that can be quite pesky and bothersome, but make your lives easier to live nonetheless.

It feels like an aeon has passed as a result. Like your childhood had been whisked away from you by neither of you ever realizing it until it was far too late. So, you’ve drifted apart. It tends to happen.

Come to think of it, when was the last time you’d seen your trusted partner in crime? Three years ago? Or has it been four already? You’re unsure.

All you know is that it’s been long. Too long. College feels like it’s been nothing but a rather confusing blur, to say the least.

But so does Kiba.

And so do you.

You’ve both become utterly indecipherable in each other’s eyes. Like foggy glass on a rainy morning.

So you use a couple of moments to merely look at each other because of it; to wipe the condensation off the glass with the sleeves of your phantom sweaters. Him, with those goddamn oranges that he’s still holding in his too-big hands, and you, with your shopping cart that you forgot back at the end of aisle 7 twice already.

You stare and stare and stare, all until your burning curiosity finally gets the best of you, and you can’t help but invite him to approach you with a not at all subtle aim to appease it.

Kiba visibly perks up when you wave him over. He shoves the oranges into a reusable bag that his mom had always nagged him about using, and walks over with that confident stride you’d always envied him for having.

And then all of a sudden he’s right there, in the flesh. Looking the same as he’d always looked, but also not at all.

It’s weird. His smile is the same but the face that surrounds it has changed. Finding yourself in his presence again after a period that you’d describe nothing short of a small eternity, you realize that even if the grin of your childhood best friend is an exact replica of his old one, everything else has either faded away or been replaced by something new.

And new means foreign.

Because as you tip your head slightly upwards to initiate proper eye contact this time, you realize that Kiba has gotten taller. Way taller. Even with his posture relaxed, he towers above you with no effort; something he didn’t get to do back when you’d been nothing but a pair of runts, practically conjoined at the hip.

And that’s not all there is to it. Besides his impressive height, Kiba has also become broader in the shoulders and longer in the legs since you’ve last seen him. He has a sleeve of insanely intricate tattoos covering nearly the entirety of his left arm; it reaches up to the short sleeve of his light-grey tee and probably up to his shoulder. He’s also lost most of his baby fat, and thus now owns a face more defined than you ever recall it being.

His mop of hair is mostly hidden by the faded baseball cap that he must have put on to fight the summer heat that’s raging outside, however there are still a couple of rogue curls peeking out at the sides and at the nape of his neck. The brim has softened from how old the cap is, not as bent downwards at the corners as it surely used to be ages ago, but at least it still gets the job done.

He’s always had a habit of being lazy whenever it came to getting haircuts. It seems like some things did manage to stay the same, after all.

You investigate further. As far as differences go, the edge of Kiba’s jawline is sharp instead of round, and his cheeks look smooth to the touch. He’s clean-shaven; the embarrassing peach fuzz days, which you used to tease him about for months on end, have ended.

He’s a grown man. A pretty darn healthy, vigorous one, it seems.

And speaking of being healthy, you remember a time when he wasn’t.

———

You’re fourteen again and find yourself back in a rather familiar bedroom.

The air inside the room smells warm, like wood and your second home. The sounds of the house are just the way you remember them being.

There’s someone talking downstairs. Furniture cracks and snaps as it settles in even if it’s old and has had more than enough time to do so already. Dog claws ceaselessly click against the floor. The TV is on. You can hear the weather forecast for tomorrow if you strain your ears hard enough.

And then there’s the shallow breathing.

Oh, yeah. Right.

Kiba’s sick.

Your smile wavers as you keep sitting on the edge of the bed, his bed, that you’d fallen asleep in a rather embarrassing amount of times back when your legs were shorter and it hadn’t been considered awkward or improper just because your best friend belongs to the opposite sex.

The sheets are a tacky design of light blue and white and the mattress is old, but sturdy enough to not cause any worry of having to buy a new one just yet. It supports both his and your own weight fairly well, however it won’t be able to do so for much longer, you think.

You turn your head towards the window. It’s fall and it’s raining outside — the heavy raindrops rattle against the glass every so often whenever the wind catches them, making you stare out at the foggy grayness that sluggishly spirals on the other side.

You’ve left your boots downstairs. In the hallway, where Tsume, Kiba’s mother, had greeted you and ushered you inside the moment you’d come knocking on her front door, looking soaking wet to the bone. Besides your boots, your bright yellow raincoat resides there as well, probably dripping from the hanger onto the floor, making a puddle you’ll have to feverishly apologize for later.

With your train of thought coming to a halt, you eventually grow tired of watching the nearby woods that reside next to the Inuzuka household. So you shift your gaze again.

This time, you focus on the room itself. There are posters taped to the walls, the majority of them depicting movies and rock bands that you’ve never really fancied yourself all that much. The desk is littered with clutter, most of it school-related but you’re able to spot a couple of comics in there as well. The alarm clock on the nightstand is digital; it shows the time.

3:27 PM.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, but it’s also the fourth day that Kiba hasn’t come to school. The seat in the classroom that he usually sits in remains empty — you know that because you keep it reserved for him by placing your backpack on it each morning. He’s been absent ever since the pain in his limbs and the unyielding fever had become too much for even him to handle; the boy who just loves to brag about never getting sick.

All right, you’ve got to cut him some slack because in some way, he isn’t even actually sick? His growth spurt — and his entire puberty experience overall, if you could even call it that — is the thing that has taken such a toll on him, not actual illness.

And in some way, it has taken a toll on you, too. Seeing him ache hurts you just the same, even if your bones aren’t the ones that are currently growing much too fast, much too soon.

So here you are, bringing him copies of the notes that you’ve been religiously taking in class for the fourth day in a row. Keeping him company. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with a rag soaked in water, like a good best friend. Over and over again. Without stop.

His dark brown hair is damp from all the water and sweat, it sticks to his temples. He’s burning up, to the point that his face is flushed pink instead of tan, but he’s still shivering all over underneath the covers.

Your heart hurts as you watch him endure such profound agony; it makes your chest squeeze tight. He’s clearly fallen ill in some shape or form and is in obvious pain, but no matter what you tell him, he simply refuses to go to the doctor’s office.

Truth be told, you feel rather surprised that his mom hasn’t dragged him there herself yet. Taking into account that she’s usually completely unfazed by his overwhelmingly stubborn nature, you’d expected her to not be taking any shit from her son whatsoever and would be firmly setting her foot down when it came to anything concerning his health. Granted, while he did inherit most of his obstinate qualities from her side of the family, the fact that—

“Stop worryin’ so much.”

You blink in surprise. “Mm?”

“I said stop worryin’.”

The feeble request that Kiba makes sounds firmer this time. It makes you look up from the rag you’ve been subconsciously clutching in your hands with a near death grip for the last five minutes or so.

The slightly tingly feeling that dances within them now is somewhat hard to ignore. Especially at the tips of your fingers.

So you rest your hands on your lap, rubbing your palms up and down your jeans just to have something to do now that they’re empty. By the time you finally will yourself to turn your head, Kiba is already looking at you from the confines of the cozy prison that is his bed.

His eyes are nearly half shut, eyelids heavy with lead-weighted exhaustion, but his expression is riddled with an emotion you’re not mature enough yet to fully decipher, much less understand.

Not that you’d ever tell him that, but you'd always considered him as the emotionally smarter one of your little duo; even with his awfully short temper taken into consideration.

After all, while you excelled in academics, Kiba sought different places to thrive and prosper in. It didn’t take a genius to see that he’s practically been made to communicate with others; that he’s a proper people person. Shaped by people to be loved by people.

And the people do tend to love him. They really do.

Now that you think about it, that may also be the reason as to why he has way more friends than you. Why he can usually turn most situations to his favour, while you normally struggle to avoid the worst of outcomes. Why he knows how to read you like an open book Every. Single. Time, while you just play a never-ending guessing game of what’s happening inside that thick skull of his.

You’re an odd pair together. He’s nothing like you and you’re nothing like him. It’s no wonder that some don’t believe you’re actual friends at first, however Kiba has always been fast to prove them wrong. For some unknown reason, he’s attached you to himself and has been pulling you along for the ride ever since the day he first saw you. It’s been like that ever since.

Meanwhile, you’re just happy that you have someone to spend time with. Being so introverted proves to be quite a nuisance whenever it comes to meeting new people and acquiring friends, so he’s pretty much all you’ve got.

And that makes you care for him even more.

“How on earth am I supposed to ‘not worry’,” you begin to say quietly, making air quotes, “when my best friend has been practically chained to his bed for the last four days?”

Immediately, Kiba brushes you off with a flick of the wrist, gesturing that he thinks you’re overreacting. It pisses you off greatly, especially when he says, “Oh, please… I’m fine. You just worry too much.”

“Are you, though?” you ask. “Fine?”

“Are you?”

You exhale through your nose as you attempt to relax and wiggle your fingers, trying to appease him or convince him otherwise, you don’t know.

The truth is, you want to tell him that no, you’re not fine. You want to tell him that you are worried sick for him because he is sick and won’t admit it. You want to tell him that you love him, that you care about him. Not in that kind of way, of course — goodness, no! — but in a way a young teenage girl who doesn’t know any better can love her best friend.

But instead, all you do is stay quiet because being considerate of others is your go-to. Besides, his headache is as bad enough as it is already. Who are you to make it worse by troubling him with your nonsense?

Unfortunately for you, Kiba doesn’t buy your rather bad portrayal of calm. All he does is sigh at it.

Continuously.

“What? What are you sighing for so much?” you instantly snap at the sound and aura of exasperation he emits, now. Your tone is razor sharp, much sharper than it needs to be, but you just can’t help yourself. Being so different from you, he can be outright infuriating sometimes.

“Nothin’,” he answers back, and yet he can’t resist giving you that look that definitely means there is something. “It’s nothin’, bunny.”

Your tone falls flat at the nickname he’s given you because of your rather timid personality, “Liar.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He grunts, sighing again. “Oh, c’mon—”

“What?” you quip again. “You told me not to worry, so here I am; not worrying! I’m doing just like you’ve said.”

The small wrinkle that’s etched itself between your brows deepens as the words rush out of you in one great swoop. It’s clear to you both that you don’t really mean them, but it looks like there’s definitely no sign of you admitting them coming any time soon.

“Fine, whatever.” Kiba almost sounds like he’s grumbling as he says, “You’re not worrying. There. Happy?”

You scoff. “No? Yes? I don’t know if I’m happy!”

He manages a weak smile at your indecisiveness, a mere quirk of an upper lip that’s not nearly as lively as it normally would be if he weren’t so sick. Your body tenses as he shuffles closer to the edge of the bed where you reside and nuzzles his face deeper into the pillow, wiping the sweat off his cheek right into the bedding this time around.

His voice comes across as muffled from the way he’s still hiding his face from view when he says, “I can practically see your brain catching on fire from all that worry that you’re apparently ‘not’ feeling, ya know.”

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling back as far as they’ll go. They just do it completely on their own accord whenever you’re with him, it seems. “And how can you possibly—”

He points at you with one tired hand and winces at how terribly heavy his arm feels with the action. It’s unpleasant and draining, but he wants to prove a point. So he keeps it nice and steady as he says, “Look, there’s smoke comin’ outta your ears already! You better chill out, or that lil’ pea brain of yours is gonna get burnt to a crisp or somethin’.”

He hisses like he’s just burnt himself after he teases you, drawing yet another scoff out of you.

A pout graces your lips as you glare at him from underneath your lashes; ever the unexpected drama queen. “Well, at least I have a brain to burn, unlike yourself.”

His eyes settle on you again. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, dummy,” you say. “I can bet you five bucks that there’s nothing but hay stored inside that freakishly big head of yours!”

“I—” He bristles at your comment before his eyes open wide and he scowls. “Shut up! My head ain’t big!”

Your expression mirrors his own, now. “No, you shut up!”

“You can’t talk to me like that; I’m sick!”

“So you finally admit that you’re actually sick, huh?”

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant—”

“Nu-uh, you said it so you meant it!”

Everything is quiet as you lean forward to point and dig an accusatory finger into his chest. He tenses but relaxes in a beat of a moment as the remaining pads of your fingers join in and graze the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt. Swipe to the right, then slightly upwards, the flat of your palm rests above the place where his heart lies.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!

His heartbeat is fast. Strong. Like a song that makes you want to scream the lyrics to instead of singing them so that you can feel it better inside the marrow of your bones.

But you don’t feel like listening right now.

“Hey, what’re you—”

He squirms and lets out a small noise of surprise when you suddenly jab him in the ribs.

Exchanging a quick look of betrayal with your best friend as he slaps your hand away, you feel your lips start to quiver. It’s not long before you both succumb and break into a fit of quiet laughter. The tension gradually dissipates with every chuckle and snicker, right along with your worries. At least for a little while, that is.

Kiba’s laugh cracks midway. You’re unsure if it’s because of the fact that he’s not feeling well or because his voice is just getting deeper with age, however you’re still giggling by the time he clears his throat and reaches over to place his hand on top of your own.

Your eyes instinctively flit towards the contact. It’s not anything new, you’ve held hands with him before — god knows you’ve gotten fake-married on at least three different occasions throughout your childhood, and with three different flavoured ring pops, at that — but as you now gaze at the blunt crescents of his nails, you can’t for the life of you remember his hand ever being this hot to the touch.

It’s concerning.

“Dude,” you whisper, your voice slowly dropping from playful to wary. “I don’t want to nag you about it anymore since I know you don’t like it, but I seriously think that you should go see a doctor… You’re burning up and it’s probably—”

You twitch as Kiba gives your hand a gentle, albeit unexpected squeeze to make you look up at him again.

Just like your voice, his expression has switched from his previously boyish one, to a much more somber kind that, truth be told, you’re not used to seeing on his face all that much.

It makes your sentence, well, rambling, gradually fade into silence as you finally indulge him for once by keeping your mouth shut. He used to think you were quiet back when he’d met you. Now he knows that you just have to get comfortable in order to start speaking.

Shadows from the swaying branches outside dance across the side of his face that he hasn’t got buried in the pillow. Looking like he’s contemplating something heavy, Kiba swallows the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth whilst he runs his thumb along your knuckles.

The brief attempt at soothing you manages to bring a smidge of peace to the otherwise growing hurricane of emotions that’s steadily whirling somewhere inside your ribcage, however it’s over much too soon to actually make any difference.

Your look of concern only worsens as a result. Concentrating hard, you manage to repress the sudden urge to start biting your nails and tugging on the sleeves of your cream-coloured sweater that you’ve put on this morning.

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” you admit what he already knows, so quietly that you doubt if he can even hear it. “I just want you to get better.”

“I know,” is all he says. He can smell it on you.

“Then why won’t you—” You squeeze your eyes shut, groaning with irritation. “Gosh, why won’t you just do something about it, then?”

“Because I have to tell you something first,” he trails off somewhat reluctantly, and for once, he sounds like he’s actually being completely serious. “You just… you gotta promise me that you won’t tell anybody.”

Your reply comes quicker than one sequence of his heartbeat, “I promise. Besides, who would I tell anyway?”

“I mean it,” he says. You watch as he shakes his head slowly, sighing for real this time, not just to annoy you. “You seriously can’t tell anybody; not even your mom or Sakura or Ino. Especially Ino, for that matter.”

Offence bubbles within your chest way too fast at the merest hint of distrust. Since when did he start thinking you were one to yap out every little thing he tells you?

“And I really mean it, too,” you fuss, brow wrinkling. “Jeez, Kiba; if I promise you that I’m not going to tell, then I’m really not going to tell! I’m not that close with Ino and Sakura anyway.”

Kiba blinks, seemingly surprised by how heatedly invested you’ve gotten into learning his secret. But also by how close you’ve managed to squeeze yourself next to him with the upset feelings to overwhelm you, briefly forgetting the lengthy speech about how he should go see a doctor. How you wait, evidently impatient and with bated breath, just so that you’d be able to hear every word he has to say.

He’s been seeing you in a different kind of light as of late. So perhaps it’s time that he shed some of it on himself now.

He’s always been one to love the spotlight, after all.

———

“Well, well, well… do my eyes deceive me, or have you finally gotten taller, wolf boy?”

The short laugh Kiba lets out at your innocent taunt doesn’t crack like it did back when you were fourteen. Instead, it’s deep and hearty; it reverberates deep inside his chest, sounding like a voice a storm would possess if it had the ability to speak the human tongue.

“Still insisting on that ol’ nickname?” he asks as he rests one hand on his hip.

“Of course,” you reply, chuckling. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks like a nearly perfect replica of his mother in that exact moment; standing so disapprovingly, red shopping basket in hand. “I mean, who would I be if I did not make fun of you every chance I get?”

“Well, I dunno,” he mumbles whilst his eyes flick up towards the ceiling, seemingly searching for something. And then he looks at you again, but this time with that infuriating half-smile that you can’t say you’ve missed as he says, “A decent fuckin’ person for a change? Maybe?”

It’s light-hearted, what he says. Fun and provocative, just like he is. Like he’s always been.

So you bite.

“Oh, Kiba, Kiba, Kiba,” you purr, angling your head to one side playfully whilst clicking your tongue against your teeth. Your hand presses against his chest, the action so familiar it’s become muscle memory by now even after years of not initiating it. “When has being decent ever been fun to someone like you, mm?”

And there it is. The strong heartbeat corresponding to the soft lilt that appears in your voice when his name leaves your lips. Just like it’s always done whenever your only goal was to fluster him for ‘funsies’.

However, the interaction that was once so familiar to you is not quite as recognizable this time around.

Because now, it invites his gaze to settle back onto your face rather than pushing it away into the corner of the room.

So he stares at you now. Leers.

You try your best to ignore the way your muscles instinctively stiffen at the sight of the prolonged slits that slowly switch places with his pupils. Try your best to pay no mind to the way your pulse suddenly accelerates, pumping blood and forcing all of your senses to become overwhelmingly acute.

It’s done so fast that it makes you feel sort of dizzy. He stands straighter and every single hair on your body stands to attention in return. Goosebumps cover your skin the same moment as it starts feeling like it’s being pulled taut over your bones. You try to blame the sensation of a chill creeping up the back of your neck on the store’s AC but you know better.

The people who surround you don’t matter anymore. This summer’s hit song that annoyingly keeps on playing on repeat over the speakers above your heads has turned to white noise.

It’s just him and you and you and him. Past, present, future.

And fuck, his irises are no longer brown. They’re darker; golden, almost unnaturally yellow. The colour gets eaten up fast as the pupils expand and shrink continuously. He zeroes in on you, on your mouth, on the curve of your face, on the bare side of your neck that you’ve got exposed with your ponytail and the tilt of your head.

It’s been years since he’s last looked at you like that; that one time before you ran off to college, when you took it a step too far with the innocent flirting and you’ve almost come too close for comfort.

But unlike before, he simply refuses to tear his eyes off of you this time. Refuses to relent. Refuses to blush and turn away in that sheepish way that is so uncharacteristic for an exceptionally, sometimes annoyingly bold person like him and that reminds you more of yourself.

His odd persistence causes him to pin you down with a single look, making you freeze on the spot.

Just like a predator would do to potential prey.

But that’s silly. You’re not prey! You’re his best friend, or well, you used to be once in a time long past. So keeping that in mind, you force yourself to quickly shake the eerie feeling off of your suddenly tense body as if it’s a heavy winter’s coat you’ve foolishly donned on, and ease the sudden tightness that tries so hard to take up residency within your chest, now.

But despite all of the attempts at self-soothing, as well as the countless comforting, reassuring mantras that you keep on playing on a loop inside your head in the same way you do a newly-discovered song on Spotify, you don’t really know what he’s like anymore, now do you?

You haven’t seen him in years, after all. Haven’t spoken to him in ages. You left him all alone, left him to his own devices after he’d given you the same look he’s giving you now.

What if he’s managed to become more wolf than human with all that alone time?

The question makes your head want to hurt, so it’s no wonder that your voice comes out somewhat small-sounding when you finally gather yourself just enough to murmur, “You’re doing the thing again.”

And his sounds just a smidge on edge, just a smidge too sharp as he takes a step closer and mutters, “Thing? What thing?”

“You’ve got, uh… y’know…” You swallow audibly and try not to pay attention to the way his gaze slides down to your throat because of it; to the way it softly bobs as the sticky spit travels down, down, down. You swear that you can see the corners of his lips kick up at the sight of it. “You’ve got nightmare eyes.”

“Huh?” It takes him a second to realize what you mean. To remember one of the old codes you’ve come up with using whenever you’re in public, amongst people who certainly don’t know what he truly is.

And then, at long last, the intensity in his expression ceases and brightens up as the realization dawns upon him. It’s like a lightbulb turning on with the flick of a switch.

“Oh. Shit. Fuck, umm,” he curses like a sailor whenever he’s caught off-guard. It makes you relax just the tiniest bit as he finally musters a genuine, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even… notice.”

You watch as he proceeds to rub his eyes with one hand, all whilst you exhale a long puff of air that you’d almost forgotten you were holding in the first place.

He looks at you again, genuinely confused and apologetic, and this time with pupils back to their regular circular shape. It causes some primal sort of relief that reaches the very core of your psyche to wash over you.

You’re free to move again.

“It’s— Hah, it’s fine,” you manage weakly. “Besides a pretty awkward start to a conversation, it’s no biggie, really.”

“Fine? It definitely ain’t fine,” he retorts immediately. “You wouldn’t be lookin’ like you’re scared shitless right now if it were fine.”

“Me? Scared of you? Oh, please!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest even if your limbs feel very wobbly and soft like jelly all of a sudden. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He blinks again, his look a slightly incredulous one. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

The bridge of your nose scrunches up in mild confusion as you ask, “Forgot what?”

Kiba grumbles this time, pointing to his own nose, “Uh, the fact that I can literally smell the fear on ya…?”

Oh. Oh! He’s right, you somehow did manage to forget that; forget his ability to smell how someone is feeling just from the way their hormone levels change the very base of their scent and the sweat they exude as a result. Or whatever the science behind it is.

Jesus fucking Christ. Him and his stupid wolf genes. What’s next, him pinpointing the day when your next period is due?

As if that hasn’t happened before.

“Wha—...? Of course not! Tsch.” You try to play it off with a click of a tongue that doesn’t manage to convince either of you. “What I don’t remember, however, is giving you permission to sniff me like some sleazy creep.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he bristles immediately at the remark. “You know damn well what I meant.”

You nod. “Yes, that you’re a sleazy creep.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” he asks. “Stop breathing around your presence?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He gives you a pointed glare. “It also wouldn’t hurt to try shutting the fuck up every once in a while, and yet here you are.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’ve also managed to forget what a prick you are.”

“Right back atcha.”

You both share a short laugh at your little faux quarrel, the tension slowly relenting. The entire interaction is familiar.

His shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows down to something a bit more normal. He doesn’t point it out just for the sake of not starting yet another petty argument.

“But seriously, don’t worry about it.” You pause at some point, stifling another brittle chuckle that bubbles up your throat. “I know you can’t control your weird, spooky eyes, okay? And besides, I’m used to them anyway! Well, kind of… I guess I’m used to them…? Gosh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Is it because you’re nervous?

“Still,” he chides, sighing. “It’s been years and I should’ve learned how to fix it by now. It’s just—” He takes a breath. Ponders as various excuses and half-truths start bouncing off the walls inside his head. “It’s just that I dunno how to control it whenever you’re… umm...”

You give him a second, but when he doesn’t say anything else, you bite the bullet to ask, “Whenever I’m what?”

“Ah, nothin’,” he mumbles whilst scratching his cheek. You narrow your eyes as he fixes the brim of his cap. As he tugs on the collar of his thin t-shirt with its stupidly oversized Nike logo. He’s fidgeting all over the place, especially when he feels the need to add, “It’s nothin’.”

It feels like life is repeating itself all over again.

Your curiosity makes you lean further into his space just like you had a habit of doing back when you were kids. Only this time, he doesn’t take your hand. He doesn’t stroke your knuckles one by one, but rather pushes back, creating more space between your bodies.

Well, that’s new.

“C’mon.” Your tone falls slightly flat because of the sudden disappointment that reaches way deeper than you’d expected it to as you ask, “Whenever I’m what?”

He sounds surprisingly stern as he says, “I told you… it’s nothing.”

A long pause ensues. And then all he gets from you is an, “Okay.”

Awkwardness lingers in the air once again. It makes you both uncomfortable because neither of you is really used to the sudden quiet. You’ve gone through so much, so many experiences together and now it’s come to… this? Walking on eggshells around each other until the end of time just because of that one event in the past and now this one?

Fuck no. As if you’re going to let that happen.

So you plaster a smile onto your face, one that doesn’t really reach your eyes just yet as you say, “Just so you know, you’re acting hella weird right now.”

“Well what did you expect, bunny?” He shrugs and you try to act like you don’t notice the way his t-shirt tightens at all the right places with it. Goodness, he’s changed so much in just a couple of years, you can hardly believe it. “I mean, I bump into you after literal years of no contact whatsoever, and when I finally do, all you do is argue with me and call me a, what was it again, ‘sleazy creep’?”

It’s hard not to giggle at the air quotes he feels the need to show you with the two words. It makes your face lighten up as you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“What, bunny?” He smirks, now. Smirks! “Sure. But only after you stop calling me all of your stupid nicknames.”

You muse like a cat. “Why of course, Jacob.”

His expression turns blank in an instant, the smirk gone as quickly as it came. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a name, isn’t it?”

“Just so you know, I still regret the day you made me watch Twilight with you.”

“Oh, shush. You loved it, and besides; it was on theme!”

You feel your grin growing into a genuine one as he scoffs and grunts something under his breath in reply. He’s clearly annoyed with all your bullshit.

“Mm?” You blink, the corners of your lips twitching upward, persisting. “What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

“No, no, none of that again. Out with it; I want to hear what you said.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, the honey that swirls in them as dazzling as ever. So syrupy sweet, his irises are an utter delight even under the unflattering fluorescent lights of the store. “I said that you’re still as insufferable as you used to be back when we were kids.”

The chuckle you let out now is one of pure amusement. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he says as he pops the P. “A goddamn pain in my ass since day one.”

You quirk a brow. “Am I really, now?”

“Who else but you?”

It’s always been you.

His words spark a sensation of genuine fondness to swell so deep within your ribcage that you’re somewhat unsure of what to do with it.

Confused, you push it to the side. Sweep it under the rug and allow it to join the already big pile of all the other unrequited feelings you’ve never dared to express. It’s easier to purposefully keep your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

You can’t see when you’re already blind.

“Any-ways,” you sing-song, extending your hand towards him. “It was good seeing you again. We should grab a coffee sometime, if you’re up for it?”

Instead of replying and shaking your hand, Kiba looks down at your polite gesture and nearly starts to frown at the sight of it.

“What?” you ask as the slight wrinkle between his brows continues to deepen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” He hesitates a bit then, swallowing hard. It makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’ve just missed you, is all. This town fucking sucks ass when my girl’s not in it, ya know? And this whole handshake thing you’re doing is weird.”

Fuck. His honesty, the way he calls you his girl, the too-warm look in his too-warm eyes, fucking everything in that wretched moment makes you start feeling dizzy and causes sweat to gather in a layer so thick right on the flat of your awkwardly twitchy palms, one of which you’re still extending towards him.

What you wouldn’t give for a pair of pockets to stuff them into right now.

Because to be completely honest, you’re outright baffled by the reaction that your body throws at you with full force, now. He’s called you the same two words a million times before, alone or in front of other people — it never really mattered. To him, you were always his girl. It was that simple.

And while that did manage to stir up some emotions within you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge yet even back then, you always managed to play it off like it was no big deal.

But those feelings have gotten stronger now, despite the distance. They’ve gotten potent. To the point where they’re almost deadly.

And they’re also sneaky, like a shadow grazing your back and breathing right at the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder. They gradually build up with each passing second of silence that hangs between you. They take their time to build up on momentum; like an avalanche or an upcoming tsunami.

And for a moment, just for the shortest of moments, you swear that Kiba can tell.

But luckily for you, he seems to be oblivious about it, or is at least playing it off like he is. And that’s good! The least he can do after cooking up this mess, is save you the embarrassment that you most certainly don’t wish to live through, thank you very much!

So you do the next best thing that is currently at your disposal.

You object to his genuine affection like an idiot.

“Whaaat? You missing me?” Internally cringing at how high your voice is getting in pitch, you’re almost positive that it must hurt his sensitive wolf hearing. However, much to your dismay, you just can’t fucking stop acting weird for some reason. “Pfsh… Didn’t anyone tell you that lying isn’t nice, Inuzuka?”

For fuck’s sake, you’re acting like he’s holding you at gunpoint.

“Uh… Okay? Hah…?” He gives you a look filled to the brim with doubt, his dark brows faintly scrunching together again. “Well, you wanna know what else ain’t nice?”

All you can do is nod. You’re on the verge of killing yourself right here and now.

“Well, how ‘bout,” he pretends to ponder, rubbing his chin. “Oh! How ‘bout forgetting all about your best friend the moment you start attending some fancy, goody two shoes college halfway across the country. Yeah.”

It’s your turn to offer him your best unimpressed stare this time. Your heart feels like it’s stuck inside your throat, pulse rattling behind your teeth.

You can’t really tell if he’s joking or not. His tone may be light, sure, but you aren’t able to read him as well as you used to back in the day, and even then it was pretty bad.

He’s gotten… complicated.

Much like your entire friendship has.

You can still remember the almost kiss that never happened back at his place that caused this entire flurry of very, very confusing emotions to start in the first place, or at least present themselves at the surface. Right on the night before you’d packed your bags and ran off to the other side of the country, nearly fully ghosting him on the spot. Your best friend.

“C’mon, man,” you mumble, “don’t be like that.” The guilt is bad enough as it is.

“Like what?” he asks. As is regret.

“Don’t hold a grudge like you always do. I’ve come home loads of times between semesters; during the holidays especially,” you hesitantly retort, frowning. “And besides, it’s not like you weren’t gone all the time either. I saw your posts about all the backpacking and all those roadtrips and whatnot... With Tamaki.”

The mention of his ex-girlfriend catches him off guard. He blinks, flicking his gaze towards the stacked shelves that suddenly seem to become like the most interesting thing in the world.

Goddammit, you’d almost kissed him while— while—

Still, despite all of that, you wait for him to say something first. Patiently, impatiently; you don’t even know anymore.

“I called,” he lamely offers at long last.

“Well, I texted,” you reply in a heartbeat.

“Barely,” he corrects. “You barely texted.”

Your expression falls somber in an instant. Of course he’d paint you as the bad guy as effortlessly as it is to breathe. It’s what cancers are known for. Especially cancer men.

“Well,” you stumble, shrugging. “What did you want me to do, Kiba? I-I mean, you had a girlfriend.”

“So?”

He doesn’t even ask how you know that they’ve broken up. But to be fair, when you stop posting couple photos on your stories and feed and suddenly unfollow each other, it’s a pretty obvious tell.

“So? So?” You stare at him, taken aback. “I seriously doubt Tamaki would’ve been happy to see some random chick blowing up your phone constantly.”

“But you’re not some random chick. You were my best friend… you still are,” he says and Jesus on a fucking cross, the way he says the words makes him sound so fucking hurt.

“I know,” is all you can offer. The weight that suddenly sits on your shoulders makes you want to slump. That, or either curling yourself into a ball.

The feeling only gets worse when he says, “We were supposed to go on those trips together.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry.”

He fixes the brim of his cap again. “Are ya, though? Sorry?”

“Yes! Of course I am!” You scowl so hard that it makes the bridge of your nose scrunch up in annoyance. “If I could do something about it, I would. Trust me.”

He looks at you; really looks at you. Up and down. And then he says, “Then do it.”

“Do what?” you ask dumbly.

“Go on a trip with me,” he explains. “Today.”

“Today?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

You stare at him. He stares right back, gaze unmoving.

Fucking hell, he’s actually serious about this.

“But I’m… I’m not really a backpacking kind of girl,” you try meekly.

Just the mere idea of going somewhere remote with him completely alone is making you feel warm all over. You need to get yourself out of this mess ASAP!

“No worries,” he replies faster than a heartbeat. “We can always go camping.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Camping?”

“Yeah. For one night,” he says. “I know a really good spot that I go to all the time.”

“But I–” You fumble once more, looking down at the pretty nail polish on your toes. “I don’t even have the proper clothes for it. Like those fancy gym clothes.”

“Heh.” You attempt to ignore the way his chuckle makes your heart want to jump. Especially as he leans in slightly to say, “All you need is a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Oh, or maybe those grey leggings that you always liked to wear and that make your ass look great… Do you still have those?”

He snickers like a child when you punch him in the shoulder.

“And what about the hiking boots, you perv?” you ask, brushing off his lewd comment with heat creeping up your neck.

“What about ‘em?”

“I don’t have those either.”

“Christ, we’re not going that far, bunny.” He laughs, looking at you in disbelief. “A pair of sneakers will do. You’re talking and planning like I’m gonna take you all the way up to the mountains like I’m some fuckin’ dragon or some shit.”

Your eyes surely must be getting tired from rolling back so much. “Hilarious.”

He waits on your answer with a smile; the one that shows that wretched dimple in his cheek and that makes him look entirely innocent despite the oddly sharp canine teeth.

Goddammit, you want to kill him because of how cute he is. However, you’re still feeling slightly unsure about the entire thing.

Evidently reluctant, you ask, “Just one night?”

“Just one night,” he confirms, nodding vehemently.

“And there isn’t going to be a full moon or anything… of that sort?”

He chuckles at the hidden question. “I wouldn’t really be out here shopping for groceries if there was a chance for that to happen, now would I?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” you trail off. You glance up at him, not fully convinced yet. “Do you promise that you’ll take care of everything?”

“‘Course,” he says.

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“That you promise.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

He sighs at how persistful you are. As if he’s any better! “Fine. I promise that I’ll take care of everything.”

Even you.

Seconds pass. One second, two, three. Staring at him with both of your brows tightly knit together, you can literally feel his excitement transferring itself to you through some invisible link between you which you’ve never quite managed to sever. You suppose his emotions are just that contagious.

“Well?” he inquires, all giddy-like. “What d’you say?”

“Well,” you trail off, kissing your teeth. “I suppose… a single night can’t really hurt?”

“Fuck, yes!” he exclaims and before you know it, you’re being pulled into a bear hug you didn’t even realize how much you’ve missed until you’re caught in it all over again.

Your cheek smushes against his chest. Muscle memory kicks in once more; persuading your arms to move on their own accord, letting them wrap around the familiar place a little above his waist that doesn’t feel as familiar anymore.

He smells good, like amber, the very heart of a forest and all things wild. It’s earthy, rich, inhumanly strong. It fills your nose, titillates your senses and makes lush greenery and spices start to take root inside your lungs.

Every breath makes you dizzier and it’s hard to keep your composure as a result; especially when there’s a sequence of powerful thump, thump, thumps pounding right against your ear, now.

His heartbeat is so fast. It’s like he has two.

You’re silent as you listen to the quick rhythm of his heart. And for a change, so is he. Feeling unsure how much time is passing, you continue to cling onto your best friend in the middle of the empty aisle, reawakening all the memories, warming your body with his heat even if it’s hot enough outside to fry an egg on the concrete.

The soles of your colourful flip-flops will surely stick to the sidewalk when you walk back home to gather your things and explain your unexpected trip to your parents.

“Kiba—” The last part of his name melds into a giggle from the way he squeezes you so tight that your spine pleasantly cracks in all the places that have been feeling way too stiff from the all-nighters you had to pull during exam week, and progresses into a quiet squeal for help by the time he swings you from side to side like an excited boy would his favourite toy.

“Ugh, m’sorry!” He laughs as he releases you, letting you plant your feet back onto the white tiles where they belong. “I just had to get that outta my goddamn system. It’s been building up for years.”

“It’s okay,” you say, punching his shoulder again, this time playfully. “I always knew you were secretly a softy.”

The tips of his ears turn pink at that. The blush is not strong enough to be noticed by you, but he feels the warmth, feels the subtle prickling along the back of his neck.

Why is it so intense?

It makes his voice drop lower as he mutters a flustered, “As if.”

“What, I really did!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever… But all jokes aside, I really am glad that you’re back,” he admits before you can beat him to it. He pulls back just enough to look you directly in the eyes and smiles. “I really did miss you a whole lot, bunny.”

It’s hard to be vulnerable and admit that you’ve missed him too, so you keep quiet as you plaster your best smile onto your lips again and reach up to jokingly flick the tip of his nose.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Perhaps it’ll distract him from the fact that unlike him, you’re as cowardly as they get.

———

“Hey, I meant to ask… How come you didn’t bring Akamaru with you today?”

Some time after bumping into you in the grocery store, Kiba stills for a second at the innocent question you present before him whilst walking the narrow forest path that is supposed to be leading you to your destination.

In the late afternoon hours, the forest feels like it’s alive. There are birds chirping amongst the branches of the trees above your heads and warm sunlight filters through the leaves. A nearby stream keeps busy by smoothing down the rocks inside it. Everything thrives during the summer.

Even the air smells better; like it’s been thoroughly ridden of your town’s signature scent. But despite the fact that you’ve reached the point of summer when dog days are approaching fast, every inhale you take now feels fresh and satisfyingly cool instead of sticky whilst it travels down your airway.

It’s nice to be able to breathe again.

And as for Kiba, well, he wishes he could say the same.

Following closely behind you, the young werewolf realizes that he is finding it harder and harder to concentrate the further progress you make on your hike. And while there may be plenty of reasons for his lack of focus at the moment, taking the fact that you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do into account, the main one is also the one that concerns him the most.

You just smell so fucking delicious to him, it’s insane.

He wants to devour you.

And how couldn’t he want that? There are phantom strawberries weaved into your hair and clothes from the matching shampoo and body wash set that you must have showered with before leaving your house. Sunscreen sits on your skin, turning the fruity notes even more summery than they already are.

If he walks close enough, he can even smell the sweat that slowly gathers on the back of your neck as you ascend the gradual slope of the hill that he’s planning to set up camp on.

So yeah, it’s hard to stay away, when all your scent does is lure him in. Hard to keep in-check, when you’re practically calling out to him, inviting him to come closer. He’s missed the way you smell so much.

God, if only he could just shove his nose into the crook of your neck and—

“Kiba?”

“Huh?”

The man in question blinks now, looking up only to find you standing several meters ahead of him; hands glued to your hips and brow quirked. He didn’t even realize that he’d come to a full stop while thinking about certain scenarios he’d rather not say out loud for the sake of your well-being.

“Sorry,” he says before he awkwardly clears his throat and quickens his pace to reach you again. “What did you say? I kinda got sidetracked for a bit there.”

“By what?” You part your lips wider, huffing whilst trying to gather your breath. He looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat while you’re literally feeling like your lungs are about to collapse any second now. To make matters even worse, he’s also skilfully avoided the pesky tree root that almost made you trip earlier without even as much as glancing at it.

“You know what, never mind that,” you say, shaking your head. “I just asked why you didn’t bring Akamaru with us today?”

“Oh, umm… Well, ya know; he’s gotten pretty old by now so he can’t really make the trek as effortlessly as he used to,” he starts to explain and you don’t miss the hint of melancholy that overcomes his voice ever so slightly now. “Nowadays I just leave him at my mom’s whenever I go hiking.”

“Oh,” you mutter while wrapping your fingers around the straps of your old backpack which you’ve dug up from the back of your sibling’s closet. Your grip tightens a bit as you add, “I’m sorry about that. I know how much you care about that dog.”

“I mean, it’s not like he’s dead or anything, hah,” he says, his chuckle kind of bitter. “He’s just a senior dog now, doing senior things. Nothing wrong with that, don’tcha think?”

“True,” you mumble, feeling guilty that you’d even asked the question in the first place. I mean, of course his puppy would be old by now. He's had him ever since he was seven, for crying out loud!

“So, anyway,” you say as you turn around to continue your way up the hill you’re practically yearning to reach the top of now, “you just go hiking alone, then? Since Akamaru stays at your mom’s?”

“Mostly, yeah,” he replies as he follows suit. You try not to pay attention to how attentive you are to his presence all of a sudden. “Before, it was usually just me and Tam, but now that—”

You pretend not to notice the way he cuts himself off mid-sentence the moment he accidentally mentions his ex-girlfriend’s name. Pretend that hearing it doesn’t make your chest feel a bit too tight all of a sudden, and not from lack of air or your rather poorly prowess in physical fitness.

“Uh,” he fumbles.

“Don’t you get scared, though?” you continue as if nothing has happened, helping him out. “Hiking all alone?”

If he’s grateful for your assistance, he doesn’t show it, because now he sounds genuinely confused as he says, “What is there to be scared of, exactly?”

His question makes you come to an abrupt stop. You turn your head to the side so that you can look at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘what is there to be scared of’? It’s a forest, Kiba.”

“So?” he replies, sounding even more confused.

“Are you being for real right now?” The blatantly puzzled look that settles onto his face puzzles you just as greatly in return, now.

Especially when he says, “I’m not entirely sure how you want me to answer that.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you say. “What if there’s, like… a bear, or something?”

He snorts at your idea, making you feel like you’re stupid for even suggesting a thing like that in the first place.

“What?” you fuss, glaring at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just that there aren’t any bears in these woods, dummy,” he answers, the last word kind despite if it’s usually meant as something derogatory.

You scoff, rolling your eyes for the millionth time today. “And how would you know that, oh, wise, all-knowing one?”

Kiba pauses as he smirks, rather resting his gaze onto a spot somewhere amongst the tree line instead of you. You catch the slight flutter of a muscle in his cheek as he grits his teeth and exhales.

His voice is low, but confident as he finally says, “Because around these parts, sweetheart, I’m the biggest predator. And luckily for us, bears tend to keep to themselves instead of picking fights with something that is much, much bigger than them.”

You’re not entirely sure if you want to know how big he can actually get, nor how far he’s actually able to see with those wolf eyes of his as he keeps on looking off into the greenery. His expression is one of the most complacent ones you’ve seen in a long while.

Still, you manage just enough bravery to swallow the thick saliva that’s now started to gather inside your mouth so that you can ask, “So you’re saying that you can take a bear in a fight? Like an actual living, breathing bear?”

“I mean,” he drawls, shrugging in such a nonchalant way that it only pisses you off further, “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your eyes open wide as your heart drops to your fucking ass. “What?! Are you serious?”

“No, I’m joking.”

Dead silence meets him from your side at his bad take on a prank. And Kiba — foolish, brainless Kiba — can’t help but start laughing at the look of pure, unhinged fury that starts to twist your features now. It makes your nostrils outright flare like a bull’s that’s been irked for far too long.

He gets startled when you start stomping towards him, though.

“I’m sorry—” He begins walking backwards to cause more distance between himself and the wrath that is you, laughter still escaping his lips. “I didn’t think that you’d actually—”

You’re too angry at him to notice how good his balance actually is. He doesn’t trip once despite the fact that he’s blindly walking backwards on uneven terrain; much less loses his footing or actually falls over.

His abnormally honed sense of stability only drives you more mad. By the time you finally catch up to him and shove him by pressing both hands against his chest, the startled little yelp he lets out in response is barely satisfying.

“Hey, don’t do that; I’ll fall!”

“Good, because that’s what I was hoping for!”

“Oh, c’mon… Hey!” He comes to a stop, grabbing you by the wrist when you try to strike him for a second time. “I told you I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“Sorry? Sorry? Oh, go fuck yourself, you absolute dick,” you snap at his half-assed apology and are practically gritting your teeth whilst trying not to pay mind to how his touch practically sears your skin. “I hope a bear actually does come into these woods just so it can maul you into a million tiny little pieces!”

“Aha… I’d like to see it try.” His eyes burn like a furnace when he says that. It’s even worse when he yanks on your wrist and pulls you closer, as if to prove a point.

The fire within subdues your own flames in an instant. It makes you lose your edge.

“You— You— Ugh!” The slight upturn of your nose almost comes across as snobbish as you whip your head away from him in one sharp movement and shove him again with your free hand, causing his grip to break free, but not because you want it to. “Go away.”

Watching you with profound amusement, Kiba thinks all your worrying is to die for.

Nothing’s really changed, now has it?

And as a result, the smile in his voice is almost unbearably audible as he hurries after you the moment you start walking again. Your pace has become much faster than it was before, but he has no trouble whatsoever in catching up.

He’s right behind you as he says, “I was just fucking with you a lil’ bit, can you blame me?”

“Oh, yeah,” you retort coldly, still not looking at him. “I most definitely can.”

“Christ, don’t be like that, bunny,” he says, nudging you in the shoulder with the help of his palm.

The touch, mostly platonic and what you’d consider meant to be purely reassuring in nature, nevertheless causes your entire body to end up becoming overly tense instead. This is the second time that goosebumps outright tighten your skin as his fingers slide down and graze your shoulder blade, as well as one of the backpack’s straps before letting go.

It’s hard to walk the path like a normal person, when every time he touches you feels like he’s leaving you burning in his wake.

“Are we cool now?” he asks when you don’t bother replying. You simply can’t.

“No, we’re not ‘cool’, you moron. Fuck you,” you answer when he nudges you for a second time, still fuming. Better yet, you’re the exact opposite from cool.

“Mm,” he hums, seemingly deep in thought. You think that he’s finally going to leave you alone, however, much to your dismay, not even a minute of quiet passes before he’s opening his mouth again, asking, “Wanna tell me why you’re so mad?”

“Gee, I wonder; maybe because you’ve got me losing my shit in the middle of the goddamn woods?” You scowl at him before pointing your gaze back onto the ground so that you can avoid falling onto your ass at the worst moment. “I mean honestly, how stupid can you get to even ask me that?”

“Well—”

“Don’t answer that!”

“Okay. Okay.” Kiba forces himself to stop the slight, upward curl of his lips at your agitated tone. This is not a laughing matter; or at least that is what he keeps telling himself for your sake. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“I want you to go away,” you repeat, exasperated at how he’s obviously fighting every urge to laugh at your bitter attitude.

As is expected, he pays you no mind and instead keeps following after you like he’s a dog tied to a leash that your hand holds. You can hear his footsteps trailing closely behind. “And where am I supposed to go, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, frowning. “Just go!”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit that you don’t give a shit.”

“Fine!” You huff, a certain kind of tightness in your expression when you look at him. “Fine. I’ll go, then!”

“And where are you gonna go, huh? There isn’t a single inch of these woods that I don’t know like the back of my hand.” He looks at you, his eyes glimmering with a subtle yellow shade instead of their usual brown. “I’ll just track you down like I always do.”

With the expectant, borderline mischievous look he dares you with now, he reminds you of an overexcited puppy.

Damn him. You’re not sure if you’re irked or envious by how unpredictable and free-spirited he is.

It only makes you angrier.

“I don’t know, Kiba,” you fuss, looking away and pinching the bridge of your nose to save yourself from getting flustered all over again. “Probably somewhere far away from you, because to be completely honest, you’re annoying the utter, living crap outta me right now, okay?”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, paying mind to the way your voice cracks midway. You’re clearly upset, frustrated, perhaps even overwhelmed by the way he keeps one-upping you with every sentence.

It prompts him to walk closer to where you stand. To lean into your space, carefully reach out and pry your hands away from your face so that he can give you that same look that he’d given you all those years ago when he’d been sick and you were swinging by his house every single day after school.

The one that’s completely, utterly riddled with an emotion you cannot bring yourself to understand even to this day.

“God, what do you want now?” you ask, your gaze still persistently avoidant.

“I want to apologize,” he says, this time completely serious. When you look up, he continues, “I know that I can be… a lot to handle at times, and—”

You purse your lips, mumbling under your breath, “Yeah, well, a lot is an understatement when it comes to you.”

He chuckles, huffing a laugh. “Okay, smartass; shush. I wasn’t done talkin’ yet.”

You glower at the way he shushes you, but otherwise keep silent.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I also know that it drives you up the wall when I’m a lot, so… yeah. I’ll tone it down, but you also gotta stop worrying so damn much, okay? It ain’t good for ya.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

“What I mean is that you’re just always actin’ so goddamn uptight, bunny; I can sense it! So just… try and relax for once, yeah? Allow yourself to enjoy something that’s a lil’ bit spontaneous. Go fuckin’ crazy, go wild; all that good shit, ya know?” he says, and all of a sudden he’s resting both big palms on your shoulders, shaking you gently as if trying to rid you of your nerves. “Deal?”

“I wasn’t… worrying.” Your heartbeat quickens at the doubtful look he gives you next. “But yeah. Yeah, okay. Deal. Going crazy, going wild; woo…”

You’re soap-sliver thin. Transparent. Ever the complicator. That ‘woo’ was pitiful.

But it’s a start.

“Attagirl, there she is,” he says as he ruffles your hair and fixes his backpack back into place. It encourages you to do the same with your own while he slips by you and walks a couple steps ahead, letting you breathe again. “Now let’s go. We’re almost there, but I wanna get the tent ready before the sun gets the chance to set.”

“Tent?” you mumble, following after him. “As in… singular?”

“Yeah?” This time it’s his turn to look at you over his shoulder. “What, did you think that I was gonna carry two of ‘em on my back? We’re sharing; it’s easier.”

Thump, thump, thump!

“Oh. Um.” You swallow hard as you rub the spot where your heart lies with a sweaty hand. “Okay.”

He’s quiet for a second. And then he asks, “Does that make you uncomfortable…? ‘Cause at the end of the day, I can always sleep outside. I just thought it’d be—”

“No, we’re good,” you say, cutting him off. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before,” you say. And nearly choke on your own words. “Wait! Wait, I-I meant like, you know, like back when we were younger.”

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

God, you’re thankful that he’s walking ahead of you so that he can’t see you experiencing your meltdown.

Kiba seems to ignore your little hiccup, because all he says now is, “Positive?”

You take a deep breath. Exhale. Clear your head just enough to ask, “What’s with all the questions all of a sudden…?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, his posture straight. “I just wanna make sure you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah, well all it’s doing is making me feel nervous again.”

“Oh, shit; okay, okay!” He turns to look at you again, his eyes wide. “We’re relaxing, we’re chilling… Look at the pretty nature, look at the trees! So zen, right? Real ‘live, laugh, love’ type of shit right here, yes, ma’am!”

Eventually, his rambling makes timid laughter echo throughout the forest.

What an idiot.

———

Ever since you’ve set up camp and settled on the small clearing on top of the hill, you’ve learned three things.

One, the stars are a beautiful sight that stretches far and beyond the inky sky when there’s not as much light pollution present to dim them out.

Two, your best friend is a master when it comes to putting up a tent and starting a campfire.

And three, he can also whip up some really, I mean really mean s’mores.

That last one is why you’re practically humming whilst you sit by the fire that night; dressed in your favourite hoodie and continuously licking droplets of melted chocolate off your fingertips with utmost delight.

With his dark irises adorned with dancing orange flames, Kiba’s eyes can best be described as blazing when he looks up at you.

“Whath?” you mumble, mouth full of marshmallows.

“Easy there, tiger,” he taunts. “Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?”

“Leave me alone,” you answer just as lightheartedly when you swallow. Finally willing yourself to relax, your voice sounds muffled because of how you pop the tip of your thumb out of your overly-sweet mouth, “As if you didn’t eat like six of them already.”

“I ate six ‘cause I’m a big fella with an even bigger appetite,” he counters immediately. “What’s your excuse?”

“Well, if you must know,” you brush him off with a rather sassy flick of the wrist. “I’m ovulating right now and it makes me hungrier than usual.”

Just as you’ve expected, Kiba splutters and nearly drops the bottle he’d just been drinking water out of. A series of coughing and choking noises ensue that make it very hard to hide your satisfaction.

By the time he manages to collect himself, you’re still musing. “You okay there, Inuzuka?”

“Christ,” he says, his voice so hoarse that it forces him to clear his throat for a second time around.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing like always. “It’s just that you don’t have to be so upfront about it.”

“Um, okay…? I was just joking, you know... Didn’t think you’d take it as seriously as you did.” Your upper lip quivers as you let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh at the look of guardedness that crosses his face when you speak the words.

It’s almost like he’s conflicted about how to act around you all of a sudden.

And it’s also the reason why you can’t help but ask, “What’s the big deal, though? Does it gross you out or something?”

“No. Gosh, no,” he immediately says and for a second you swear that there’s a blush tinging his already sun-kissed cheeks when he turns to look at the fire instead of you.

He seems to be struggling with finding the right thing to say as he runs his hands up and down his knees and brings them closer to his chest. “You know I’m not like that. It’s just that… well, I don’t wanna think about it, is all. About you, in that kind of way, I mean.”

He can’t risk it because he can still remember the scent of it from way back when he was seventeen. Can still remember how dangerously good it smelled it to him.

God, you were so alluring to him. You still are.

“Oh.” Ouch. You don’t realize that you take his words the wrong way, so they sting you in the place where your heart supposedly lies. Nevertheless, you still manage to smile like the brave girl you’re trying to be as you say, “Well, luckily for you; you won’t have to, because I haven’t ovulated in like three years or so, hah.”

He perks up as his eyes shift back to you. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

You shake your head, wishing to move on from the conversation but this time he strangely persists, pestering you to give him an answer even if he’d been the one acting weird about it earlier.

So you finally oblige, “Well, uh, I’m on birth control.”

He tilts his head to the side like a dog. “Why?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

He looks at you like you’re dumb. “Why are you on birth control?”

“Because I don’t want to get pregnant while having sex…?” you trail off. “Isn’t that supposed to be obvious?”

His eyes widen, dark brows shooting up so high that they could touch his hairline. “You’re fucking someone?”

Now is your turn to be taken aback. “I-I mean… I used to, yeah.”

Displeasure turns Kiba’s stomach into a pit of despair. He realizes that he’s not very fond of the idea of someone touching you like that. “When? And who?”

“I’m not telling you that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you about my sex life!”

“Why not?” he repeats, still oddly intrigued, almost nosy. “I can tell you all ‘bout mine if you tell me ‘bout yours.”

“Hell no.” You whip your head forward, glaring into the fire whilst grabbing the nearby stick that you used to roast — or should you say burn — your marshmallows with before. Poking the embers with it, the frown that’s on your lips only deepens now as you watch the sparks dance up into the night sky. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass on listening to you talk about all your failed sexual conquests.”

He chuckles with what you think is amusement, but the sound is oddly strained. “What makes you think that they’re failed ones?”

You purse your lips. “Well, you’ve broken up with Tamaki, didn’t you?”

“I broke up with Tam for other reasons,” he mutters, his smile wavering for a slight second. “The sex had nothin’ to do with it.”

You don’t want to tread these waters and besides, it’s better to keep things light. So you sit straighter as you stick your tongue out at him, taunting, “Or maybe it’s just your insanely small dick that’s to blame, did you ever think about that?”

“Oh, yeah, bet. It’s definitely small, all right.” Kiba huffs a laugh at your jab. And then he leans slightly closer; not too close, but just enough for the proximity to feel slightly more intimate than platonic.

His pupils are so big that they remind you of two vortexes as he whispers, “Wanna take a look just to make sure?”

Sinful thrill erupts within your gut at the closeness and his rather sly comment. It shakes you to your core even if you don’t want it to. So with your train of thought becoming all fucked up and wacky all of a sudden, you turn away from facing him, feeling the heat from the fire kiss your already much too-warm cheeks.

With your voice merely above a murmur, you sound like you’re almost out of breath as you utter, “You’re so gross.”

“Eh,” he shrugs and crosses his arms behind his head as he pushes further back against the log you’re both leaning against with the provided comfort of your backpacks. “You’re used to it.”

“What I am,” you say, side-eyeing him, “is traumatized.”

“Oh, boohoo.” He pretends to pout, closing his eyes, “Big bad Kiba keeps on bullying me. Poor, poor me.”

You giggle, poking the embers again. “Remember back when Sasuke used to bully you in elementary?”

“Tsch.” You watch as he clicks his tongue, his eyes still closed. “That Uchiha twink definitely did not bully me.”

“He kept on saying how your teeth were too big to properly fit inside your mouth.”

“Mhmmm,” Kiba drawls, crossing one ankle over the other. His eyelids flutter open slightly, the orange glow from the fire further complimenting his tan skin and dark hair. “And then, if memory serves right, I bit him for it.”

“And then you bit him for it, yes,” you echo, stifling another giggle. It makes your shoulders shake as you tug on the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “Oh my gosh, remember how pissed Mr. Umino got at you for that?”

“I think I got like two weeks of detention for it,” he drawls. “It was worth it though... I never liked Sasuke all that much for some reason.”

“No, I think it was more like three weeks than it was two? Because I remember having to walk back home from school all alone every day and thinking how it was taking ages.”

“Yeah?” He turns slightly so that he can look at you from the corner of his eye. “You actually remember that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

“Uh,” he blinks, his expression turning blank. “‘Cause instead of paying attention to the pain and suffering of your best friend, you were probably way too busy actin’ annoyingly obsessed with Sasuke, just like every other girl was doing in our year?”

“What?” Your eyebrows knit together at this newly-acquired information. “I wasn’t obsessed with him!”

Kiba turns to give you a look that outright spells bullshit.

“Come on,” you glance at him, head hanging low. “Don’t gimme that look.”

“What look?” he answers, still giving you that exact look.

“The one that makes me feel like I’m lying.”

The corners of his lips quirk upward. “But you are lying.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Ugh.” You scoff, playing with the strings on your hoodie. “Fine, maybe I did have a little crush on him. You can’t really blame me for it, though! Sasuke was, like… devastatingly pretty, okay?”

“So that’s your type, huh?” he asks, his foot dancing along the rhythm of a silent song you probably don’t know. “Pretty boys? Sorry, devastatingly pretty boys?”

“I don’t have a type,” you counter, ignoring his jab.

“Sure you do.”

“I seriously don’t.”

“Everyone has a type, though.”

“Not me.”

Kiba falls silent for a moment as he stares into the fire. You pass the time by watching the flames dance across his cheekbones; along the dangerously sharp line that is his jaw. His eyelashes are thick and long, and the curve of his nose is delicate and slightly upturned at the end.

He looks like he’s still deep in thought by the time he finally says, “Well, maybe you just haven’t found it yet. Your type, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you reply, unable to stop staring at his side profile. “Maybe.”

Or maybe, just maybe, your type is right in front of your nose.

———

What you also learn after stomping out the campfire and clambering inside the tent that night, is that even though you’ve slept in the same bed countless of times before, the entire ordeal is much different now that your best friend has gotten bigger.

Because instead of laying beside you like he used to do back in the day when you were kids, Kiba somehow ends up fully surrounding you this time.

He’s everywhere all at once, his presence and that warm amber scent filling every last inch of the small tent you’re both currently residing in. Being so close to him, practically wrapped in his embrace and with your back firmly pressed against his chest, feels oddly familiar even if it’s currently being executed for the sole purpose of keeping you warm throughout the night.

But it’s not quite the same, now that you’re adults, now is it?

It’s almost… inappropriate. In some way at least.

“Should’ve brought warmer clothes with ya, bunny,” he mumbles at some point, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath brushing the back of your neck. “You’re practically shiverin’.”

His drawl — even more prominent now that you think he’s half-asleep — makes your blood want to boil, and not out of anger. He talks to you like he’s trying to get into your panties, but you know that that’s not the case.

He’s made it pretty fucking clear that he wants nothing to do with you with the whole ‘being too upfront’ situation earlier, after all.

So you take a deep breath to calm yourself — and hopefully whisk the confusing thoughts away that are doing more harm than good — before you murmur, “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

He chuckles as he gives your stomach a single stroke, the sound lazy and laid-back just like the movement is. “Mm… I believe it’s mine.”

“No shit.” You sigh as you curl yourself tighter and shift even closer to his chest that is providing you with all this heavenly warmth you simply can’t get enough of. “God, I can’t believe that I’ve let you talk me into going camping in just my leggings and an old hoodie… I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

“Hey, now,” he objects, “you can trust me. I just forgot that regular humans can’t handle the cold as well as I can.”

“If I could trust you, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off in the middle of the woods right now, Kiba!” You whine, annoyed. “Ugh, you’re always so reckless and never stop to think things through. Nothing’s changed.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” he mutters into the dark, lips a firm line of seriousness. He always finds you so cute whenever you get pissy and say his name like that, but something with your sentence doesn’t sit right with him this time. “But I’m trying to fix it, aren’t I?”

“Well, so far you’re not doing that good of a job,” you pout in answer. “I’m still cold.”

Silence settles between you for a couple of moments. The only sound you can hear, or should you rather say feel, is the strong beating of his heart as it drums against your spine.

It turns a bit erratic by the time he says, “I’ve got an idea.”

You roll over to look at him. “What kind of idea?”

“Hear me out,” he says. “How about you take off your—”

Nearly choking on your own saliva, you try to ignore the way his quickening pulse makes your tummy tighten as you rush to cut him off with a high-pitched, “No!”

“Just hear me out, will ya?” Kiba’s voice fades into nothing as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He’s mumbling as he says, “If you get undressed, it’ll be easier to—”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope,” you squeak out, quickly shaking your head, making him pull back slightly. “Absolutely not.”

“But you didn’t even let me finish!”

“And I don’t need to, because I know exactly where this is going,” you chide, brow furrowing so prominently that there’s a small v etching itself into your forehead, now. “I am not getting naked with you under the pretense of sharing body heat.”

No way in hell are you about to fall for one of his jokes again. They just leave you hanging in the end, looking desperate.

“Oh, c’mon; why not?” he says, voice so genuinely curious that it almost makes him sound innocent and free from any intent to scheme whatsoever. His fingers dig deeper into your hoodie as he adds, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t already seen all your bits and pieces before.”

You push away from him so that you can face him instead, supporting yourself with the help of your palms. The inside of the tent is dark, so dark that you can barely see the outline of him, but you just know that he’s smiling; the little shit.

“Those bits and pieces, as you’ve so kindly called them, have changed a lot since we’ve last shared a kiddie pool, Ki,” you mumble, feeling heat growing up your neck and down your middle. It takes all the effort in the world to not let it slip to that tingly place between your legs, especially because there’s a calm rumble of a laugh thundering inside his chest, now.

“It’ll warm you up faster,” he pushes. “That’s all I want, I swear.”

“No thanks,” you refuse, fighting the urge to not shrivel up and simply die from embarrassment. “I’m perfectly content with waiting for your wolfy heat to reach me through the many, many layers of our clothes.”

“You sure?” he asks. “‘Cause it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yep.”

“Absolutely sure?”

“Yes!” You squeeze his arm, digging your nails into his dark green hoodie as if in warning before you turn your back towards him again and shuffle closer. “Now shut up and go to sleep already.”

“‘Kay,” he relents at long last, sighing. “Suit yourself.”

“I sure plan to, thank you very much!”

“Aha.”

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as he settles back into the folds of your unzipped sleeping bags that you’ve overlapped just so that you can be conjoined together into a mess of limbs. And as a result, the silence to follow is so heavy. It succeeds in making you jittery as hell, as if the chill didn’t help with that already.

“Stop moving around so much, I’m tryin’ to sleep,” he fusses by the time it’s your third time switching positions and pushing further up against him. Unlike before, he sounds like he’s actually agitated now.

“I can’t help it if I’m cold,” you whine, rubbing your feet against his calves.

The feeling of your socks gaining friction against his sweatpants is nice for you from the way it steadily creates warmth, however for Kiba it’s an annoyance that seemingly has no end.

It’s the reason as to why his tone comes across as an irked hiss when he says, “Yeah, well, that’s not my problem, now is it?”

“But it is,” you reply, still running the soles of your feet up and down his legs. “You were the one who kept on saying that a hoodie would be just fine to wear.”

“No, I– Can you stop doing that already?!” He grunts, poking you in the side and causing you to jump. “You know damn well how much the whole feet thing pisses me off.”

“Well, wanna know what pisses me off?”

“What?”

“Being so cold that my teeth are practically chattering.”

“All right, that’s it.”

Your breathing staggers in the back of your throat as you watch him sit up so that he can start taking his hoodie off. He reaches for the back of it, strong back flexing as he pulls it over his head and throws it into one corner that’s to your left.

The white t-shirt he wears underneath gets tugged along, riding up his spine slightly. And goddammit, it’s hard not to ogle at him; hard not to leer at all the tight, defined lines of muscle paired with the contrasting smoothness of tan skin, at how his dark hair tickles the nape of his neck now that it’s all ruffled.

But maybe if you’re sneaky with it, he won’t be able to tell? And besides, it’s pretty dark anyway and—

“Stop staring,” he says like he’s reading your mind. “There’s drool drippin’ at the corner of your mouth already.”

You gulp in response to being caught by his exceptional night vision. The sound is loud and embarrassing as it travels down your throat, at least that’s what you’re thinking.

“I wasn’t— God, you’re so pretentious,” you manage to let out. “I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing, you prick.”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting undressed,” he replies casually as he repeats the same set of movements and takes his T-shirt off as well. “And judging by how much you’re complaining about the cold, I suggest you do the same before you freeze to death.”

You bite into the inside of your cheek to stop your upper lip from trembling with stress. “I already told you that I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Something changes inside him at your denial. It makes him sound more tense as he says, “Can you please stop making a fuss for once and just do it?”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No, Kiba.”

“Fine, then freeze,” he quips, suddenly snappier than usual. His blood feels like it’s simmering. Wait, has it always been this hot in here?

Upset, cold and sticky, flashes throughout your chest at his seemingly careless words. “Okay, maybe I will.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

You glare at each other, fire and ice present in a single look.

“For fuck’s sake,” he says, trying to tame the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek that just won’t go away now. “Why do you gotta be so stubborn all the time? It’s like you’re actively searching for reasons to fight with me every chance you get.”

“That’s not true. You just don’t like it when I don’t comply with what you want,” you spit back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re the stubborn one.”

Another beat of silence passes between you and he uses it to inhale a deep breath and exhale it out just as slowly. It looks like he’s trying to calm himself, fighting every urge not to snap at you again.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he counters finally, his features unbearably tight. “I want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

“Oh, please.” You force out a laugh that doesn’t come from the heart. “As if you know what’s best for me.”

“And you do?” He looks at you, brows raised in challenge. “‘Cause how the hell is getting sick just because you’re too big of a pussy to take your shirt off the thing that’s best for you?”

Your toes start to curl with irritation under the layer of the sleeping bag you’re still tucked into. “I’d rather be a pussy any day, than an obsessively controlling alpha asshole who can’t take a no for an answer.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from the control freak herself,” he says, nearly copying the same bitter laugh you’ve let out earlier. “You’re talking as if you don’t start acting batshit crazy whenever a single thing doesn’t go the way you imagined it to go.”

How on earth did this turn into an actual argument so out of the blue? Is he actually that irritated that you refuse to undress? Or is there something else to blame for all of this?

Either way, things are escalating fast.

Your face feels hot from all the mixed emotions you’re experiencing as you draw your blade and stick it into the place where you know it hurts him the most because he’s done the same to you, “I might be a control freak… You’re just a freak.”

“You wanna talk to me about being a freak?” He laughs again, quieter this time but the sound is cold and sharp as ice. “‘Cause how can you call me that, if back when I met you, no one could even stand the sight of you!”

He sucks in one breath, two, three before he continues, unable to stop, “No one could even talk to you. Do you remember that? Not until I stepped in, at least. So call me a freak all you want if it makes you feel any better, princess, but at the end of the day, I was still the one who put you out there while all you did was feel sorry for yourself.”

“You didn’t do shit!” The anger that drops upon your unsuspecting mind is like a thick, red fog. It makes your voice rise higher as you say, “All you’ve been doing for all these years, is breathing down my neck!”

“It’s not like I fucking chose to do that, goddammit!” Kiba snaps, voice suddenly gruff, heart pounding. His pulse feels like it’s racketing behind his teeth as he grits them so hard it makes his jaw hurt. “I mean, do you actually think that I want to spend the rest of my life wondering where the fuck you are and what you’re doing, when you can’t even put in the effort to text me back? Do you think that I want to keep being your friend, when you don’t even—”

“I didn’t ask you to!” You push forward, getting all up into his face as hurt sears the inside of your chest, making it heavy. “I didn’t ask you to be my friend, I didn’t ask you to keep trying to stay in touch, I didn’t ask you to keep monitoring me like some fucking psycho! I didn’t ask you to do any of those things.”

“You not asking for it is not the fucking issue, all right!” His face contorts into a look of prominent displeasure, the bridge of his nose scrunching. It’s clear how much you’re pissing him off; it’s making him say things he otherwise wouldn’t.

“Then tell me what the issue is!” You inhale, your own breathing quick and unfulfilling from how emotional you’re getting. It feels like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs no matter how hard you try. “Enlighten me, Kiba, please! Because quite frankly, I have no freaking clue what you’re going on about right now.”

“The issue,” he finally says, eyes bleary with fury and disdain, “is that I’m stuck with you. And guess what, you get to leave. I can’t. You get to fuck off to the other side of the goddamn country completely unfazed after every summer, and I can’t despite trying, because I’m feeling every mile of distance that separates me from you and it makes me fucking sick!”

The words are like a waterfall to spill from his mouth, he can’t stop them. “You get to meet new people, you get to befriend them and sleep with them and love them, all while every. Single. One of my relationships falls apart because I’m stuck thinking about you, and only you. I mean Jesus fucking Christ, I’m thinking about you whenever I go to sleep, when I go to the gym, when I go to work… I was even thinking about you every time I fucked my girlfriend, who is now my ex, thanks to you!”

He ceases, breathing hard through his nose now, opening his mouth to say something, then thinking better of it.

Meanwhile, every single muscle in your body goes weak, almost numb. His stare is feverish and remains glued to your face; it makes you feel like you’ll drop dead any second now despite the fact that your stomach is doing cartwheels and high-pitched white noise progressively fills your ears.

If there wasn’t a humongous lump jammed inside your throat, you’d perhaps be able to tell how dry your mouth has turned all of a sudden.

But you don’t. So it’s no wonder why your voice cracks as you at long last look at your childhood best friend, the person you’ve always trusted the most, and ask, “So, you’re in love with me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Hah,” he snorts, the sound completely unenthusiastic. “I wish it was that simple.”

“Then what else is there?”

“I’m bonded to ya, sweetheart.” His stare hardens. “You’re my mate. Always have been, always will be. Congrats.”

Thump, thump, thump!

“Mate?” Your heart nearly breaks your ribcage in half from how intensely it starts to pound at the word. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means… It means that I’ve longed for you ever since the first day I saw you, okay? God.” He groans, running his hand down his cheek, then the side of his neck. His skin has become so slick with sweat that it causes his fingers to glide. “And it means that I’ll still long for you no matter what you do, or how far away you go, or who you end up with... You’re a part of me. And I can’t do shit about it.”

His words make your head swim. It’s hard to concentrate because of it, the rising nausea only making things worse, but you still manage enough willpower to ask, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t—...” He inhales a long breath again, only one this time. And pulls a face you can’t read. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured by it… Like you were obligated to be with me or something, just ‘cause I was having a bad time.”

“So instead you decided to be my friend for all these years? So that I could have my chance at freedom and you’d still have a reason to be near me?” Disappointment flashes throughout your brain like lightning. You feel played. “Does that mean that our entire friendship was, like… just some ploy to help you get closer to me or whatever?”

“Fuck no.” His shoulders slump as he practically succumbs to the weight of his own body. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden. “The bond had nothing to do with that; well, maybe at the start, but definitely not afterwards. I was your friend because you were actually cool to hang out with, despite being kind of a dork. Even if you were my mate, you were still smart, and nice, and… and…”

And it’s only then, when you close the gap between yourself and him to catch him, that you realize how high his body temperature has gotten. How his skin feels like it’s blazing underneath the tips of your fingers when you press your hand to his chest on pure instinct. How the blush that tints his cheeks is stark red; intense enough to even reach the tips of his ears and the base of his neck.

His blood has always run hot, you know that. But never like this.

Never like this.

It’s even worse than back when he was ‘sick’.

“Shit… Are you feeling okay? You’re burning up all of a sudden. Like, even more than usual.” Your voice trembles on the words as you speak, low and worried. It’s like the entire argument is forgotten in a blink of an eye just because you’re sensing that something isn’t right with him.

“No.” Much to your surprise, Kiba gives you a hard smile when you look up into his face. It’s covered with a thick coat of sweat again even if he had wiped it away just minutes before. “I’m not okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think…” He pauses, letting out a pained sound that’s almost like a mix between a grunt and a whimper when you cup his face with your hands. “I think that I’m slipping into rut.”

“Rut?” You blink when he takes your hands into his own and hurriedly pries them away from his face, your eyelashes batting against your cheeks. The sudden rush of adrenaline that courses your veins when he starts to let you go makes you feel like you’re hollow inside.

So you cling onto his hands. If anything, they’re keeping you warm.

He breathes in again, every breath strained. “You need to stop touching me. It’s making it worse.”

Your brain feels like it’s turned to mush all of a sudden. All you can do is do as he says and whisper, “Oh. Y-yes, okay. Okay.”

“Fuck.” He scrubs his hand over his face for what must be the third time now, continuously wiping the liquid salt that just won’t stop oozing out of his pores. “Fuck. This is so fucked.”

Your eyes feel like they’re bulging from how concerned you are. His constant swearing isn’t helping the situation. “What is?”

“This whole night. Everything.” He looks away, clearly ashamed. Parts his lips so that he can breathe through his mouth instead of his nose, but it just makes him taste you on the flat of his tongue instead. Drool seeps as a result. “I wasn’t even supposed to go into rut for the next couple of weeks at least, maybe even a month from now... I think your scent might have triggered it.”

After all, you’re sweet as summer honey. Honey made just for him.

And being this sweet, it’s no wonder that he’d subconsciously lured you out into the forest and away from other people under the pretense of catching up. No wonder that he had pinned you down with a single look in the middle of a grocery store as soon as you showed even the slightest hint of requited feelings. That he’d been getting impatient, had been getting jealous at the mention of other partners, had even nearly tried manipulating you into getting naked with him — something he’d never thought he’d sink so low to, for fuck’s sake.

All while the rut just stacked one symptom on top of the other.

This entire trip, every single one of his actions, every word, every look had been mere preying. Mere circling whilst getting ready to go in for the kill. After all, you’ve been gone for years, leaving him stranded. Catching a mere whiff of your scent — of his mate’s scent — after such a long time had been like an awakening for the beast within; a push for it to take over.

And that beast is ready to come out now. It’ll claw a way out of him if need be. He didn’t even realize it until now.

Utterly blinded by instinct, he’d been played for a fool by his own psyche.

“Kiba?” you whisper his name cautiously, pupils still big as saucers as you repeat, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He exhales shakily, ignoring your question. “I-I need to get away from you before I—”

“What? You can’t leave me here! What the fuck,” you stammer out, eyes opening even wider in the dark. Ignoring his warnings, you clutch onto him again because he’s simply your only pillar right now. Rut or no rut. Whatever that means.

“Well, I can’t stay here,” he snaps in answer and now you can hear the mumble appearing between each word. His already humanly-questionable incisors are growing elongated now, turning into fangs and changing his pattern of speech. “You have no fucking idea how aggressive I get if I don’t get what I want during a rut; what you saw earlier wasn’t even the half of it. And I can’t... I won’t let you see me like that. I don’t want you to think—”

“I won’t think anything of you, I promise! Just… just please don’t leave me here. Please,” you quickly blabber out even if you’re not sure who the words are meant for; you or him. “Just tell me what you need.”

“No way.” He’s practically panting, every breath still continuing to be laboured as he says, “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Just say it.”

“It’s so fucking embarrassing, though.”

“Goddammit, spit it out already!”

“I—” He falters, huffing, only stressing you out further until he finally says, “I need to cum.”

The white noise that had just eased a bit inside your ears immediately gets replaced by the deafening ringing of your pulse. Did you just hear that right?

“H-Huh?” is all you can let out as a result.

“I need to cum to make the rut ease up,” he explains impatiently, voice breathless, hoarse. He looks at you, the vein in his neck bulging as his jaw clicks into place again. “Fucking hell… M’sorry, I’m so sorry… for everything. You don’t gotta do anything if you don’t wanna, I’d never force you but— fuck, it’s so fucking hot in here. I can’t breathe.”

The moment you see him start losing his composure again is the moment that you spring into action.

“Here, let’s just… take it easy for a bit.” You blink profusely, trying to gain control of the situation as you ease him onto the pile of sleeping bags. “Breathe in nice and slow, yeah?”

“No,” he grunts out, tensing again in an instant. “That makes it worse.”

“Oh, right. Right. Sorry.”

Moments pass, all of them feeling like ages even if it’s only a second or two, perhaps three. You spend them all by watching him like a shark in water, not sounding quite like yourself as you force yourself to step out of your comfort zone for once and utter, “Let me help you.”

“What?”

“Let me help you with the whole… uh.” Your rare, spontaneous decision makes your head want to hurt from all the anxiety it’s causing. “Cumming part, I mean.”

“No.” His cheeks glow red as he swallows hard. “You seriously don’t gotta. Like I said, I’d never—”

“I know,” you cut in, giving him a look of what you hope looks like determination instead of pure anxiety. “I know you wouldn’t. Besides, there’s no need for that because I want to, okay?”

Kiba frowns, looking the most exasperated you’ve ever seen him be. It makes his voice unusually quiet and small as he whispers, “Why would you?”

“Want that?”

“Yes.”

“I want to because you’re my friend,” you say and it’s the truth. “And I don’t care what it is that we gotta do to make you feel all right again, I’ll always help you out because of that, okay?”

“But I’m a shitty friend. I don’t deserve you helping me out; I don’t deserve you,” he counters. “I mean, for fuck’s sake… Look at the shitshow that I dragged you into just now.”

“You made it sound like you didn’t know this would happen, though,” you argue back, growing more backbone with your tone. “Did I understand that right?”

His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek, instantly drawing blood from how sharper they are than they used to be. He hisses, licking the now aching spot, tasting iron. “Yes.”

“Okay, then let me help you,” you try again, unrecognized greed and the bond you can’t feel not as nearly as deep as him pushing you forward hand in hand. “Yeah?”

Kiba looks at you for a long while. His eyes have gotten so dark that they look like they could absorb you whole when he finally opens his mouth to say, “Yeah.” His eyelids flutter shut for a brief second as he shakes his head, as if chasing the doubt away. “Yeah, all right.”

With his approval acquired, the couple of seconds to follow are like a blur. You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence comes from as you coax him to lay on his back, but you’re happy it’s there because it keeps your hands somewhat from shaking.

“Come to think of it, maybe we shouldn’t—” He stiffens, the words catching in his throat from the way his cock automatically starts to twitch in his sweats because of the way your unsure touch travels down his stomach, now.

His dark happy trail tickles the tips of your fingers, caramel skin still so hot that you’re surprised he’s still conscious and capable of forming thoughts.

“It’s okay, shh,” you soothe him even if your heart feels like it’s climbed up your throat again when he immediately pushes himself up with the help of his elbows so that he can look at you. You’re both trying so hard to not stare at the obvious tent in his pants. “I’ll, um… I-I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Your best friend’s chest heaves with every fast breath. All he can do is nod, the discomfort obvious as he says, “Okay.”

God, he sounds so uncomfortable but desperate for it at the same time. You force yourself not to look at him as you kneel beside him, feeling sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. Just a little while ago you were cold. Now, you’re burning up from how quickly he’s warming up the small space.

“Will, like, a handjob be enough…?” This entire thing is insane. Surreal.

You’ve gone from zero to a hundred just because he’ll go off the rails otherwise.

“I, uh, I think so?” His fingers curl, fisting the smooth material of the sleeping bag. He clutches it so tightly that it makes his knuckles turn white as he adds, “I mean, that’s what I do when I’m alone.”

“You jerk off during a rut?” The image of him stroking himself makes your stomach tighten and your throat turn scratchy.

“So many times. Ugh.” Heat spreads throughout your body at the groan he lets out, but it also warms his face into an even deeper shade of red. Talking about these things might be embarrassing right now, but it eases the tension. So he continues, “Sometimes I even have to take a couple days off work just so I can keep fuckin’ my fist, hah.”

The look on your face makes him inhale a sharp breath through gritted teeth.

“Too much?” he asks, that same look of dread overtaking his features once more.

“No, no,” you reply hurriedly, running two now-trembling fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants. The way his toned stomach trembles in response turns your mouth painfully dry all over again. “I just… I thought you’d rather venture out to find somebody to sleep with during a time like that. So that you can, you know… make it pass quicker or something.”

“Oh. Well, I did try to do that. But it didn’t go so well,” he answers, staring at every movement your hand makes with heavy eyelids. “Here, lemme… help you out ‘cause we gotta speed things up a bit. I’m so sorry… God.”

Your breath hitches when his too-warm hand cups your smaller one and wraps it around the prominent bulge in his sweatpants without any sort of hesitance, but with palpable urgency instead.

He curls your fingers around the ridge of his clothed cock until you can feel out the shape of it. And then he stills completely, giving you time to pull back if you change your mind about the entire thing despite that every cell of him wants to roar.

But you never do.

No, instead all you do is succumb to the moment and start to stroke him the way he’s shown you — slowly at first.

“Fuck, okay… That’s it,” he whispers, broad shoulders tensing at the touch. His fingers twitch, tightening their grip on the sleeping bag.

The praise is like a flame and it licks your skin. Feeling how big he is getting under the cotton now, how fucking huge he’s growing, makes your saliva thick and your voice wobbly as you whisper, “Like that?”

“Mhmm, yeah.” He sighs before yet another curse spills past his parted lips. There’s drool gathering on the surface of his sharp fangs by the time he urges you on. When he swallows it, it’s audible.

Somehow, it succeeds in making you feel better, more relaxed. The fact that he’s just as nervous as you are helps.

So you let your lips quirk upwards briefly as you say, “Now you’re the one that’s got drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He huffs a laugh. “This whole thing is pretty new to me. Makes my body act all sorts of weird.”

You blink. “A handjob is new to you?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his lap with a blush so prominent that it makes his entire face tingle. “No, I meant like a mate’s touch.”

“Oh.” You offer him a nervous smile, readjusting yourself on your legs. “Well, um… enjoy it while it lasts, hah?”

Kiba doesn’t say anything in answer. Neither do you. Maybe he’s afraid of what this will mean for your friendship afterwards. Maybe you both are. But with each passing minute, you slowly ease yourself into your sinful ministrations. Your strokes turn less rigid, the hesitance replaced with cautious intent, but intent nevertheless.

The waistband of his sweatpants gradually slips lower and lower down his hips as you keep going. A glob of your saliva gets involved; transferring from your pursed lips, to your palm, to his cock that has finally been freed from the too-tight confines of his clothes and is now being spoiled by skin on skin contact.

Even if Kiba remains in his — mostly — human form, you soon learn that werewolf cock is vastly different from a human one. In the dark, you can’t see it quite well, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel the difference.

It’s bigger, harder, hotter to the touch than any you’ve previously had. It throbs and practically leaks pre-cum, nearly making you think that you didn’t even have to spit into your palm in the first place. In fact, it’s so lubed up that there are wet, almost squishy noises by the time his hips start to buck upwards and he starts fucking your fist.

You’re hovering over him, your face merely inches away from his own from how close you’ve gotten during the entire ordeal. If you thought he was panting before, now he’s nearly hyperventilating as he rasps, “F-fuck, mm… faster. Go faster, bunny. It feels s’good.”

His voice has turned into a growl of some kind; it’s the lewdest you’ve ever heard him speak. Because even with all the dirty jokes, and the questionable looks, and the sometimes too-long hugs which you’ve exchanged throughout the years, Kiba has always, always been respectful of your boundaries and limits.

But he really pushes that limit, really steps on that already thin line when he suddenly rests his forehead against your own and asks, “Are you gonna let me kiss you?”

Your thoughts turn fuzzy in an instant at the request, as well as at the nearly non-existent proximity. This isn’t about helping him out anymore, this is about feelings. Feelings that you’re very much still trying to understand.

And feelings are dangerous, when you know that being friends is best for you. After all, you’re so different from each other — polar opposites. But you feel the invisible link that connects you to him now a bit better than you did before, feel it tugging you towards him; closer and closer, even if you’re merely human. Every touch makes it stronger and alters your brain chemistry, alters the way you see him.

It feels like you’re gradually starting to share every breath, like your heartbeats are aligning and will keep on aligning all until they’ll start to beat as one. Like you’re fusing together; he’s becoming you at the same time you’re becoming him.

You have no clue how he’s managed to endure all of this for such a long time, surely feeling it at least ten times stronger than you do. And in a way, it’s scary. All these emotions are making you feel overwhelmed and the worst part is that they’re not nearly as deep yet as his are.

You stare at him. He stares right back with dark eyes full of what you think is good intention.

Your lips quiver as you whisper, “Do you think kissing is a good idea?”

“It’s just a couple of kisses, bunny,” he answers way too fast, quietly whimpering when your thumb swipes over his sensitive cockhead, turning tacky because of the bead of pre-cum there. He’s so needy that he feels like it’s going to kill him. The rut has outright cooked his brain by now, and that makes him pushy — he’s warned you about it. “It’s not like it’s gonna change anything between us.”

You look at him again, still sceptic. Your grip around his cock tightens as you think. “I dunno...”

“C’mon. Please, please, please,” he urges, feeling even more hot and bothered and desperate at how godly it feels when you stroke his cock. Up and down, up and down, up and down — he’s going to go batshit crazy. “Didn’t you tell me that you were gonna be a bit more spontaneous tonight? Hmm?”

You stare at him from underneath your lashes, feeling just a little less doubtful from how he pleads for it. Despite being perplexed about the entire situation, his uncharacteristic rambling and babbling and the constant need to challenge you proves to be like a push forward that you need in order to press your lips against his own.

So you gather your courage and lean in. And of course, he meets you halfway in an instant — even faster than that.

The kiss itself is messy when you connect. It’s more so a clash of teeth and swapping of runny saliva, than it is a loving peck. He craves for you so bad that before you can even take a breath in, he’s nudging your bottom lip with his tongue, trying to make you part your lips a fraction wider; to part just enough for him to slip his tongue inside.

You let out a little ‘mmph!’ sound at how intense he is with it and how he cups one side of your face with his hand, literally forcing you to open up for him by pressing his thumb underneath your jaw.

“Hey—”

And it’s the opening he’s been looking for. He pushes his tongue inside, gliding it over your front teeth, tasting the roof of your mouth, exploring it like he’ll never get another chance to do so again — perhaps he won’t, who knows?

So he hits you like a tidal wave and kisses you like he’s planning to eat you — it’s riveting as much as it is intimidating. Spit gets swapped with each sloppy kiss that gets shared between you now, some of it bridging the small gap between your mouths whenever you push him back just enough to come back for air. His large canine teeth bump against your own normal-sized ones. The occasional click! is enough to make your blood run hot.

And surprisingly, in the midst of all this chaos, you realize that kissing him feels right. It’s by no means romantic or a profession of love, but it is natural and synchronized in its own peculiar way. Somehow, it even makes sense. Like parts are connecting, like the image is getting clearer, like puzzle pieces are falling into place.

All those feelings that you’ve shoved down and blinded yourself from for literal years are rushing to the surface now. You feel like you’re going to burst.

In a way, Kiba feels the same.

“I, ah… I think m’gonna cum soon... Kissing you feels so hot.” He groans when he feels you falter, body tensing at how low his voice has gotten. His cock is nearly pulsating in your palm by now and he has to remind you to continue by helping you out with his own hand. “Fuck, keep goin’, keep goin’. Don’t stop now; I didn’t tell ya to stop, did I?”

Flustered and incredibly overwhelmed by everything that is happening, you do as he says because following orders — even frantic, growly ones — is familiar and comforting as a result.

You let him sloppily fuck your fist as you tighten the hold of your fingers and loosen your wrist so that he can get what he needs to bring himself to his finish. All while he’s practically shoving his tongue down your throat, kissing you with such a burning passion that it feels like you’ll be engulfed in flames and turned into ashes any second now.

Heat steadily builds up within Kiba’s stomach. Sweat pours out of every pore all over again, making his hair stick to his forehead. His toes curl, his balls tighten. His throat gets all scratchy and dry. His brow furrows so deeply that it gives him a headache as he squeezes his eyes shut and just feels.

“Yeah… Just a lil’— fuck, yes, yes…!”

You go faster. And when he finally does tip over the edge and cums, it’s insane.

His movements spasm, broad shoulders tense up to the point of pain. And then he’s literally growling into your mouth; making your lips and the inside of your throat vibrate as he becomes undone.

Your heart stutters at the sound. And when you feel his warm, sticky seed steadily fill your hand, it begins to dance inside your chest.

After all, there’s a literal fuckload of it, perhaps even more. His release dribbles past your knuckles and soils his sweatpants. It gushes out of him, ropes of it, all tacky and cloudy white and potent. You’ve never seen a man produce so much cum, especially not because of you.

The sight, no, the feel of it makes you rub your thighs together as you squeeze every last droplet out of him. Before you know it, there’s a tingly sensation growing in intensity between your legs. A certain kind of heat pooling at the apex of your thighs, a certain kind of stickiness that causes your underwear to cling to your most private part.

Unsure of the reason as to why his pleasure affects you so strongly, the presence of your sudden arousal takes you by surprise and thus only makes you even more nervous as your core temperature scales higher, higher, higher.

You flinch when he kisses the corner of your swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Your cheek. Your neck. And it’s in that spot, where the curve of your shoulder starts, that he finally rests his sweat-riddled forehead and croaks out a very exhausted and very grateful, “Thank you.”

Kiba sags before you can reply, resting a great part of his weight against you and nearly making you stumble backwards because of it. Despite all of the confusion that riddles your mind at that moment, you can’t help but simply hold your best friend upright, repeatedly weaving your clean fingers through his now-damp hair in meek attempt of soothing him.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. Who knew you had such an effect on him? Or he on you? “You’re okay. I-I mean, you’re messy, but you’re okay.”

Long moments pass. It’s hard to tell in the dark how much time has passed exactly when your phone is nowhere to be seen, but judging by how your fingers are still tacky with his now mostly dried up release, it must have been a couple of minutes at least.

“God, I didn’t think there'd be so much cum, heh... My bad,” he grunts at some point, pulling you out of your thoughts with the way he rubs the sweat on his forehead into your hoodie. Before you can scold him for it, he’s already back to burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and trying to tame his breaths.

His exhales are warm and ticklish. They make you snicker as you try to push away from him, hiding the sensitive spot with the help of your chin. “What’re you doing?”

“Sniffin’ you,” he answers with a matter-of-fact tone, as if it’s the most normal thing for a person to do.

“Well, stop it! I already told you that it’s weird back at the store.”

“Ahh, but you smell so good.”

Another smile kicks the corners of your lips upward. You’ve always liked the little compliments he gives you. This time it’s no different. “Do I, now?”

“Mhmm,” he nearly purrs, nuzzling his nose even further into your neck until he’s got it practically smushed against your pulse point, causing it to wrinkle slightly at the bridge. “It’s sweeter than usual though, your scent. How are you feelin’?”

Ba-dum.

“Oh, you know,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. Can he tell what you’re experiencing? “A bit overwhelmed by everything that’s happened just now, but I’m fine otherwise... I think.”

A little moment of silence ensues. You’re just about to tease him and ask if he’s done interrogating you when he rasps, “You’re sure? ‘Cause I can definitely smell something other than ‘fine’ and ‘overwhelmed’.”

He sounds different again. More gruff. More tense. More demanding of an answer.

It makes you feel cornered all of a sudden.

Before you can move, he pulls back just enough to press the side of his face against your own as he waits for your answer; perhaps giving you the comfort of avoiding eye contact, perhaps just to feel more physical touch — you don’t know.

So, you’re cheek to cheek, now. Chest to chest. Muscle to muscle. The distance between you is nearly non-existent as you each stare at opposite corners of the tent.

His stubble scrapes your face. Wasn’t he clean-shaven just this morning?

Your breath warms his shoulder as he utters, “Well?”

“Yeah,” you answer as the slight prickle in your cheek yanks you back from the haze that is your thought process. Your voice is once again as wobbly as your legs are getting. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close. “I’m sure.”

“‘Kay,” he trails off, still not convinced. “How ‘bout…”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kiba leans down to press his lips to your neck again and leaves another tender kiss there, sending shivers down your spine. “Now?”

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum!

You’re quiet, but your fingers tangle into his dark hair as you latch onto him for support in a mere instant, even you’re surprised by it. The way you can feel his sharp canines grazing your throat is exhilarating. Brain working purely on autopilot, you tug at the roots at the back of his head the same moment as your eyelids flutter shut. You simply can’t help yourself.

Perhaps this bond that he’s been telling you about isn’t something only he can experience, after all.

“And now…?” he utters so softly that you can barely hear him over the sound of your quickening pulse. His hand glides from between your shoulder blades, down to the small of your back and goddammit, his palm is so broad; it’s almost comical how big of a portion of you it manages to cover. “How do you feel now?”

“Good. I feel… good,” is all you can answer with this time. Your voice sounds so small as his touch travels over the curve of your ass and rounds the corner by landing on the front of your thigh instead.

You don’t fail to notice the way his calloused fingertips start to glide upwards now that they’re on your leg. The claws, that must have replaced his nails at some point when you weren’t paying that much attention, drag against the stretchy material of your leggings; playful, taunting.

It’s all so slow. Deliberate.

The sudden burst of adrenaline that rushes through your veins and nestles deep inside your belly makes you fidgety, but he keeps you nice and steady by holding the side of your head with his other hand.

Those claws are at your inner thigh now, only inching higher.

Higher, higher, higher.

And his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers a what you could only call an exceptionally needy, “Yeah?”

“Yea-ah!” A little gasp that’s more of a moan than anything else slips out from the way he unexpectedly cups your clothed pussy into the palm of his hand.

“Scent doesn’t lie, bunny,” he says, chuckling darkly. “You should keep that in mind when you’re around someone like me, y’know.”

Shit. You’re in for it now, aren’t you? His touch is scorching hot again even through the two layers of clothes that separates you from him.

It only spurs you into action, almost making you start to grind against him as you arch your back and press yourself closer.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum!

Your heart feels like it’s on the verge of giving out.

“We should stop, K-Ki—” You don’t succeed in saying his name fully when he applies more pressure to make you reconsider.

The heel of his palm presses right against your clit this time. Breathless and unsure if it’s done on purpose or merely by some lucky accident, you jolt, trying to squeeze your thighs together.

He catches you when you sag against him, much like you’ve previously done when he had been the one struggling to stay upright. And surprise, surprise — he’s hard all over again. Ready to go for round two, his cock starts poking your thigh whenever you move, leaving little splotches of sticky pre-cum there.

It causes a second heatwave to hit you as filthy thoughts begin flooding your mind. Pussy dripping at the mere idea of him attempting to push that fat, monstrous cock inside you, you let out a little sound of panic when he presses his finger right on the spot where your tight little hole is hiding under the leggings.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” You can’t see it, but he smirks into the dark; fangs glinting with the wolfish grin that’s gotten so conceited that it hurts. “Look at that… Lil’ bunny is getting all worked up from a bit of heavy petting.”

“Am not!” you stammer with feverish need, licking your lips as your nails dig into his scalp and you grab yet another fistful of his chestnut-coloured hair. “Stop teasing me… I-I’m just— Ugh…”

“I’ll stop if you let me take your clothes off already so that I can lick you and fuck you like you obviously wanna be fucked,” he says, rubbing tight little circles right into that little button that makes you feel like there is electricity running through your veins, not blood. “How does that sound? Or are you just gonna keep grindin’ that little pussy of yours into my hand for the rest of the night?”

Before you can answer, he slides up and down your slit, making your cunt eat up your underwear and leggings, shaping it out. Your knees buckle as you rest all of your weight against him, trusting him that he’ll hold you upright.

But the problem is that he doesn’t. Instead, Kiba uses the hand that he’s holding the side of your head with to help lay you down.

Until you’re right underneath him.

And just like that, he’s on top of you, breathing in your scent with almost a sense of urgency whilst his hand still keeps on rubbing that overwhelmingly sensitive spot between your legs. Keeps on provoking it and keeps on making you so horny that you’re barely any better than a cat in heat.

With every stroke, he’s making you hot and bothered all over again. Making you buck your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Making you sweat and whine and borderline sniffle as the upcoming tears of pent-up sexual frustration sting your waterline.

You’re about to go batshit crazy if he doesn’t do something other than pet you.

So it’s no wonder that you whimper and allow him to undress you one piece of clothing at a time, until you’ve got nothing else on but your colourful socks and your plain cotton panties are dangling from one ankle. That you let him kiss you down your neck and chest, until he’s nosing his way between your legs and licking you with that inhumanly coarse tongue to his heart’s content.

That you let him feast upon you like a man starved even if he is more monster than man; until your legs are trembling around his head and you’re seeing stars behind closed eyelids. That you let him devour your sweetness and inhale such deep, long breaths of its scent, despite that you’re feeling slightly embarrassed about it after telling him that you’re all ‘sweaty and gross’ down there after the hike, and he’s assured you at least a million times that he likes it even better that way.

And it’s no wonder that you let him spit onto your pussy as he kisses up your thigh and hovers above you, then, before he bends your legs so far back that your knees are nearly touching your ears. That you let him fold you into a mating press and align his cock with your sticky cunt at long last, his fat cockhead prodding at your tight hole that just won’t stop fluttering at even the slightest intrusion.

“Imma pound you s’good. Gonna make you cream on my cock, gonna do all of that nasty shit that I wanted to do to ya for s’long,” he babbles, his stare so ardent that it pierces right through your heart even if he’s not focused at all. The second wave of his rut has already contaminated all his thoughts and consumed him entirely. All he can think about is slamming you to your breaking point.

“Kiba, wa—…. wait,” you mewl, eyes wide open as you stare up at him. With his back hunched and his biceps flexing, every muscle and cord strained to withhold his weight, he’s gotten so big that he can barely fit inside the tent anymore.

How in the hell is he gonna fit inside you?

“Please, I need it. Need it so, so, so bad, fuck,” he drawls almost like he isn’t completely present, his expression all dazed and stupid from how he keeps on staring between your legs. He nudges you again as he says the words, his cockhead catching against your sticky entrance once more, making you squirm. “Your cunt smells so fuckin’ sweet; it’s driving me nuts... I gotta push inside you, bunny, okay? Imma push in.”

You tremble in response, hips wiggling, legs opening a fraction wider to give him even more space because of how persistent he’s getting. When you look up at him through hooded eyelids, all you can see is how his slits for pupils dilate at the sight of the silvery string of arousal that clings to his cock now, connecting him to your cunt.

Your pussy is so wet — it’s practically drooling.

Consequently, it makes him drool, too. Saliva nearly drips down Kiba’s canines all over again.

“Just the tip, okay?” you whisper, trying to calm your heavy-pounding heart.

“Jus’ the tip, yeah,” he murmurs back with that fang-induced mumble, still so pussy drunk that he’s nearly brain-dead. His irises have turned yellow; they glow in the dark as he looks at you and says, “Jus’ the tip and nothin’ else.”

You stare at him with big, watery eyes. “You promise?”

Kiba huffs a laugh despite the fact that he looks like he’s barely keeping himself together. “‘Course I do, sweetheart.”

Hearing him promise, you nod, and thus give him the approval that he’s been practically dying to get. “All right… But go slowly, okay? ‘Cause I’m scared.”

“Slow, gotcha. Gonna go so slow that it won’t hurt one bit.”

With a heartbeat that’s damn well working overtime by now, Kiba softly grunts when he finally presses into you, causing you to instantly flinch and wiggle your hips for a second time to try and accommodate him better.

“Keep still, will ya?” he chides, his patience leaving him for a quick second. “You’re twitchin’ all over the place like you’re an actual rabbit.”

“I’m trying! And shut it.” He keeps on pushing at your fussing, turning your voice higher in pitch as you say, “Shit, shit, shit… I said slowly!”

He grits his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in concentration that he doesn’t have. “This is slow.”

“Well, I-I think that you’re going way too fast.”

“Stop naggin’ me already and relax.”

“Excuse me?!”

Your mouth opens, but before you can even begin unleashing the storm that is your newly-formed fury, he leans down to press his lips against your own like the little shit he is.

Moments pass, he keeps kissing you as a means to distract you from the fact that he’s slowly filling you with his cock. And eventually, with some sweet-talking and plenty of combined effort, your pussy gives in when he adds just a little bit of force to the push, letting him break past that tight ring of muscle that your nerves must be causing.

You’re so tight that it makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand to attention when he finally slips inside, but you’re also so sloppy and dripping wet at the same time that he isn’t worried about it too much.

After all, from the way you push your head back now, pointing your chin upwards and exposing more of your neck that he feels the need to wrap his hand around and stroke it with the help of his thumb, you seem to be enjoying yourself just fine.

Nevertheless, concern — that he feels for you at all times — crosses his tight features. He’s barely holding it together, and here he is; looking out for you as he asks, “You doin’ okay?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” you utter, tensing when his touch moves from your neck down to your tits.

He quirks a brow as he squeezes the fat of your breast and runs his thumb across your nipple this time, making you shudder. “But?”

You give him a pointed look. How can he always tell that there’s something hiding behind the reassurance? “But, you’re just so… big. Concerningly so. I’m worried about how I’m gonna take it all.”

He muses as he mocks the sound of your voice and says, “What happened to ‘just the tip, okay’?”

You huff, pouting. “Don’t make me keep it that way, you prick.”

“Okay, okay, m’sorry,” he says hurriedly, pressing what must be the hundredth kiss onto your lips. “I’ll be good, just don’t make me pull out, please.”

“What about you? Are you doing okay?” you ask, caressing his cheek with your palm. The way he instantly leans further into your touch makes your heart not only dance, but also sing. “I know this must be especially hard for you.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles lamely, convincing neither of you. And then he sighs at the way you roll your eyes at him in answer. “I just… I want—”

“More?” you suggest.

A prominent blush sears his cheeks. Since when did he blush so much? He’s also sweating like crazy all over again as he says, “Yeah.”

“All right.” Carefully, you nod your head yes once more as you remind him, “I’ll give you more. But slowly, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. How he doesn’t puncture the rosy skin with the action, you don’t understand. “I’ll go nice n’ easy on ya. Cross my heart.”

Well, he’ll try at least.

And Kiba does try to go nice and easy, he really does. But it’s hard for him to keep his cool when the beast keeps on howling in his veins and the bond that chains him to you screams at him to brand every last inch of your skin and soul alike.

He’s nearly trembling all over by the time he sinks balls deep into you and his dark pubic hair kisses your clit.

But at long last, you’ve become one.

“Fuck.”

“That feels so—”

“Good. That feels so fuckin’ good, goddamn.”

“I-I’m so… full.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“What d’you think?”

“I think—”

“Woah, look, I’m even makin’ your belly bulge a bit.”

“Ew, ew, ew! That’s so gross.”

“What? No, it ain’t. I actually think it’s kind of cool-lookin’.”

“Stop poking it!”

“Nu-uh.”

Your ankles cross at the middle of his back when he presses his hand to your tummy, colourful socks scraping tan skin. The way you clench around him when he digs his fingers into the bulge makes Kiba wish he had the ability to purr.

“Move,” you squeak out, breath hitching at how the tip of his cock has managed to snuggle right next to your goddamn cervix. “Need you to… move. It’s too much! Kiba, please.”

He tries not to show how happy he is to do as you tell him, but fails with the way his entire face literally lights up as he says, “Like this?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, savoring every last bit of friction he gives you now. The rhythm he’s chosen is surprisingly laggard, even if he looks like he’s just about to start bursting at the seams. “Y-yeah, like that.”

Kiba likes the way you sound when you’ve got something fucking into you at a steady pace, but it’s even better that that something is him. Now that he thinks about it, the tone is pretty similar to the one you used to have after every gym class back in high school.

God, did he like seeing those tight shorts on you every Wednesday. Good memories.

A proper moan — the first amongst many — suddenly leaves your mouth, coaxing him away from his trip down memory lane and urging him to make you keep talking, talking, talking as he asks, “You need me just as much as I need you, don’tcha?”

“Pfsh. I never said… that,” you drawl with a click of a tongue as your breathing picks up. Every time he draws his hips back and pushes them back into you feels like he’s reshaping your entire goddamn cunt. Not an unpleasant sensation necessarily, but it definitely takes some time getting used to.

“‘Kay, but listen to all this noise you’re making now that I’ve stuffed your lil’ bunny cunt full,” he says, his eyes glowing with mischief and that sublime yellow colour. “Bet no other man could make you sound like that, huh?”

They’re lazy but deep, the thrusts. Filled with intent. With arrogance and urgency that hides just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce. They reach parts of you that you’ve never even thought could be touched. They make slick dribble down his balls, until it’s all dripping right onto the sleeping bags you’re fucking on top of.

It’s all so audible and loud. Messy. The occasional sound of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises between you. The constant whimpering and his growling grunts, steadily growing in volume.

And you’re going slow.

“Yeah, well that’s ‘cause you’re no man, you dummy,” you bite back when you’re more familiar and comfortable with each other and the connection, trying to be witty even if it’s hard to keep your mind from breaking into shambles.

“Is that so?” He’s breathing hard, picking up his pace, going harder. “Then what am I?”

A dazed smile curls your lips. “You’re a dirty, dirty dog.”

Kiba could agree with that statement to some degree, perhaps. Even if he dislikes the particular term you’ve used.

After all, you have no idea how he’s gotten himself off with a pair of panties that he’d swiped from your drawer and wrapped around his fist back in senior year. Or how he’d turned embarrassingly hard after almost every hug and had to play it cool even if he was sweating bullets from trying to hide the raging boner in his pants. Or how he’s fantasized and fantasized and fantasized; only watching porn with actresses that shared similarities with you because nothing else seemed to work.

You don’t have a clue about any of that.

And he hopes it stays that way.

“Hah.” An almost mean snicker leaves his lips as he unexpectedly slams into you, making you squeal out a particularly nasty curse and causing your pussy to outright gush at the intrusion. “Careful, sweetheart. If you keep on saying things like that, I’ll be more than happy to treat ya like the dirty dog you say I am.”

“Will you, though?” you challenge playfully, stroking down his back with the heel of your foot.

He sneers as he answers, “I will if you keep on testin’ me.”

“But I thought you said that you’re bonded to me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean that you can’t hurt me?”

He blinks, surprised. “Who said anything ‘bout hurting you…? I’d just mount you.”

Your expression copies his own. “Mount… me?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, temperature suddenly flaring up at the thought. “You know… the same way animals fuck.”

Heat creeps up your neck at the crude way he explains it. “Oh.”

Kiba’s lips quirk upwards when he catches a whiff of the subtle change in your scent. You’re flustered at the idea, smelling even sweeter now that there are no clothes to buffer the prominent notes of arousal. “I take it that you wanna try it?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. A wave of sweat washes over you, toes curling. “What— No!”

“Oh, c’mon,” he pushes gently, helping you out. “Scent doesn’t lie, remember? You’ll like it, I promise.”

“And if I don’t?” you ask.

He nudges your chin with the tip of his nose. “If you don’t, we’ll stop. Simple as that.”

“Okay, but can you stop?” You angle your head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. “When you’re like this… under the influence of a rut. Can you stop?”

Silence hangs in the air as he pulls away to look at you, his expression suddenly somber despite the glaze of unbridled lust that still coats his unnatural eyes.

“I’d never hurt you,” he finally says. “I’d rather die than hurt my mate, that’s why I was ready to leave before.”

Kiba’s voice is stone cold serious. The intensity he chooses to speak with so that he can get his point across causes butterflies to spring free inside your belly.

You can still feel them fluttering around by the time his clawed hands manhandle you into the position he wants. Laying on your stomach now, you let out a little noise of surprise when his weight presses you further down into the silky nylon of the sleeping bags the moment he tops you.

He’s heavy, taking the profound size difference into account, but you’re pleased to find out that it’s the kind of weight that comforts you instead of suffocating you. You feel warm. Safe.

“Can I…?” he trails off.

His exhale tickles the back of your neck, making the hairs there rise to attention as you shiver and say, “Well, that’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?”

“Oh, sorry, my bad,” he says. “I thought you were here for the s’mores.”

“Not funny— oh.”

Your back arches and your anger dissipates into nothing as soon as he begins to push inside you again, careful not to stuff you full too fast. After all, while it might be easier to fit him inside you this time thanks to your earlier endeavours, it still remains to be no small task.

He’s as careful and considerate as he’s able to be in the state that he’s in. He pushes gently, but pushes nonetheless. By the time he sinks into you to the hilt and pauses to give you a minute, you’re both panting like you’ve just ran a marathon.

“You doin’ okay, bunny?” he rasps, voice so low and growly that it really does make you think you’re getting fucked by an animal. Or a beast, if you’d have to specify it.

“Yep, mhmm…!” You squeak out, your voice so high-pitched that it must surely hurt or at least agitate his ultra-sensitive hearing. You’re happy that he can’t see the fucked out expression that sits on your face right now. “Doing a-okay.”

“Don’t try to run away, now,” he teases when you wiggle your hips, trying to readjust yourself. “Or else the hunting instinct is gonna kick in.”

“Not to worry,” you practically chirp, feeling your body slipping into a fever at the way his big, calloused palm presses into the small of your back. “I’m staying put.”

He chuckles at how submissive he’s made you sound, at how there’s a prominent sheen of sweat gathering on your spine. Gliding his finger down your dewy skin, Kiba catches himself wishing to lick you clean of salt, but at the same time he just knows that you’d cause a fuss about it if he’d even mention the mere idea of it.

So for the following minutes, he doesn’t speak.

And neither do you.

You can’t speak from how deep he’s pushed himself inside you, anyway. No, all you can do is moan and whimper uselessly as he then proceeds to fuck you, to make love to you, to break you apart just to reassemble you until you’re whole again; all in the position he likes best.

He makes you sweat. Makes you cry out to him as you allow yourself to get lost in deeply-rooted carnal pleasure and you need his help to bring you back to morality. At some point, his arm even ends up reaching underneath you and wrapping around your stomach just so he can hold your hips up when you try to crawl away despite telling him that you’re going to stay put earlier.

Judging by the way you’re reacting to him, Kiba guesses that he’ll have to carry you down the hill when morning comes.

Meanwhile, you’re unsure if it’s the bond that’s making you feel this wild or the simple fact that he’s not entirely human. However, when you at long last feel yourself clenching around him, and when that tight, almost unbearable heat that’s inside your tummy finally spills free and spreads throughout your whole body, you realize that you don’t really care what the reason behind your sudden recklessness might be.

“Fuck. M’not gonna last long, sweetheart… No fuckin’ way that I’m gonna last when your cunt’s milkin’ me dry like that,” Kiba grunts out as he feels you gush and start creaming on his cock. There’s a ring of milky slick gathering at his base already — the sight and sound of it turns his thrusts jerky and irregular.

“Don’t get scared of the knot now, okay?” His upper lip trembles as he swallows hard. “It’ll be there just for a minute, I swear.”

“Knot…? What’s a—Oh, my gosh, Kiba; I am going to fucking murder you!”

The sudden swelling you feel inside your pussy practically bullies its way up to your cervix as he hunches his back and gives you one last, final push.

Your toes curl as the ‘knot’ — or whatever he calls it — plugs you, and also succeeds in making you entirely rigid in return. Every last inch of your body feels tingly from the foreign sensation as he lets out one final groan, that sounds more like a pained whimper than anything else, and simply fills you up to the brim with warm, thick, endless ropes of cum that paint your abused walls entirely white and simply refuse to spill out of you.

You stare off into the darkness, listening to his ragged breathing whilst trying to tame your own. Eventually, his cock softens enough for your cunt to not feel like it’s going to fucking explode from the fullness. And as soon as that happens, he drops down upon poor, unsuspecting you; feeling completely, utterly exhausted.

Your werewolf best friend is squishing you flat like a pancake and is spoiling you with messy kisses after fucking you like an animal in the middle of the woods. And you’re just… fine with that?

The realization makes you smile.

Maybe living your life on the edge for once and being a little bit spontaneous isn’t as bad as you think.

———

“I really hope that your pills can withstand all that werewolf cum I’ve just pumped into ya, ya know. ‘Cause otherwise we’re gonna be having an entire litter of pups.”

“For the love of god, can you please use your lowly developed frontal lobe for like a second of your miserable life, and just keep watch like I told you to?”

“This is pointless. There’s literally no one here besides us and a couple of deer.”

“Shush! I’m trying to pee and I can’t do that when you keep on running your big-ass mouth!”

“Words, words, words; I am saying so many words just so that you won’t be able to piss.”

“Shut up already!”

With his back turned towards you and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants, Kiba fights back a laugh as he listens to you relieve yourself in the nearby tall grass.

After fucking you close to stupidity nearly three times in a row now — and mounting you twice during those three times — the young werewolf feels somewhat content with himself at long last.

He’s fucked most of the rut out of his system by now. Besides that, you’ve also talked a lot, apologized to each other, and cleared up some misunderstandings. He’s even managed to place a hickey on that spot on your neck where your scent is the strongest and where, he hopes, you’ll let him place an actual bite mark someday.

But for now, you’re taking it slow. On Saturday, he’s taking you out to dinner at that little restaurant by the lake that you’ve always liked visiting with your parents.

And who knows, maybe after you share dessert together, you might even go for a swim so that he has an excuse to take his shirt off in front of you and you get to make fun of him for it, or whatever.

So lost in his thoughts and all the planning he has yet to start pondering through, Kiba barely hears the rustle of your footsteps when you approach him from behind.

He tenses, whipping his head in your direction only a millisecond before you manage to put away your travel sized packet of baby wipes that he teases you for constantly carrying around with you, and you place your hand on his shoulder.

Your eyebrows rise up towards your hairline in response to his visible startlement. “Did I just manage to sneak up on the so-called ‘apex predator’?”

“You wish,” he says as he absent-mindedly brushes you off. “I could smell ya from a mile away.”

You frown. “That’s so mean!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he drawls, sighing. “It’s just that you smell like me, now… It stands out.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” You stick your tongue at him, looking up at him with your hands on your hips. In the moonlight, he’s even handsomer than usual in that weirdly rugged way that only he can pull off. “Can we go back inside the tent now? I’m exhausted after the entire...”

“Fuckfest?” he offers with a tricksy grin.

“Shut it!” you chide before you shove your phone’s flashlight right into his face as punishment.

Back inside the tent, you don’t have any sort of trouble with undressing yourself in front of your best friend this time. Your hoodie and t-shirt are tossed off, leggings following soon after — until you’re curling up against his strong chest in nothing else but your socks and underwear.

His body temperature isn’t nearly as hot as it was before, but the skin on skin contact provides you with enough warmth to be comfortable as you turn around to face him.

Kiba’s hair is mussed and his eyelids are already hooded with upcoming sleep when he lifts them just barely enough to look at you. The rut really has taken a toll on him; on the both of you alike.

“What is it now?” he mumbles lazily.

“Do you think,” you start, swallowing hard. “Do you think that we’re going to be okay?”

He smiles, the quirk of his lips faint. “I know we will.”

“And our friendship?” you ask, pressing your palm against his chest. “Do you think all of this is going to ruin it?”

“Nah, I think it’s goin’ to make it even better,” he says, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he settles back. He yawns, rubbing his eye as he mutters, “Besides, we’re gonna take it slow. Just like you’ve said.”

“And you’re fine with that?” you ask.

“‘Course I am,” he replies sleepily.

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me,” he says. “So if you want to go slow, we’ll go as slow as goddamn snails if we have to.”

You let out a little laugh that sounds like wind chimes to him. “You’re so lame.”

Kiba grins, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. “Not as lame as you.”

And maybe, just maybe, going steady and experiencing peace for a change isn’t so bad either.

tags: @his-sweet-minx @rookie98writes @qichun @redskyvenus @simply-chillin-here @shanjisan

#kiba x reader #kiba smut #naruto smut #biscuit fics #kiba inuzuka x reader #naruto x reader #cw breeding #cw monsterfucking #cw omegaverse #cw knotting #kinktober #kiba inuzuka

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ellemj · 1 month

Text

Against the Rules

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Summary: Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?

Warnings: profanity, overstimulation, praise, mentions of oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, somewhat possessive!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I've been unreasonably horny bc I haven't had time to spend with the man I'm obsessed with this past week, so I channeled that energy into writing this shit today

Your body can’t take anymore. You’re sure that at any given moment, the last shred of physical strength that you’ve been using just to keep your legs underneath you will unravel and you’ll go crashing to the surface of the bed. You’ve been going at this for too hard, and for too long.

Bucky knows you’re struggling to keep up. He can feel the way your entire body trembles as he fucks his cock into you relentlessly, as he whispers soft praises in your ear to keep you motivated. Every time he bottoms out inside you he fears your knees might give way and you’ll tell him it’s too much, that this is the last time. Truthfully, Bucky doesn’t know why he’s still fucking the shit out of your tight little cunt when he’s already coaxed three orgasms out of you tonight, when he’s already finished inside of two condoms himself. It’s as if he’s stuck in an infinite loop, continuously thrusting into you and tugging your hips back to meet his every single time. He can’t fucking stop.

As the head of Bucky’s cock brushes against your cervix, eliciting a mix of pain and pleasure that only a well-endowed man can draw out of you, you let out a loud moan and tighten your grip on his bedsheets. Your head drops down until your forehead is pressing into the soft fabric of his pillowcase.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so fucking well.” Bucky groans out. Instead of speeding up as you’d expect, Bucky slows down and deepens his thrusts even more. Every slow drag of his cock leaving your pussy makes you subconsciously clench down, your body fighting to keep him buried inside you. “Look at that, baby.” He coos softly, leaning over you until his chest is draped over your back and his lips are grazing the shell of your ear once again. “You’re so tired, so fucked out, but your body just wants more.”

The moan you let out into his pillow is pornographic and embarrassingly needy as you arch your back and shuffle your knees to spread outward a little more. He’s right. Bucky’s always right. You want more.

He’s always taken his duty as your fuck buddy seriously. He always shows up at your door when you call, always lets you in when you find yourself at his door. He lets you vent about your day while he undoes his belt. He gives you advice about upcoming missions while he watches your clothes pile up on the floor beside his bed. He gives you the most godly form of pleasure and relief solely with his body, leaving you satisfied every time. It started out as an occasional activity, only occurring when you had a particularly bad week. After two months, it’s become an addiction. If you aren’t calling him nearly every night of the week, he’s calling you. If you can’t find the time to meet up and get each other off, he finds a way to get you alone during the work week at SHIELD headquarters. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t been caught on some kind of surveillance yet. It was just yesterday that he led you into an empty meeting room and laid you on the mahogany table. He spent ten minutes eating you out like your taste was the only thing he’d been able to think about all day.

“Bucky…” His name falls from your lips as you lift your head from the pillow. You watch as his headboard shifts back and forth in front of your face, hitting the wall over and over again with every snap of his hips.

“I know.” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your shoulder as he lessens the intensity of his thrusts. He feels fear coursing through him. Fear that you’ve had enough, that you’ll gather your things and head back to your apartment. It’s why he’s fucking you so damn hard tonight. He secretly hopes that you’ll be too sore to get up and get dressed, too sore to even think about getting out of his bed and leaving him tonight. He wants to fuck you so hard that you have to stay. “I know, baby. I just need one more from you.” He rasps against your skin. He straightens up behind you once more, continuing to fuck you while his hands grip your hips and his eyes take in your arched back and reddened ass. Just one more, he thinks.

“Bucky, you didn’t put another condom on.” His rhythm falters, slowing to a stop while his dick remains sheathed inside you. Fuck. He didn’t put a condom on after the last time he finished. How the hell did he forget? He’s never fucked anyone without one. It’s as if it didn’t even cross his mind when he took the last one off twenty minutes ago.

“Shit.” He groans, screwing his eyes shut and turning his face up to the ceiling. He needs to pull out and put one on if he’s going to finish this. Bucky starts slowly dragging his cock out of you, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he goes. “You were just letting me fuck you raw?” A loud moan escapes your lips and you drop your face into his pillow again. He freezes with only the head of his cock still inside you. “Did you…did you want me to fuck you raw?”

“Bucky—“

“You did, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you keep your face tucked into his pillow and your back arched as he holds the head of his cock still just barely inside of you. He gives you another second, another chance to answer. He has little control over his own movements when his right hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head and he tugs you upward until you’re only on your knees, with you back flush against his chest.

“What would you do if I kept fucking you like this? Without anything between us?” He asks lowly, letting his hips move forward only centimeters at a time. This time you moan his name softly, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “That’s right, you wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

“This is a bad idea.” You point out as he lets half of his length sink into you.

“Then why are you letting me do it?” He questions, pulling his hips back and then thrusting them forward again. He goes a little past halfway this time, making you whimper. “Why are you letting me fuck you raw? Do you want me to cum inside you?”

Bucky picks up the pace, fucking you a little faster and a little deeper, utilizing the majority of his length as his hand falls away from your hair. You end up with one of his hands between your legs, applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit, and his other hand alternating between fondling each of your breasts. When you moan out his name but don’t offer a response to his last query, he heaves a deep sigh before falling back to sit on his legs, pulling you back with him so you end up sitting down right on his throbbing cock. The scream that leaves your parted lips and rings out in the air draws a smirk to Bucky’s face. He knows he’s big, it’s why you’ve only ever been able to ride him after he’s spent time working you up to it. He probably should’ve given you a warning this time, been a bit more gentle, but it’s your fault really. You should’ve answered.

“Fine.” Bucky sighs again, loosening his hold on your hips and giving you an opportunity to get off of his dick. You don’t move a muscle, but he can feel your pussy tightening around his shaft, he can feel your wetness dripping onto his balls as you remain still. “Get off of me and I’ll put a condom on.”

Again, you don’t move. You stay seated on his cock, trying to catch your breath and adjust to his size. You know you should get off like he said, and let him put on some protection before you both make a risky mistake. So, after another second, that’s what you do. You start lifting yourself off of him slowly, letting his length retreat from your entrance inch by inch. When you get to that familiar point where all you feel inside of you is the head of his cock, you have one dangerous little thought. What if you do let him cum inside you?

Bucky witnesses your hesitation and he’s silently praying that this is the moment your legs finally give out, that you’ll fall right back down on his cock and he won’t have a chance to put a condom on. It’s what he wants to happen, but he can’t seem too eager. Not when you’re just his fuck buddy.

“Are you gonna get off, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, his voice low and smooth in your ears as he starts running his palms along the sides of your thighs.

“Yeah.” You whisper in response.

When you sit back down on Bucky’s lap, taking the entirety of his length in one go, you catch him by surprise. You feel his cock twitch inside of you and his fingers dig into the sides of your waist as he strains to hold his load.

“Fuck.” He groans, trying his best to compose himself as you start sliding up and down on his shaft. “I thought you were getting off.”

“I am.”

The moment turns into a filthy rendition of doggystyle, with Bucky fucking you as you’re face-down ass-up and his headboard scuffing up his bedroom wall. When his neighbor bangs on the wall, signaling that you’re both being too loud, Bucky only fucks you harder. He angles his thrusts just right, hitting that spot inside of you that only he can reach.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky pants the words out between thrusts, letting his head fall back as he continues to rail you into the mattress. You’re at the point where you can’t even feel the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is the way Bucky’s cock fits so perfectly inside you. You focus on it, the repetitive thrusts and outward drags of his length against your walls, the filthy melody of wet sounds and skin-slapping that fills the room and penetrates the walls all around, surely driving Bucky’s neighbors mad. “Fuck, baby.”

You feel every single drop of warmth in your lower stomach as Bucky loses control and cums inside of you. You feel every twitch of his cock as your pussy clenches around him and begs for more. You feel used, in the best way. Your fourth orgasm washes over you like a raging tidal wave, sweeping your knees out from under you and forcing you to collapse onto Bucky’s bed. He stops pulling out so far and starts grinding into you as he praises you through your high, peppering kisses and gentle bites along the side of your neck and your right shoulder.

“You’re sleeping here tonight.” He whispers against your skin, still softly rutting into you.

“That’s against our rules.” You remind him. Your voice is raspy from all of the moaning and screaming that’s taken place tonight and he loves it. It reminds him of the time you let him fuck your throat and you had a raspy voice for an entire day afterward. Everyone else thought you were catching a cold. Only Bucky knew that you’d been on your knees, swallowing his cock like such a good girl the night before.

“Cumming inside you was against the rules too.” He counters, pulling out almost completely before giving you one more hard thrust. “So…you’re going to sleep in my bed, full of my cum…” He gives you another hard thrust, making sure his load is thoroughly fucked into you. “And you’re going to fucking like it.”

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @andrometda @sillysillygoose444

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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xorafe · 2 months

Text

cam girl (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You don’t know how you got through the rest of your housekeeping shift after being with Rafe. You don’t even know how you got through the rest of the day.

He still wants you to host private sessions for him, still wants to pay to watch you do things to yourself. So here you are, obeying him as usual, sitting on your bed, in front of your laptop, dressed in white lingerie and aching for a release.

figure8 has joined the session.

figure8: hi princess

“Don’t ‘hi, princess’ me, Rafe,” you say. “You have any idea how I feel right now?”

You’re still so pent up from how be denied you an orgasm earlier that day. After work, you tried to study, but you were so distractedly horny.

Still, you listened to his instructions not to give yourself the release you needed until you were on camera with him tonight. And even through the frustrating anticipation, knowing your next orgasm has his name on it, knowing he wants to dominate you like this, is so gratifying.

figure8: someone’s grumpy

figure8 tipped you $500.

figure8: feel better?

You stifle your smirk.

“Can I open this yet?” you ask, holding the box he gave you, still sealed.

figure8: you dont have to hide your face anymore

You instinctually arranged yourself how you always did when you set up your camera, but you realize he’s right. He’s seen your face already. He’s seen everything already.

You reposition to show all of you on the screen, viewing the mirror image, the pout on your face apparent.

figure8: my pretty girl. i cant stop thinking about how your face looked covered in my cum today

You can’t control your smile at his message. Shit. You were supposed to be mad at him.

“Speaking of cumming…” you say slyly. “When can I?” Your confidence is always so high, your attitude so ballsy when you’re on cam.

It’s like the real you comes out, no inhibitions whatsoever. You still can’t believe how speechless he had you in his bedroom earlier today, but you know the next time you see him in person, you’ll be able to talk to him the way you always do on during your video sessions.

figure8: open the box

You sigh a breath of relief, pulling off the pink bow and taking off the cover. On a bed of white silk lays a small, pink c-shaped sex toy. You turn it over in your hands, trying to see how it works. The chat chimes.

figure8: you look so cute trying to figure it out

“Stop teasing me,” you tell him.

figure8: no

You continue to study the item Rafe bought you, slowly understanding what part is supposed to go inside of you and what part is supposed to go against your clit.

But there aren’t any buttons.

“How does this work, baby?” you ask, your frustration dissolving as curiosity takes over.

figure8: ready?

Seconds later, you feel the toy buzz in your hands.

“Are you… controlling this?” you ask, amused. You would have never expected Rafe to be so kinky.

figure8: get naked and put it in your pussy

Eagerly, you strip off your bra and panties, spreading your legs in front of the camera like you’re straddling your laptop.

figure8: wait

You sit with your legs spread, feeling your eyebrows furrow. He’s making you wait again?

figure8: just want to look at that sweet pussy again. you tasted so good

You think back to Rafe’s head between your legs earlier that day, the way his mouth lapped and fluttered over your folds.

You can see on the screen that you have small marks on the inside of your thighs. He left hickies on you with all his teasing. He put marks on you, like he promised he would.

“You like when I do this, don’t you?” you ask, pulling your pussy lips apart.

figure8: i’m hard as fuck

“Yeah?” you coo. “You ate me out so nice today. Hopefully next time you’ll let me finish.”

figure8: so desperate for me

You put your hand at your center, rubbing right where you’re throbbing to at least ease the pain just a bit.

“Can I use the toy, baby?” you try to sweet-talk him.

figure8: go ahead. put it in and stay sitting just like that

You pick up the silicone toy, sliding the bottom part into your hole and shuddering. The top curve rests against your clit and you sit back, hands behind you as you support yourself.

figure8: i love seeing that cunt full

“When is it going to be full with your dick?”

figure8: when i say so

You sigh and grind your hips forward. The toy gently buzzes inside of you and you dip your head back, a choked moan spilling out of your lips.

The vibrations are rhythmic and far apart, but at least you’re finally getting some stimulation.

The other part of the vibrator starts moving, suctioning over your clit. The sensation of both ends working you, of knowing Rafe is controlling it on the other side of town, lying in his bed and watching you with his hard dick in his hand, adds to how hot all of this is.

You arch your back as the toy buzzes and sucks and you start to roll your hips.

The chat chimes.

figure8: keep your eyes on the screen so u can see how pretty u look when you’re moaning

“Okay,” you obey breathlessly. You watch yourself on the screen, tits out, pussy squeezing around the toy Rafe bought you.

He keeps the same low setting on for a few minutes and you softly moan through the sensations. He knows this isn’t enough to make you cum but you don’t want to whine.

figure8: ready for more?

“Please,” you plead. The buzzing in you grows stronger, your walls clenching around the toy. “Shit, Rafe.”

figure8: feels good?

“So good,” you sighed. “So fucking good.”

figure8: play with your tits for me, princess

You sit up, putting your hands over your chest, fondling your breasts. You pinch your nipples and rub your fingers over them.

figure8: my good girl

The vibrator’s buzzing gets even more intense and you squeeze your legs together to get the most out of it.

The toy immediately stops moving.

“Rafe,” you groan.

figure8: you didn’t listen

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you shudder. You spread your legs for him again and look at the screen at your own desperate expression. Thankfully, you feel the toy move again, but it’s at the low setting you started at.

You won’t complain. He’ll delay the orgasm even more.

Eventually, you’re at the second level again and you quiver at how good it feels.

“Can we go a little faster? Please?” you purr, the knot inside you tightening.

figure8: god i thought i could do this but i can’t. where are you. i need to fuck you

The message makes your stomach flutter with butterflies. The thought of him pounding into you on your bed, of you not having to make yourself cum with your hand or a toy, thrills you.

“Now who’s impatient?” you ask with a smirk.

figure8: whats the address

“Let me just type it out for you,” you say slowly, enjoying this small window of control you’re in.

You type it out in seconds, but keep your hands over the keyboard before sending it to purposely make him wait, tits squeezed together up to the camera for him to see.

He only messages your name and you laugh at his neediness. Then a second message comes in.

figure8: you’ll pay for this

“Scary,” you mock. In reality, you’re really excited to see what punishment looks like to him. You finally hit the enter key.

figure8 tipped you $1000.

Rafe leaves the chat.

The fact that he still paid you is a pleasant surprise. In just a few days, you’ve fattened up your bank account quite nicely just from pleasuring yourself for him.

There’s a knock at your apartment door after what feels like an eternity. You open it a few inches, peeking out to see Rafe, and you shield yourself with the door as you open it to avoid anyone else in the hallway possibly seeing you nearly naked.

You figured there was no reason getting fully dressed, only putting your panties on.

With how much he loves to tell you he owns you, you’re sure Rafe wouldn’t take it well if a neighbor accidentally saw you exposed. He won’t even allow you to cam for other guys anymore.

You lock the door, leaning back on it with your arms crossed.

He towers over you, his presence so damn demanding in your tiny apartment. Your whole place would fit in his bedroom. He probably hasn’t ever been inside a home this small.

His eyes are fixed on your tits, the burning in his eyes giving you a warm sense of satisfaction.

“What was it that made you need to come fuck me yourself?” you ask with a smirk.

Maybe it’s because you’re in your own home, but now you have the confidence to tease him how you always do on cam, the shock of him knowing who you were during your sessions now worn off.

Rafe’s clearly amused, closing the distance between you, placing a hand up on the door as he dips his head to look down at you.

“You’re acting like you weren’t just asking when you can get my dick inside you,” he says, voice deep and dripping with desire. His lips curl into a smile, his perfect teeth peeking behind them.

Your fingers feverishly find the hem of his t-shirt and you start to pull it up, hungry to see him naked again.

“Can’t wait for it, can you?” Rafe asks, standing straight and bunching the fabric between his shoulder blades, pulling the shirt off for you and dropping it.

“I’m not the one who just drove all the way over here to fuck,” you taunt. Your eyes fall down his toned chest, the ridges of his abs. “And I’m needy?”

You love this back-and-forth power struggle with him. It’s like a game, a competition to see which one of you is more desperate for the other.

And honestly, it feels a little like payback for the orgasm he denied you today.

He brings his hands up your sides, sliding up to your tits, putting his cool palms on your chest and squeezing and fondling in a way that makes you sigh with pleasure.

“I have to fuck that attitude out of you,” he huffs. You giggle at his words, feeling your core pulse with desire.

Before you started anything with him, you thought Rafe was just another privileged, entitled asshole who’s painfully hot and knows it. But you’re actually having fun with him, teasing each other like this.

Your hands wander over his hard chest, smoothing over his worked out pecs.

“You can try,” you retort. He leans down and locks his lips on yours. His body curls up against you, your back pressed against the door as he grinds against you, his cock hard.

His hands cup your ass and he suddenly hikes you up. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your damp panties pressed against his hard stomach.

You dip your head into the crook of his neck and he smells like expensive cologne and salty sweat and man, making the tension coil inside you even tighter.

“Show me where you fuck yourself for me every night,” he orders, breath hot against your ear.

You pull back to meet his eyes, looking down at him through heavy lids. You wordlessly motion to the open door into your bedroom.

Rafe carries you through your apartment and lowers you onto your bed, hovering over you as he continues to kiss you roughly, tongue tumbling with yours. He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, the twinge of pain mixing so well with the pleasure.

You feel his hand rest on your pussy and your nerves are on fire.

“This is mine,” he rasps against your lips.

“Yours,” you say.

He rubs over your panties in broad circles, dipping his head down to your collarbone, tongue slowly darting out as he sucks. You’re sure he’ll leave another hickey on you.

You feel him press his finger over your hole, nudging the fabric of your panties against you.

You’ve officially lost all your patience.

“Please fuck me,” you say. You’re not even being needy because he likes it - you are fully desperate. “I’ll beg as much as I need to, okay? Just… please. I need you so fucking bad.”

Rafe pulls away, looking down at you in the dim light of your bedroom. His smirk is so damn smug and so damn arrogant. You’re stroking his ego and he loves it.

“I told you that you’ll pay for that little game you played,” Rafe threatens.

“Rafe,” you moan, squirming below him.

“I thought you might touch yourself the second you got home… but I can tell you listened to me.”

“I did,” you reassure him. “Do whatever you want to me. Just let me cum.”

“Whatever?” he echoes, dimples taunting you. You bring your hands up to his shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck. This is fucking torture.

“Anything, Rafe,” you promise.

“What if I want you on your knees so I can fuck that pretty mouth as hard as I want?” The thought makes you feel like you’ve entirely drenched your underwear.

“Yes, yes,” you say, nodding desperately. “Please. Anything.”

He laughs so damn pompously and degradingly, like your need for him is comical.

“It’s not funny,” you whine.

“I’d be balls deep in you right now if you didn’t fuck with me,” he tells you. You regret not just giving him your address immediately. Teasing him wasn’t worth it.

He gets up, taking his hand off your pussy and encircling your wrist, beckoning you to sit up.

“On the floor, princess,” he instructs.

You quickly settle on the rug next to your bed, knees on the floor and hands on your lap as you look up at him.

Rafe stands and unzips his jeans in front of you and pulls them down, left in gray briefs that do no work hiding the thick shape of his dick.

When he takes off his last piece of clothing, his cock bucks out, precum already leaking out the tip. You could tease him about how horny he is for you, but you know better.

He starts to slowly stroke his length.

“Eyes up,” he says. You obey and look up at him, knowing the amused, perverse way he’s gazing down at you will not soon leave your memory. You don’t want it to.

He pats his dick on your parted lips, your bottom lip quivering beneath the weight of it.

“You sucked it so good today,” Rafe taunts. “And look at you doing it again. You like this cock?”

“I love it,” you tell him.

He pinches your chin so you’ll open your mouth wider and slowly pushes himself in, his breath shaky as your mouth takes him all.

The base of his cock presses against your nose and you squeeze your fists tight, pussy aching in need. As bad as you want him inside of you, this feeling is so fucking perfect.

He puts his hands on the sides of your head, thumbs pressed on your temples.

“You’re gonna keep that pretty mouth open just like this, okay?” he instructs.

You nod, mouth full.

He pulls back, then pumps back into you. You gag and you hear him groan.

“That fucking sound…” he says.

He bucks in and out again, faster this time. You close your eyes from the pleasure of being used by him like this.

“Eyes.” His voice is husky. You meet his gaze again. “Good girl.”

Rafe’s pumps start to speed up, the tip of his dick sliding deep in your throat. His grip on your head tightens as he starts to lose himself in the feeling, his groans so damn hot that you wish you were recording this so you could play it back the next time you’re touching yourself.

But then again, it seems like Rafe has full control over when and where and how you masturbate.

He keeps fucking your face and you choke again after a deep thrust, starting to slobber on his cock. He pumps once more, deep, and you let out a strangled gag, tears forming.

He pulls out suddenly, his eyes frantically searching yours.

“Is it too much?” The concern on his face, the fact that he’s checking in on you like this, makes you realize just how wrong you were about this man. He is so much more than you thought.

Even in the eroticism of the moment, your heart feels like it flutters from Rafe’s display of care.

“No,” you tell him, wiping the spit around your mouth off with the back of your hand. “Keep going.”

He enters your mouth again and you fucking love it. The way he tastes, how hard he is, how smooth he is. It’s perfection.

Rafe returns to his fast pace, rocking in and out of your mouth, his eyes on yours the entire time. After a few more thrusts, he takes out his wet cock and puts one hand on the base of his length and the other at the back of your neck.

“You need to be fucked, don’t you, princess?” he asks.

“Please,” you whisper, anticipating bubbling inside of you. Finally, his cock will be right where you need it.

He applies pressure to the back of your neck, beckoning you to stand. On weak knees, you lift yourself up and let him guide you down onto your bed.

You lie on your back and Rafe leans down to slide his fingers under the band of your panties. You put your legs together so he can slide them down and off of you.

The mattress sinks as he bows to lie over you, his hands on the bed at either side of your head. You gaze up at him, the planes of his cheeks, the slope of his nose.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” Rafe rasps.

You’re thinking the same thing about him, but you’re so starved that you can’t say a single word.

Your cunt is dripping and goosebumps spread across every inch of your naked body. And you’ve never been happier that you’re on the pill, so you can feel him fuck you without a barrier.

One of his hands dip low to guide himself into you and you swear that you can see stars once you feel his tip nudge against your opening.

You shut your eyes and hear his sharp intake of breath as he enters you fully.

“God,” you shudder, the weakness in your voice shocking you. Nobody has ever had this effect on you, felt this nice in you. “Oh, my God.”

“Shit, that’s so fucking good,” he praises, bottoming out inside of you.

It hurts a little at first. You expected it with his size. But your body adjusts quickly and you feel nothing but bliss.

You find the strength to link your legs around him tightly, trapping him, afraid he’ll tease you again.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Rafe says with a chuckle, bending to press his lips against yours.

His weight is on you, his dick is filling you, his lips are pulling yours, and you want to stay in the moment forever.

He seems to savor the feeling of being inside of you for a moment, and then pulls back and plunges deep inside you again. You turn your head to the side, away from his mouth so you can speak.

“Harder, please,” you beg impatiently.

“We have all night,” he says. You can feel his smile against your cheek.

You let out a hopeless whimper and he seems to have a moment of sympathy, realizing just how tortuously he’s been teasing you.

Rafe pulls back then rocks back into you harder, jolting your body with pleasure. The bed starts to squeak as he rolls his hips, thrusting in and out of you.

You groan, hooking your arms around him, hands pressed on his shoulders. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot on you.

His muscles flex under your palms as he jerks his fat cock into you, rubbing against your walls, reaching deep inside you.

“You like that?” he whispers, his hot breath pressing on your neck.

“You fill me up so nice,” you moan. “Fuck, Rafe.”

“This pussy is so fucking perfect,” he says.

He straightens, holding himself up with locked arms, gazing at you with heavy lids, looking drunk off the feeling of fucking you. Your tits bob up and down with his rough movements, your chest heaving.

“Play with yourself,” he tells you. “You deserve to cum nice and hard, princess.”

You smile gratefully and immediately circle your clit with your fingers, the sensation mind-blowing. Rafe continues to pump in and out hard, looking down as you touch yourself, getting a private show out of you even in person.

He watches you in what you can only describe is awe, and dips his long forefinger inside your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger, sucking on it as he thrashes into you.

You feel yourself inching closer to your peak. You shut your eyes and arch your back, lips parting as you pant with each thrust.

A million fireworks explode inside of you when you finally cum. You clench around Rafe and feel him go even harder when his hot liquid pools into you.

He’s breathing just as hard as you are when he slowly pulls out. You hate the feeling of him leaving your body.

He collapses beside you, both of you looking up at the ceiling as you come down from the high.

You could pass out in seconds and you figure Rafe is not the kind of guy that cuddles. But because of the rough neighborhood you live in, you need to make sure the door’s locked behind him.

Before you can figure out how to ask him if he wants to stay, knowing he’ll say no, you hear a dreadful rattle.

“Fuck,” you groan.

“What was that?” Rafe asks.

“My heat just broke again,” you say. “The radiator is shit.”

You mentally go through the catalogue of what you need to do - find your extra blankets, bring out the space heater, keep trying to turn on the radiator even though you know it’s pointless.

“Again?”

“My landlord’s an ass. He’s supposed to fix it but never actually does.”

“So… what?”

“What do you mean?” you turn to look at Rafe, the soft lighting in your room casting shadows on his pretty face.

“What do you do now?”

“Bundle up,” you say with a defeated chuckle. “It usually starts working again in a few days.”

“Don’t you… can’t you call someone?” he asks. What a rich person thing to say. Call someone. The answer to everything.

“It’s too expensive,” you say. “And it’s not even on me. My landlord’s supposed to do it.”

“It’s, like, thirty degrees outside.” You’re not sure if he’s teasing or laughing at you right now, but you can’t take it. He can berate you all he wants sexually, mocking how much you want him, but your financial situation isn’t on the table.

“I know you love to give me shit, but don’t… not over this, okay?” you say.

Rafe nods quickly. You’re not sure if this means he was about to mess with you about it but won’t, or if it means he wouldn’t taunt you about it in the first place.

“How much would it cost? To fix?” he asks.

“I had someone come look at it a while ago and it cost $200 just for him to tell me it’s a $3000 fix since it’s such an old system.”

“That’s nothing,” he says.

At this point, you have to laugh. He is so fucking out of touch.

“Rafe, how much do you think I make cleaning your house?” you ask. You hope you don’t have to spell it out for him. You’re a maid. For fuck’s sake, you started to get naked for strangers online to make extra money. You’re clearly not in a great spot financially.

And sure, his tips are helping to cover bills, but you still have tuition and loans and rent to worry about.

Rafe doesn’t say anything. He just looks back up at the ceiling, giving you a chance to gaze at his profile.

This man doesn’t know how good he has it. He’s never had to worry about the cost of home repairs. Or rent. Or bills.

You knew Rafe was from a different world. For fuck’s sake, you cleaned his mansion twice a week - you saw the life he lived. But this makes you see just how far removed he is from what life is like for somebody like you.

“You gonna get on camera for me again tomorrow?” he finally asks. You can’t help but laugh. His mind is in the gutter. Of course. You knew not to expect much from him.

“Sure, baby,” you say. “I like that toy you got me. How do you control it?”

“On my phone,” he says. He shifts in bed, getting up, and you figure this is the end of the night.

You yawn and try to will your tired body to sit up. But Rafe lies back down, his phone in his hand. He must have taken it out of the pocket of his jeans.

He opens an app in front of you, showing the buttons on the screen that trigger different modes. If you weren’t so exhausted from how hard he fucked you, you’d probably ask to play with it right now.

You watch him close the app and tap on the green “Phone” app. He hands it to you.

“Here,” he says. “Put your number in.”

Caught off guard, you take Rafe’s phone - the newest iPhone, of course - and type in your digits. Why would he need to contact you outside of the cam website?

Probably for booty calls like these. This guy is only keeping you around to watch you on cam or fuck you. He only has one setting. Horny.

Then Rafe gets up again, and this time he’s clearly ready to leave, pulling his briefs up. You take a moment to appreciate how nice his ass is.

You wrap one of your smaller blankets around you and follow him out to your front door.

Rafe bends to pick up his shirt off the floor and you notice the logo as he pulls it on. That shirt he carelessly tossed to the ground costs the same as your rent. Probably more.

He turns to look at you, his frame large, his hand on the doorknob.

“This was fun,” he says. “Next time, I’m fucking you from behind.”

“Deal,” you say with a playful shove.

After showering and brushing your teeth, you get out the extra blankets and the loud, old space heater you keep in your closet.

You settle into bed, taking out your phone to set an alarm so you can wake up early tomorrow and get a head-start on studying.

A notification on your screen shocks you. An unknown number sent you $3000.

{ read part five here }

2K notes · View notes

cyle · 11 months

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Removing the ability to go directly to a specific reblog is a disastrously bad change! I can no longer engage with it when someone reblogs a post referencing the previous reblog's tags, which is, if you somehow missed it, a very common way people interact with each other on tumblr. I also often end up following new people because my mutuals regularly reblogged from them and they have interesting tag commentary; if I can't click through and look at their tags anymore, I'm not going to naturally find new people to interact with, which seems like the kind of thing that tumblr should want to incentivize rather than actively prevent?

I'm aware that this was not your decision personally, in the sense that you were apparently unaware of it at first, but it's a very bad decision, it makes my user experience of the site much worse, and I am going to use multiple avenues available to me to register a complaint about it in order to emphasize this badness!

Whatever this change is supposed to achieve, do something else to achieve it that doesn't remove the ability to actually look at specific posts.

a lot of changes we make won’t be well received by people who have survived the kinda insane ways this site works as-is. that’s the price we have to pay to help make tumblr a growing platform.

i’m sorry, it sucks, i don’t like it either, i’m also someone who’s been using this site for over 10 years and i’m used to the way it’s been working for most of that time. it’s a challenge for me to accept that tumblr isn’t actually working right now for the vast majority of people, who aren’t as vocal as we are.

please do send in feedback, but try to understand that most of what you’re describing is behavior you learned the hard way, and we can’t keep tumblr around if “the way to effectively use tumblr” is learned the hard way.

5K notes · View notes

gyu-effect · 4 months

Text

i’ll marry you with paper rings || k.mg

“AND I’LL MARRY YOU EVEN WITH PAPER RINGS”

PAIRING || Mingyu x Female Reader

GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, Slow Burn, Love Triangle (not exactly), Marriage Pact AU, Humour

SUMMARY || When the two of you were little, you and Mingyu had made a marriage pact, agreeing to marry each other if both of you remained single till thirty. Of course, it was just a joke between the two of you and you both went about in your own ways, the silly promise pretty much forgotten. You soon had a huge list of ex-boyfriends and it became a routine for Mingyu to be your human tissue after each breakup. It was a tiresome job, taking care of you, but if the said best friend in love with you didn’t do it, who would?

Or, in which, even twenty years later, Kim Mingyu finds himself running to your every beck and call, despite telling himself he won’t fall for you anymore.

WARNINGS || minors dni, swearing lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, wonwoo is an ass (sometimes), mingyu’s friend circle bullies him because what even is new, reader has a obsessive ex, down bad gyu (and yes this is a warning), switch!mingyu, switch!reader, soft sex its more of making love so there aren’t really any dynamics, unprotected sex (do not do this), pet names for both (love, baby, angel, princess, sir), riding, sofa sex. [let me know if i missed anything pls]

WORD COUNT || 28.3k (what happened here-)

A/N || OMG ITS FINALLY HERE. AFTER 8 MONTHS OF TURMOIL, 8 MONTHS OF HATING IT AND LOVING IT, HAVING A WRITERS BLOCK AND CRYING OVER IT ITS FINALLY HERE. This was a huuuuge journey to write this and I hope you guys enjoy it because this fic is truly my baby that I raised. Special thanks to @wonumatics for helping me with the fic (and also making a cameo) and @thepoopdokyeomtouched .

TAGLIST || @alyssng @shiningstar-byulxx @ashkuuuu @venusprada @macaronihaha @jyiiscool @sanniekook @obaebarbs @springdaybreaks @just-here-to-read-01 @hoshipills @jhornytrash @jeonnyread @zgzgzh @neuviloved @hoeforcheol @sahazzy @lightprincess-world @watermelon-sugars-things @idubutily @meowmeowminnie @raindroponme-onme @nishloves @cosmic-w0lf @gyulfriend @youre-on-your-ownkid @neocarat17 @bias-recs @bmkgemz @fragmentof-indifference @peachytokki @hanicore @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @toshijimafarms @hyneyedfiz @weebotakuboy @angelfeverdream @aaniag @thepoopdokyeomtouched @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @sea-moon-star @jjeongddol @k-drama-adict @mnstxmnbb [if you want to be added to my taglist please fill in this form!]

𝐎𝐍𝐄. 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒

“Mingoo.”

The boy ignored your words as he continued with his drawing, hoping you would stop calling him and get back to your own work. The two of you had been drawing and colouring since morning so it wasn’t really surprising to him that you were already bored, but his art teacher had claimed that he wouldn’t be able to draw well since he was left-handed and he was determined to prove her wrong.

“Mingoo. Mingoo! Look at me!”

‘Mingoo’ looked exasperatedly at you, clearly unamused by your antics. You had placed the entire colour pencil box on your head, balancing it as you tried climbing up the arms of the sofa where the two of you were seated. No sooner had you lifted a leg, your whole body shook and the pencil box came crashing down, spilling its content everywhere.

“Hey!”

You had begun to laugh but immediately stopped when you saw how upset he was. Sitting down beside him, you gave him a sad pout as you gently patted his back.

“What’s wrong, Mingoo?”

“I told you not to call me that! Just call me Mingyu!” He huffed, going back to his drawing.

You rolled your eyes but you were sure he didn’t even notice it, considering how immersed he was in his drawing. “Fine, Mingyu. Just so you know, Mingoo is much cuter! What’s bothering you?”

Mingyu didn’t respond right away, which just confirmed your suspicions that he was very, very upset. And when he did look at you finally, his lower lip was quivering as though he was on the verge of tears.

“My- my art teacher told me I can’t draw!” The very first tear drop fell as he sniffled, trying very hard to control his tears. You looked at him confused, not sure what he was talking about since Mingyu was clearly the best artist you had seen in your life (however short it was).

“What are you talking about? Why can’t you draw? You draw amazing.”

“She said since I’m a leftie I can’t draw!”

“That’s because she is just jealous that a six year old draws better than her. I think you are the best artist I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t even- you haven’t even seen that many artists.” Mingyu mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he felt the sadness in his heart reduce a little. You rolled your eyes once more (he had come to notice that you seemed to really love rolling your eyes at him) before poking his cheeks once.

“Don’t need to. I just know you are the best.”

“Really?”

“Mingoo.” This time he groaned at the nickname. “I think you are the best at everything. You are the best person I’ve ever met.”

“You are just six. You couldn’t have met that many people, could you?”

“You are underestimating my social skills. But the point is, according to me, you are the bestest person I know, and that’s why you are my best friend.”

He snorted. “It sounds like you are convincing me to get married to you.”

You gasped at that, and for a second Mingyu was worried he had said something scandalous (it didn’t feel right to him that you would be troubled by this when you used the word ‘idiot’ many times, which was a pretty bad word according to his mom).

“That’s it!” You clapped your hand in excitement and something told Mingyu you were going to suggest the most scandalous thing he had ever heard from you. “Let’s get married!”

“Like…now?”

“No, you idiot!” He winced as you slapped his arm lightly, though he wasn’t sure if it was because you hit him or because you had sworn again. Maybe it was time to tell your mom that you were always using bad words. “We can’t get married now, so if we are still single till thirty, let’s get married then!”

“W-why, though?” He asked, rubbing his arms gently. Not that he was opposed to this idea. Mingyu thought you were a great friend, you were his best friend after all, and to be honest, in his eyes you were pretty enough (he didn’t have much girl friends unfortunately). But he wasn’t sure why you had suggested this idea suddenly.

You just shrugged. “No reason. It’s just that I’ve seen many movies where the best friends get married because no one wants to marry them.”

“They sound desperate to me.”

“So will you be, if you don’t get a girlfriend by thirty.” You snickered and that got Mingyu actually wondering. Would he actually never get a girlfriend? Now that he thought about it more, he realised that maybe your plan wasn’t that bad.

“Sure then. Let’s get married if we are still single by thirty.”

You raised your pinky finger to him and he immediately entwined it with his, both of your thumbs brushing against each other as you smiled at him, causing him to mirror your grin.

“Pinky promise that we’ll get married if we are still single when we reach thirty?”

“Promise.” He whispered.

“Oh, by the way, Mingyu?”

“Hmmm?”

“You are going to be the world’s greatest artist.”

Mingyu rotated the pen in his hand as he absentmindedly stared outside the window. He could faintly hear the teacher teaching something about the different divisions in the animal kingdom but he had no interest in it whatsoever (after learning about the different excretory systems of insects, he had lost interest in biology all together). Through his seat, he could see the school ground and being on the lower floor didn’t help the fact he could recognise all the students who were playing out right now, making him wish he was there instead of his current location inside the sweltering, hot classroom.

No one had warned him that middle school would be this boring but after being put in different sections, his school life seemed to have considerably dulled without you. Seventh grade wasn’t supposed to be this lifeless, was it?

He could see your little running form going in circles around the field and he automatically felt a smile tug at his lips. You looked so funny, with that annoyed expression on your face as you struggled to complete your laps. Mingyu dearly wished he had his camera with him, just to click a picture of you in this haggard form and pin it up in his bedroom wall just to tease you.

Just as he was thinking of the million different ways he could embarrass you, he heard his name being called sharply, snapping him out of his train of thoughts.

“Kim Mingyu!”

He jerked up straight to see his biology teacher glaring daggers at him, hand clutching the duster as though he was ready to throw it on Mingyu the second he answered the question wrong.

“Er,” he stood up awkwardly, eyes darting to the board to search for anything, just anything related to the question, anything that would give him enough hint as to where they were.

Suddenly his eyes landed on Boo Seungkwan who was sitting on the first bench, the extremely talkative boy Mingyu had recently befriended, and to his relief, Seungkwan mouthed him the question.

What are the four divisions of phylum arthropoda?

“Uh right, um, arthropoda is divided into arachnida, myriapoda, insectae and crustaceans.”

The teacher looked slightly annoyed that he had got it right but nonetheless motioned Mingyu to sit down. Letting out a silent sigh, he sat down and looked out of the window, searching for you. His eyes immediately landed on your figure as you and your friends stood in circles for dodgeball, causing him to smile once again knowing you were horrible at the game.

It was funny to him how easily he always noticed you even amongst a huge sea of students. He was always the first one to catch your eyes at the morning assembly and he could always spot you in the canteen during lunch despite the huge strength of students. It was like you stood out the most amongst everyone, and yet at the same time, there wasn’t really anything that special about you.

Thank god he remembered this chapter though he had studied this almost five days ago. Mingyu had finally come to believe that he had, what you called, a ‘sexy brain’. It kind of embarrassed him how much you always threw that compliment around him whenever the two of you were studying, but for some reason he didn’t stop you.

He just liked it a lot when you complimented him.

The bell finally rang after what felt like hours, indicating that it was the lunch break. Mingyu turned towards the window to see you disappearing into the school building one last time, before he began packing his books into his bag.

“Dude, why do you stare out of the window so much?”

He looked up to see Seokmin leaning on his desk, his usual gentle smile on his face as he waited for him to answer. Mingyu could see the curiosity behind his eyes so he just shook his head.

“No reason. It’s just better than studying bio, to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, peeping out of the window too. Seungkwan came and joined the two of them, having overheard the conversation. “Are you sure it isn’t to just check out the section A girls?”

For some reason, Mingyu felt heat creep into his cheeks as he glared at the smiling boy opposite to him, who was already laughing in a good natured way.

“Then what?” Seungkwan snorted. “His best friend is in that class.”

“Oh? What’s her name? Then you must be mad that the two of you got separated last year, right?”

“It’s Y/N. Of course I’m mad.” He huffed, frowning at the very memory. His school had suddenly decided that from middle school girls and boys would be in completely different sections. He remembered whining about this to you because what was the point of studying in a co-ed school if he was separated from his best friend for silly reasons to which you had gently reminded him that you would be meeting at the canteen nonetheless. “Won’t you be angry if Joshua got put in a separate class, Seokmin?”

Seokmin laughed once more. “Of course I would. But you look like you are ready to set the school on fire for this.”

“You see,” Seungkwan spoke and Mingyu could already tell he was trying to add fuel to the fire from his expression. “They both are really close. So of course Mingyu was pissed.”

To this, Seokmin widened his eyes at Mingyu dramatically, clearly intrigued by this new piece of gossip. “Oh? Is that so?”

“It’s not what you both are thinking.” Mingyu said firmly, finally zipping his bag shut. But one look at Seungkwan and Seokmin’s mischievous smirk was enough to tell him that he had dug his own grave.

“And what are we thinking, Mingyu?”

“You think I have a crush on her.” He said, his nostrils flaring. Mingyu could feel his ears turning red from the embarrassment but he wasn’t really sure why. What was so embarrassing about explaining his relationship with you, his best friend, to his friends? “Or that we might like each other. But we don’t. Not like that.”

“Uh huh whatever you say, lover boy.” Seungkwan giggled before beckoning them to get out of the classroom. Mingyu rolled his eyes as he followed his friends out but it did nothing to stop his ears from burning up. Why was he so flustered?

The canteen was as usual crowded and the three of them lined up with their trays to get their food, when he felt his elbows hit someone else.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Mingyu began, sure that his clumsiness had gotten him into trouble once again. But luckily, he was met by your annoyed expression (he never knew he could feel so much relief upon seeing you annoyed) as you rubbed your ribs gingerly.

“Watch where you’re going, boy. You could easily have taken off my head with that elbow of yours.”

Mingyu snorted at your words, secretly glad that he was finally able to catch up with you in the canteen. “I bet I could. After all, who gets tired after running three laps?”

“You were watching me?” You hissed, pretending to lift your tray to hit him. He laughed at you and felt his smile grow as you too smiled back at him.

“He was watching you the entire time.” Seungkwan said. Mingyu glared at the two of them but that didn’t stop Seokmin either.

“Yeah, nearly got into trouble too, because of that. Thank god you knew the answer or else Park would have had your head for lunch today.”

“You weren’t listening to Park? You must have a death wish, Gyu.”

All of a sudden Mingyu felt his stomach flip, causing him to stumble a little, his plate (now filled with food) nearly falling off his hand if it wasn’t for Seungkwan catching it with a hiss.

“What’s wrong with you?” He hissed, carefully pulling Mingyu away from the crowd. The four of them looked at him concerned and he realised he must have looked shell shocked or something, seeing that they weren’t scolding him for his clumsy habits like usual.

To be honest, he felt shell shocked too. What was that? What was that sudden feeling that nearly threw him off his balance? When you had called him Gyu (Mingoo had evolved to Gyu because even you finally agreed; it was cringe), he had felt his stomach drop like he had been dropped from a great height. You had called him Gyu countless times before, and none of them had ever had such a dangerous effect on him before.

“Mingyu?” He heard your soft voice call him, and when you placed a gentle hand on his arm he turned to look at you. You were looking at him worriedly, and for some reason that made him feel even more light headed.

He felt the familiar heat rise up his cheeks and he immediately turned away, not wanting to look at you anymore.

“I- I think I need to go to the nurse’s room. I think I’m a bit dehydrated.” he said, deciding that he must have been feeling unwell. What else could be the reason for this sudden feeling? It was very hot after all and they did have an hour of physical education before biology. Maybe he hadn’t drunk enough water?

“Oh, okay. Let me come with you-” You began but he cut you off with a smile

“No, I’ll go alone.”

You looked taken aback for a second, but smiled back almost immediately, giving his arm a gentle pat. “Are you sure? What if you faint on the way?”

“No, I’m not that unwell yet. It’s okay, you guys have lunch. I’ll catch up with you later.” Nodding at Seungkwan and Seokmin, he quickly ran out of the cafeteria, hoping no one was using the ice bag from the nurse’s room.

Now that he was finally away from the suffocating heat and loud buzz of the cafeteria, he wondered why he had refused you to take him to the medical room.

“Crap. How many days left for cram school to start?” You asked, stuffing another handful of popcorn into your mouth. Your best friend looked at you in annoyance for asking the most useless question in between the movie, but nonetheless picked up his phone to check the date.

“Two days. It starts this Saturday.”

“Fuck, we’ve really got to make the most out of it Mingyu.”

“I know. But you repeating it after every few minutes isn’t really making it better or making the day go slower. If anything, I can already feel the anxiety seeping in.”

He heard you snort and mumble something about having it easy because of his sexy brain, and he felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. The two of you were finally in high school, but there was nothing to rejoice about it by the number of extra classes you would have to attend. So here you were, idling away the two week summer vacation you had got, enjoying the ‘last glories of our youth’ as you had called it.

Even though Mingyu knew the next four years were going to be a huge study overload (he could actually feel the anxiety seeping in now), he had never felt so relaxed in his entire life like he had in these two weeks.

The two of you had gone to amusement parks, done movie marathons and had even gone to the beach for a few days with both of your families. Even though he knew spending time with you was supposed to be memorable, he couldn’t help thinking that this time it had felt extra special.

He still couldn’t forget that warm feeling that had enveloped his chest when you had won one of the amusement park games and hugged him out of excitement, or the time when the two of you kept pushing each other at the sea until a huge wave crashed into the two of you, causing you to hold onto Mingyu as you both let out shrieks of laughter.

All of a sudden he realised that he had been getting this feeling of warmth whenever he was around you quite often off lately. Not to mention that one time his stomach dropped when you winked at him back at your fourteenth birthday.

Well, in his defence you looked gorgeous. Like in a way he hadn’t expected you to. Of course he knew you were pretty. Kim Mingyu wasn’t blind to all those love letters and chocolate boxes you got every Valentine's day. But he really hadn’t expected you to look so beautiful in that dress. Nor had he expected his heart to stutter like that when you showed him the dress, twirling in it.

Maybe it was because of the heat inside your bedroom due to all the closed windows and door or maybe it was because he was remembering those confusing emotions, but as Mingyu turned to look at you, he felt his heart stutter once more.

Your hands had a dusty orange on them from all those cheetos you had been munching on from earlier this evening, and your mouth was in an even worse condition. And yet, he felt warmth flood his chest when he realised he didn’t really care for your appearance. It didn’t really matter to him whether you had cheetos crumbs smeared on your lips or whether you were dancing in a beautiful evening gown.

Because you were, well you. You were Mingyu’s best friend of nine years and with someone he had shared every single memory with, be it a happy, sad or an embarrassing one. Of course he wouldn’t care about your appearance (hell, he had even seen you when you woke up after bawling your eyes out for the entire night) so why was this point coming to his mind now?

You were pretty and that was a fact. There was nothing to debate about it and yet here he was, not paying attention to the movie but wondering if all the guys who had chased you were aware of this side of you. Would they still ask you out? Would they still send you roses and chocolates during that time of the year?

He snorted at the very thought of how fake their affection towards you now felt. Mingyu was pretty sure they would run in the opposite direction if they saw you in this condition right now; wearing your old Melody pyjamas while eating chips in the most messy way ever.

But he would never do that (assuming there was a hypothetical situation where he had to date you, of course). Because this was what made you you and he loved you for that. Everything about you was perfect in his eyes, including your flaws and mistakes.

Which once again, made his heart to stutter erratically causing him to suck in a harsh breath.

You turned to him when you heard him suck in a breath, your smiling expression changing to that of concern.

“Gyu? You okay?”

“Yeah I think…I think I’ve got a clogged artery.” Maybe it was high time he talked to a cardiologist.

“Dammit. Told you to cut down on those snacks.”

“Me? Or you?” He laughed, pointing at the heap of empty snack packets around you. You pushed all the packets to his side and he gave you his usual ‘defeated smile’, causing you to laugh once again.

Damn, you were really pretty when you laughed.

“Oh but clogged arteries? Please Einstein, I bet you were thinking about a girl, weren’t you?”

“What the hell? Where did that come from?” He spluttered, taken aback by this sudden confrontation. You punched his arm lightly before wiggling your eyebrows at him (Mingyu made a mental point to ask Seungkwan to stop hanging out with you since you were clearly picking up his habits).

“My dude, you clearly have a crush on someone. Why else would your heart be jumping like that?”

“I don’t think I ever mentioned it was jumping?”

“Oh please. I’ve known you for so many years. I know what’s going on inside your head.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a crush on anyone, okay?”

“Then why is your heart jumping like that?”

“I told you it's not jumping-”

“The only explanation is that you have a crush on someone.” You winked, causing him to groan. Letting out a laugh you patted his shoulder gently, letting him know you were joking. “I’m just kidding, Gyu. If you ever had a crush on someone, you would have told me right?”

“Yeah…” Mingyu nodded. He would have told you right away, right? But what if…what if his crush was you? Would he be able to tell you then?

“Speaking of which, one of my friends thinks you are cute! Do you want to go on a date with her?”

“Er, I don’t think I’m good enough-”

“Excuse me?” You glared daggers at him, causing him to halt mid sentence. “You are not good enough? What are you even talking about? Anyone who knows you well knows that you are a literal gem! You are smart, cute, handsome and well-mannered! What else does a girl need?”

“Er.” He tried thinking of something to say, but his mind was stuck on something else you had said. You had called him smart, cute and handsome? Sure, he heard you say it a million times before but it did nothing to stop the heat creeping up his cheeks.

“Give it a try, please? Suji is a nice girl too, and I’m sure you both would click. You know I wouldn’t have even told you about this if I knew you wouldn’t like her, would I?” You asked, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. You looked so adorable right now, pouting at him slightly as you spoke in a soft voice, as though trying to convince a child to do something for you.

As though in a trance, Mingyu found himself nodding to your words. “Okay. But why does she like me? I mean, I barely know her.”

“I don’t know honestly. She just said she had a crush on you because you looked like her ideal type.”

“So…she loves me because I look like her ideal type?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and Mingyu wondered what had he done wrong. When he still didn’t reply, you rolled your eyes and took the remote controller, switching off the movie and edging closer to him.

“No, you silly. She doesn’t love you. I said, she has a crush on you. There’s a difference.”

His head spun at your words as he looked at you annoyed this time. Why were you complicating matters when it was clear he didn’t know a thing about this?

“Look crush is like a short infatuation. It doesn’t have much to do with personality, and is mostly based on looks. Love on the other hand, develops slowly, over a period of time. Like you could give a million reasons why you might have a crush on someone but love is, love is just…there’s no reason. You just love them despite everything and anything. Like…their imperfections don’t matter at all.”

“Like how I love you?” He asked, and you just laughed, slipping your hands into his. He grimaced as you oily fingers brushed against his, but somehow it felt comforting when you entwined your hand in his.

“Of course not. We are just friends; everything is platonic between us. What I mean is loving a stranger, like a person you were not meant to be with in the first place. I mean like, not- not Seokmin, me or Seungkwan. Not your family or friends. Someone you accidentally happened to meet. Am I making sense?”

Mingyu nodded, understanding you very clearly. It made sense in a way. Loving you couldn’t possibly be the same as loving his girlfriend, could it? Loving you was like his second nature, like it was bound to happen and he couldn’t think of a time he didn’t love you and your friendship. Loving you was just so easy and just so natural; that had to be platonic right?

You switched back on the television, and for a few minutes, silence engulfed the two of you before you broke it again.

“You want to know something, Gyu?”

“What?”

“I would have definitely loved you if we weren’t best friends.”

“Hi!”

Mingyu turned towards the excited squeak and found a girl of his age standing beside him, waving a bit too excitedly. He smiled at her politely before beckoning to the empty seat beside him for her to sit down.

He had finally agreed to go on a date with Suji, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy a little bit before he became completely busy with his studies. He had tried searching for good places to go on a date that might suit both his and Suji’s taste, but finding none, he finally had resorted to asking Seokmin for advice.

Currently the two of them were at the Food Plaza, a street completely dedicated to small food shops. According to Seokmin, he and his girlfriend enjoyed trying new food from there so it might be a great idea to take Suji there instead of a restaurant which would serve only a particular cuisine.

“So, um, Suji.” Mingyu began. immediately wishing a hole would swallow him up because of how awkwardly he had started. “What do you eat? I mean, like, what would you like to eat? Like- Like cuisine wise?”

“Uh, about that-”

“We could have Italian if you like! Or- or, uh, my friend actually recommended me this taco place but I’ve just got to search for it a bit-”

“I’m actually allergic to a lot of food.” She cut him off, smiling at Mingyu apologetically. As he stared at her, he could feel the embarrassment sinking in even more.

Oh. Oh. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I would have picked a different date spot.” He said, trying not to sound too dejected at how his first date was going.

“I didn’t want to offend you. I mean, it was the first time we were talking and you asked if this was fine with me and I felt it would be rude if I said no.” She said sheepishly, clearly equally embarrassed at how things were turning out.

Why did she have to overthink so much? Why did she have to be so polite?

“Then…do you want to go somewhere else-”

“I see a Subway here, behind you. Do you mind if we eat there instead?” She asked with a smile.

He forced a smile and got up, and she followed his lead. Oh great, this Subway is only a takeaway. “Of course not. Let’s have a Subway then.”

Mingyu had always had great expectations for his first date. He had always thought it would be at a nice comfortable place, enjoying the food as he got to know his date and vice versa. Never had he thought that he would be eating a Subway for his first date, sitting on one of the plastic chairs kept outside the shop, getting boiled under the hot sun.

The rest of the afternoon passed away in idle chatter. Suji was apparently a straight A student, but she had no other hobbies because she spent every single moment studying (he could understand her position, really, but it was still boring beyond words).They ended up talking about school and grades more than Mingyu had in his entire life and by the time they had finished lunch, his head was already throbbing.

Out of politeness he asked if she wanted to go to the amusement park but she told him she hated the amusement park, to which Mingyu had nothing to say.

Finally finding that there was nothing else to do (and they had nothing in common except for their grades), the two of them decided to call it a day. They bid each other goodbye with Suji thanking him for the food, and Mingyu promised he would catch up with her more (he didn’t intend to keep this one though).

The sun was already setting in by the time he began his walk back home and the atmosphere had gotten relatively cooler, but it did nothing to stop the pricking heat he was feeling all over his body. His head still throbbed from earlier despite finishing nearly two bottles by himself, so he decided to take some rest at the neighbourhood park.

He sat down on one of the wooden benches and finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

What was wrong with him? Mingyu could feel his head spinning as he felt oddly hot, his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. Talking to Suji made him feel so uncomfortable for some reason, it felt like he had been talking to a wall the entire time. It was awkward, forced and just so annoying even though he couldn’t tell why.

And he felt unhappy. Unexplainably unhappy. Like he had been forced to choose a career he hated or like he had been told to stop art altogether.

Finally, he took out his phone and dialled a very familiar number, hoping you weren't busy at this moment.

You picked up at the first ring itself and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t enjoy the date? He knew you wouldn’t feel offended by that and you would agree with him but then why couldn't he say anything to you?

“Gyu?” You asked softly, your voice laced in worry.

And that was enough to break him. He let out a sob as he screwed his eyes shut, feeling a heavy emotion wash over him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, though he himself was unsure what he was sorry about. “I’m so sorry. I just-”

“Where are you?” You cut him off gently, and he paused for a second to catch his breath.

“I’m- I’m at the park near our apartment.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes, okay? Just hang in there.”

True to your words, you were there within five minutes, and he found you crouching down in front of him. Gently placing your hand on his knees, you asked again, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He was still shaking from the aftermath of his sudden breakdown, the nauseous feeling threatening to rise if he opened his mouth to speak. So instead, he just opted to look at you with his teary eyes, hoping you would understand.

Mingyu had always been the softer one among the two of you. He was always the first one to end up with tears when he got hurt or offended, and at the same time he was the first one to forgive anyone for their mistakes. So it wasn’t really surprising that you had learnt to realise his emotions even if he didn’t, and you always knew the right word to soothe him.

“Hey,” You said, still talking softly to him. You took his hands in yours, gently rubbing circles on them with your thumb. “It’s okay. It’s completely fine that you didn’t like her, you know that right? Sometimes…things don’t work out the way we think they would. But why are you crying? Did she do something to you? Don’t tell me she forced you to kiss her or-”

“No, no, it’s not anything like that.” He inhaled sharply, finally finding his voice back. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Suji just because he was confused about what he was feeling and why he didn’t like her. “It’s just that…I don’t know. She felt so boring, bland and dry. Not in the offensive way! Like- like Minghao from my chess class talks about only grades and school too! But I never feel so dull…so lifeless with him.

“It’s okay.” You said with a reassuring smile that had warmth flooding back to his chest, the stupid prickling heat that had been irritating his skin now gone. Pressing a soft kiss onto his knuckles, you said, “We don’t have to justify why we don’t like or like someone ever, okay? It’s completely fine.”

And all of a sudden Mingyu realised what he had been feeling, why he had felt so unhappy and what Suji had missing.

“I felt uncomfortable.” He said, just realising how comfortable he felt beside you. There was a feeling you radiated, which was something no one could ever replace. Whenever he was with you he felt like he was at home, like no matter what would happen he could always go back to you.

Which was a given since you were his best friend. And yet, when he was with Suji all he could think of was you. Of how you made him feel. Of how you made him feel always.

“It’s okay, Gyu. It can happen. You know that I’ll always be there for you, right?” You smiled at him.

Mingyu smiled back at you, finally feeling like the throbbing in his head dull down a bit. As if on a cue, he remembered something like this had happened to the two of you long ago, another incident of you calming him down which had resulted in the two of you making a silly promise.

Back then it was a promise made at the heat of the moment, with little to almost no thought given to it since it was meant to be a light joke between the two of you. But when he extended his pinky to you and you immediately linked it with yours, Mingyu could feel your seriousness.

“I promise I’ll be there for you too.”

He pressed your doorbell multiple times furiously, patience running thin with every passing second. What was taking you so long? Were you that badly injured that you couldn’t even open the door-

The door finally swung open and Mingyu nearly flew in, engulfing you into a bone crushing hug.

“Ow! Mingyu- It hurts-” You clawed at his back but he still didn’t let go, pouring all his anger that had built up in the past few hours against you in this hug (he had always been told he had weird ways to show his anger). It was only when he felt you yank his hair at the back of his head lightly did he let you go.

“What the hell-” He began as he pulled away, still clutching at your shoulders. He took a deep breath in when he saw your split lip and bruised cheek, feeling his heart twist in the most horrendous way ever. “Did you think you were doing?”

Mingyu could feel the huge wave of guilt coursing through his veins right now. He shouldn’t be blaming you. This wasn’t even your fault in the first place. Why was he getting mad at you?

Because after all, this was actually all his fault. The whole reason you had even got into the fight in the first place was because of him.

And yet, you looked unfazed as you rolled your eyes at him, shrugging his hand off your shoulders. You walked into your bedroom and after making sure the front door was locked (your parents had gone out for a week and it was Mingyu’s responsibility to check if you were keeping up with the safety rules set by them), he followed you into your room.

“Why did you do that?” He asked once again, as you sat down on your bed with a huff. He followed suit and you turned to glare at him.

“What do you mean why did I do that? Of course I had to punch that asshole-”

“Then are you going to get into a fight with anyone who says they don’t like me?”

“Of course I will! And it wasn’t even a matter of simple liking. He called you a whore just because you didn’t want to go out with his sister. Who the fuck does that? I needed to get some decency punched into his head!” You snapped, causing him to flinch at your anger.

Why were you so angry? It was true that even he would have been offended if someone had insulted you, but now you had gotten yourself hurt and that hurt him a lot more.

“Did the school send you home early as a punishment?” He asked as he got up to search for the first aid box, trying to change the subject.

“Not as a punishment. The principal said he was letting me go since he was the one who started it. But they said that if I got into another fight, it would go down in my report.”

Mingyu hissed at the very thought of your report getting tainted due to him. Squeezing the antiseptic he had taken out from your first aid box onto a cotton bud, he was about to apply it on your lips but you caught his wrist. He looked up at you in surprise only to see you looking at him worriedly.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. I’m just- Look, you got hurt. Because of me.” He said, his strained voice giving away the guilt he had been hiding all this time. He was mad at you; but only because you had got hurt so badly because of him.

“Nope. Not because of you. I got hurt because of that bastard-”

“Okay that’s enough swearing for a day. But why did you do that?”

“Done what?” You asked in annoyance, as though it was a stupid question he was asking. “Gotten into a fight? Gyu…wouldn’t you have done that for me too?”

“I- I would- I wouldn’t- Yeah. I would.” He whispered, feeling bile rise up his throat at the very thought of someone insulting you. Was that even possible? What would they even insult about you? What was even there to insult about you? You were so perfect in every way that Mingyu could not even think of any flaw that someone might find in you. “I would burn down the world for you.” He said, still whispering.

When you heard this, the creases that had formed in your eyebrows due to your anger disappeared, as you burst into laughter. He blinked at you confused, not sure why you were laughing. Nonetheless, he felt his own mood lighten a bit upon hearing your beautiful laugh, his heart skipping a beat when you smiled at him softly.

“Oh Gyu.” You said, grabbing his hand in yours. Right now you were looking so, so pretty that all Mingyu could do was stare at you and nod dumbly, all words dried from his throat. “You would burn the world down for me? Nah, you are too sweet for that.”

At this he snorted, jerking his hand away from you and proceeding to dab at your lips. “You underestimate my love for you.”

“I don’t.” You said, wincing a bit that caused him to freeze, scared that he was hurting you more. Seeing your wounds from up close made his heart squeeze painfully, and it oddly made him wish he had taken those punches instead of you. “I know you love me as much as I love you.”

“Then don’t get hurt.” He whispered. You blinked at him and he sighed frustratedly, pulling you into another hug. This one was gentler than the previous one and yet Mingyu held as close as he had done before, as though he was scared to let you go. “Then please don’t get hurt. It hurts me. It hurts me to see you like this.”

He felt you gently pat his shoulder blades before wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling him even more closer. Your scent, which he had grown so familiar with, comforted him as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Hugs were not something uncommon between the two of you; you had hugged each other a million times before and nothing had changed between the two of you.

And yet right now, as Mingyu held your body close to his, he was hyper aware of how your skin felt against his, of how comfortably your body fit in his grip and of how his heart raced as you clutched his biceps. His heart hurt, his head hurt and yet, it felt so good to have you in his arms.

It really felt like Mingyu was the one who got into a fight; everything hurt so badly. He thought of the raging emotion he had first felt when he had heard that his classmate had hurt you. He remembered the panic he felt when he entered the nurse room and couldn’t find you; he was worried that you were in a worse condition than he had thought you were in and had to be taken to the hospital. And he remembered the relief flooding back in him when the nurse told you had simply been asked to go back home and there was nothing serious about your bruises. It had nearly torn him apart as he waited for the day to get over, dying to go home and make sure that you were actually okay.

He thought of all the emotions he had experienced with you; happiness, anger, sadness, fear, surprise and even disgust. Mingyu had shared a huge journey with millions of memories with you. He really couldn’t even imagine what his life would have been like if it weren’t for you. It was impossible to even breathe without you.

Suddenly he remembered what Seokmin had told him once, that maybe, maybe he was in love with you.

It was back when they were on a school school field trip and students had been allowed some free time around the resort so Mingyu, Seokmin and Seungkwan decided to play on the monkey bars. They were just either sitting on it or swinging aimlessly (sixteen year olds were a bit too tall for a playground meant for five year olds) with idle chatter when you and your group came and sat down on the swing.

Normally Mingyu wouldn’t have really cared and the swings were too far from the monkey bar to involve himself in your talk but he glanced at you and felt himself smile. You were laughing and talking to your friend, the sunlight catching your hair and almost giving you an angelic glow.

It was already warm but Mingyu still felt warmth spreading in his chest, his cheeks heating up within seconds.

Back then, Seokmin had joked, only joked, that Mingyu was in love with you but now, he realised that it may be true.

That maybe, he was in love with you.

And not in the platonic way that you had explained to him. Not in the way where you both exchanged ‘i love yous’ regularly because you loved your friendship.

He loved you in the way Orpheus loved Eurydice, the way Romeo loved Juliet and the way Louisa Clark loved William Traynor.

Because Mingyu had said it for himself; loving you was so easy and just so natural that he couldn’t even think of something else, he couldn’t even see himself falling in love with someone else. Loving you was like a river flowing, something that would have happened no matter what. Something that could not be stopped, because then it would be like a dam that had been forced to be built to stop Mingyu’s emotions from flowing.

“Just promise me you won’t get hurt.” He whispered and felt you slightly nod your head. You were gently rubbing circles on his back, with no idea what effect it had on him. “Promise me please. Because I love you so much that I can’t bear to see you get hurt.”

“I promise.” You mumbled almost immediately, unaware of the double meaning his words held.

But that’s okay. Mingyu thought. You didn’t have to know about his feelings. He wasn’t going to burden you or your friendship with his one sided love. As long as you were happy, he was okay with it.

After all, some promises were meant to be broken.

Like this one.

“What did you even want to show us?” Seungkwan grumbled, squinting through the sunlight looking heavily annoyed.

Mingyu didn’t blame him though. They had been sitting at the cafe for the past half an hour doing nothing, still waiting for whatever ‘surprise’ you had planned for them. The hot weather made everything even worse; Seokmin was already on his fourth ice cream, Seungkwan was sipping his sixth iced americano and Mingyu himself had drunk two large glasses of milkshake and now he wanted to use the washroom so badly but could only resort to shaking his legs.

“If I tell you it won’t be a surprise anymore, will it?” You said, checking your phone for the millionth time.

Mingyu realised that this was the first time in weeks he was hanging out with you. College was starting in a month and everyone had decided to take part in activities that might help them boost their respective subject knowledge. Since both of you had decided to major in different subjects, he hadn’t been able to see you much due to the conflicting schedules of your work.

He felt warmth bloom in his chest as he watched you smile at your screen, the corners of his lips tugging when he realised how ridiculously pretty you looked. Mingyu had come to terms with the fact that love was indeed blind; in his eyes you would always be the most perfect human being and even though you would never see him in a non-romantic way, he would always love you.

All of a sudden your eyes lit up, and you jumped up from your chair. “He’s here!” You yelled as you dashed towards the entrance of the cafe.

Confusion settled between the three of them as both Seungkwan and Seokmin’s eyes fell on Mingyu.

“He? What’s she talking about?” Seungkwan asked urgently, but all Mingyu could do was furrow his eyebrows.

He? Who were you talking about? Was it a new friend? It couldn’t be your-

“Guys, meet my boyfriend!”

Mingyu felt blood rush up his ears as he stared at you. A boy, of their age, beamed at the three of them along with you, both of you clutching each other’s hands. The two of you were met by complete silence, which was only interrupted when Seokmin’s spoon clattered onto the ground.

“Oh, hi!” He said, laughing awkwardly to ease the sudden tension that had built up. You pulled your ‘boyfriend’ down onto a chair beside you and it was only when the said man smiled at Mingyu did the truth finally sink in.

You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend.

Suddenly the air felt a thousand times hotter than it already was, compressing against him like it was trying to squeeze all the breath out of him. He felt his stomach drop as you smiled at the man beside you, your eyes holding so much love for him.

A love that could never ever be his.

Mingyu felt like he was going to be sick. And his two friends were doing literally nothing to stop the nausea rising up his throat. Seungkwan was glaring very obviously at the newcomer while Seokmin smiled at him awkwardly.

You looked at the three of them expectantly, your smile dropping a little when none of them showed the reaction you were clearly hoping for.

Mingyu felt his heart crack a little at your slightly crestfallen face and that’s when Mingyu realised how stupid he was acting.

How could he be this selfish? Just because he was in love with you didn’t mean that you couldn’t date or fall for someone else. Just because he loved you didn’t mean that you were obliged to return the same feelings. Hell, you didn’t even know that he was in love with you in the first place (which, Seungkwan and Seokmin considered a bit dense of you, because of the fact that it was apparently very obvious that Mingyu was and always had been in love with you; in fact that’s how they had come to know about this even without him telling them).

“Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Mingyu. And this is Seungkwan and this is Seokmin.” He spoke, forcing a smile onto his face for your sake. You immediately beamed back at him and for a second, Mingyu almost forgot that your boyfriend was there.

“Hi Mingyu! I’m Jisung. Y/N’s talked so much about you! At first I thought your name was actually Gyu.” He laughed and Mingyu smiled back politely.

He engaged himself in a casual conversation with Jisung and you, kicking his two friends lightly under the table so that they could help him a bit too. He didn't want you to feel bad. After all, you had looked really excited when you had first told them about the surprise and he wanted you to be happy.

"I'm hurt, though." Mingyu said with a pout, so that you would understand that he was only joking (he wasn't). "You never told me that the reason you kept putting your club activities over meeting up with me was because you had a boyfriend. You could have introduced us much sooner."

You smiled at him apologetically, a small shy one that caused his heart to stutter a little.

“Hey, come on.” Jisung laughed, placing his hand over yours and giving it a squeeze. “Of course she would prioritise me, her boyfriend, over you, her best friend.”

“Excuse me?” Seungkwan asked as Mingyu felt his stomach twist in the most revolting way. He felt something catch his throat, his cheeks flaming at the comment more than the unbearable heat of the weather.

Mingyu wasn’t stupid; he could feel the sudden tension in the air at Jisung’s comment and your slightly shocked face so he tried laughing it off. He really, really tried smiling at his words, however awkward the smile was, but for some reason he just couldn’t. All he could do was tighten his grip on the glass as he gritted his teeth to stop himself from lashing out.

Never had he felt so much anger towards someone. No matter how much he tried to digest that statement, he just couldn’t stop the bitterness from rising to his mouth.

Because it was true.

Mingyu knew it was true, and so did everyone else present at the table.

He would always just be a best friend for you, while someone else played the role of your boyfriend. It was a part he could never play, no matter how much he loved you.

But Jisung telling him that definitely didn’t make anything better. It didn’t make his feelings for you go away or make him realise how stupid he was to fall in love with his best friend. If anything, it made him feel worse. It was like Jisung had on purpose crossed all boundaries, just to rile him up.

“H-Hey guys?” Seokmin interrupted, as though worried of what Mingyu might end up saying in the heat of the moment. “Didn’t the three of us promise to play on Joshua’s new xbox at two? If we want to reach on time then we need to leave now.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Seungkwan said, standing up and grabbing Mingyu’s elbow to pull him up. For a second Mingyu looked at his two best friends hurrying to leave in a confusion and then it finally hit him what they were actually trying to do.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry I forgot to mention this Y/N. But we need to leave now.” He said, forcing a smile onto his face just for you. You still looked taken aback from your boyfriend’s comment and just smiled back hastily at him.

"Uh, okay. I'm sure we all can hang out together later too!" You called after them, and they hastily turned to you, bidding you a goodbye.

The three of them walked in complete silence for a while, as though the situation had not yet sunk in.

A boyfriend. His biggest worry was now coming true.

Mingyu could still taste the bile in his mouth and no matter how much he swallowed, the lump in his throat was still choking him.

"Hey man…" Seokmin said, stopping abruptly and causing the other two to do the same. He looked at Mingyu sadly, before patting him gently on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He could feel tears sting his eyes as he balled his fists to stop them from falling. But no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't stop the feeling of his heart being ripped apart.

Why couldn't he be the one holding your hand right now? Why couldn't he be the one whom you looked at with so much love? Why couldn't he be the one who showered you with love and affection everyday?

The sadness clutched at his heart tightly as the first tear drop fell. Seungkwan clutched his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as though he could understand Mingyu’s feelings.

It's okay. He said to himself. You knew this would happen.

He hadn't felt this sad in years, not even when his friend Kwon Soonyoung made his entire friend group think he was the mafia when he wasn't, and definitely not when he had to force himself to keep a straight face when he heard guys talk about how pretty and awesome you were, or when you would open every single Valentine's Day letter and read them out to him, all the while giggling.

Mingyu felt Seokmin take his other hand and the comfort it gave him made him realise once again how grateful he was to the two of them.

He took in a shuddering breath to calm himself down before speaking. "Thanks a lot. For back there."

Seokmin shook his head, once again patting his back. "Don't mention it. I know this won't cheer you up and it probably sounds useless, but you both are going to two different colleges next month, right? Maybe, I’m saying maybe, you'll get over her. Maybe- maybe the lesser you see her, the easier it will be for you. Plus there's going to be so many other girls too, right?"

Mingyu just nodded, not having the heart to tell him how dull other girls looked to him beside you.

"But I just don't understand how Y/N still does not know that you are in love with her. I mean, even if she can't see it, surely her friends would have noticed?"

Mingyu shrugged, the feeling of dejection finally setting in as he watched the setting sun. But he always knew that one day or another, you would get a boyfriend that wasn't him and he would have to accept that.

After all, the promise that the two of you had made was just a stupid joke, right?

"Hey Mingyu. If you want, Soonyoung and I could accidently spill poison into that shit excuse of a boyfriend's coffee and Seungcheol or Jeonghan could cover it up."

He let out a laugh at this, feeling his mood lift up a bit. A bit.

"No thank you. I don't want any of you in jail."

"Damn, okay. What does she even see in that asshole anyways?"

Mingyu shrugged. "I guess everything that I lack."

"Hey, hey, hey." Seokmin shook his head at the two of them. "We need to cheer up! And you know what to do after a breakup?"

"Seokmin. To break up you need to be in a relationship in the first place. Mingyu hasn't even confessed to Y/N yet-"

"Do you," Seokmin flashed his eyes dangerously at Seungkwan. "Know what you need to do? That's right gentlemen. We need to stop by Joshua's house to play with his xbox."

"Did Joshua really buy a new xbox? Didn't he buy one last year?" Mingyu asked, already feeling slightly distracted.

"Yes and yes. You can thank me later on for being best friends with the richest kid from LA."

"He's friends with all of us."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Seungkwan."

𝐓𝐖𝐎. 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

The rain poured down heavily as he ran across the wet road, ignoring the way his wet clothes clung on to his skin, making him feel cold and clammy. His sneakers were soggy too, making it almost difficult to run, but he didn’t want to think of the consequences if he didn’t get to you quickly.

Mingyu came to a halt in front of a series of bars, taking out his phone hurriedly to check the address you had sent him.

Correction: he whipped out his phone to check the incoherent words you sent him with the line "oick ne up pld".

By now understanding your drunk texts had become a second nature to him; he could decipher it as easily as your normal ones. In fact, this current situation was such a common occurrence that he knew that it wouldn’t really hurt you if he reached a minute or two late but he could never get rid of that horrible feeling in his heart that something, something might happen to you if he didn’t find you.

Finally stepping into the bar whose name you had sent, Mingyu scanned the crowd for your familiar face. Being a Friday, the place was really crowded but it didn’t take him long to find you seated on one of the stools near the counter, emptying your glass in a flash before resting your forehead against the counter.

The tightening in his chest returned as he took in your expression, your drunken state causing his heart to shatter into millions of pieces.

He hated seeing you like this. He hated seeing you sad, he hated seeing you cry and he hated seeing you so heartbroken. It made him angry at the universe for making you cry, it made him angry at you ‘boyfriend’ for making you cry, and it made angry at himself.

It made him angry that he couldn’t protect you, or save you from feeling these emotions. It made him so angry that there were days he would just hate himself for not being able to make you smile. What was the point of being your best friend if he couldn’t protect you from those feelings? What was the point of loving you if you still got hurt over love?

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Mingyu walked over to your spot and sat down on the stool beside you. Then gently patting your back, he called your name softly. “Y/N? Can you hear me?”

You immediately shot up, looking around a little dazed until your eyes landed on him. Squinting at him a little, you asked in a slurred voice, “Gyu?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Let’s go home, okay?” He asked, still speaking softly as he gently slung your arm over his shoulder. You let him pull you up from your chair as he tightened his grip on your waist, and you buried your face in his neck.

Mingyu felt your nose tickle his neck as you wrapped both of your arms around his shoulders tightly, but he ignored it and instead focused on literally dragging you out of the crowded place. Once the two of you had made it out safely, he quickly hailed for a taxi so that you didn’t get wet (and because it was physically impossible for him to drag you all the way back home). After making sure you were seated comfortably in the backseat, he slipped in beside you.

“Y/N?” He asked, poking your knees as you rested your head on his shoulder. The strong smell of alcohol on you pricked his nose in irritation but he let you be, allowing you to use his shirt as a tissue. “Did you…break up again?”

You nodded slowly, sniffling once before looking up at him in teary eyes. Mingyu felt his heart break once again and it took him all his willpower to not wrap his arms around you and engulf you into a hug before you even spoke.

“He said- he said something was off. That he didn’t feel that I was really interested in him.” You mumbled into his shoulder. “I don’t get it though. I really liked him. What did he mean by ‘I wasn't interested in him’?”

“Maybe- maybe it's because you both have busy schedules?” Mingyu reasoned, not sure why he was trying for excuses for your boyfriend, now an ex. “Maybe he was under stress so he wasn’t able to figure things out in his end?”

“I don’t know.” You mumbled. “I-I thought it would work this time.”

It would work this time.

Mingyu had lost track of the number of times he had heard you spill those words, both in your drunken and sober state. It was a word he heard repeatedly over the years since college and he had thought that maybe after you got a job, he would stop having to hear those words.

But he still ended up hearing them after your every single break up, still sympathising with you like he was just your best friend and didn’t love you in any romantic way.

“Maybe it’s time you, uh, try something different?” Another common response. “Like maybe stop being in a relationship for a while, heal yourself completely and then try?”

“I’ve tried, Gyu. I’ve tried it so many times. But for some reason, I feel like something is missing in my life if I’m not in a relationship. You understand, right?”

He did not understand. Mingyu had never been in a relationship before thanks to his one sided love for you but even apart from that, he couldn’t understand how you could jump from one person to another in such a short span of time even though each of it ended in the same sad, messy way.

The taxi finally came to a halt, indicating that they had reached their destination. Mingyu quickly paid the fare and gently pulled you out of the vehicle, him still supporting your maximum weight.

Experience had taught him that dragging you all the way up to the fourth floor of the apartment not only was a bit strenuous to him but also hazardous to you (the dark corridors were not helping his clumsy nature in any way). So he slung your arms around his neck and pulled you onto his back, grabbing your knees as he made his way to the apartment elevator.

Once he stepped out of the elevator and reached his front door, he slowly let go of your one knee and reached for his pant pocket to get his house key-

Shit.

His hand came out empty and he felt panic grab him. Frantically, he reached for his other pocket but all he could feel was his wallet. In his hurry to get to you, he had forgotten to take his key with him.

How could he be so stupid? He had always been an organised person and always checked, double checked everything before leaving the house. How could he forget something so important, especially when you needed his help?

Shit, shit, shit. If we stay here any longer, Y/N’s going to catch a cold. Should I just go to a hotel-

The front door swung open and if Mingyu had been asked at that instant which god he believed in, Mingyu would have said Jeon Wonwoo without a second's hesitation.

“Oh god Wonwoo-” He began, as his older roommate just rolled his eyes, opening the door wider to let the two of you in. Carefully, Wonwoo helped a now unconscious you slide down from his back onto the couch. “How did you know-”

“How did I know you forgot your key?” Wonwoo asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Mingyu nodded, feeling Wonwoo’s disapproval through his stare. “Well, I went to your room to return your book but guess who had sneaked off so late at night?”

Mingyu averted his eyes down, feeling Wonwoo’s gaze pierce through him.

“It’s not that I have a problem with you hanging out so late at night. I’ve never even complained when Y/N crashes in your room. But why do you-” He inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself down. Mingyu felt guilt wash over him as Wonwoo continued. “But why do you run to her every single time? Do you have no self respect?”

He winced at his friend’s words even though he knew they were true. He had himself asked this question many times. Why didn’t he stop going to you everytime? Why did he force himself to shoulder your pain every single time? Why couldn’t he, for once, even hint that he loved you?

“You keep telling me it's the last time. Every single damn time.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I promise this will be the last time-”

“You always say that!” He snapped. “You say that it's going to be the last time, and then you go back, and then get hurt as she rambles about her boyfriend and you still stick to her like she’s not hurting you; like you aren’t breaking inside, like-”

“Then what do you want me to do? Ignore her messages? Leave her alone in this state?”

“No!” Wonwoo hissed. “But if you don’t set boundaries, you are going to be her doormat forever! You’ll be a pushover-”

“Fine, I get it!” Mingyu snapped, mad at Wonwoo for not understanding him and mad at himself for being exactly what Wonwoo had just called him. Your doormat. “I get it, okay? I get what you mean. But I can’t just- I can’t- Fine, I’ll- I’ll get over-”

Both the men flinched as you murmured in your sleep, causing them to finally pause. Wonwoo sighed as he shook his head, slowly walking back to his room.

“It’s up to you, Gyu. Either chase her or forget your feelings for her. But what you are doing now- it’s just going to hurt you more. I’ll be in my room if Y/N needs anything, okay?”

With that, he shut the door of his room, leaving Mingyu all alone with a snoring you.

“Gyu.” You said, swallowing your food abruptly to speak. It just resulted in the huge lump to get stuck in your throat, causing you to cough as you choked on it. Immediately Mingyu shot up from his chair and thumped your back, slowing it down to gentle pats as gradually stopped coughing. “Thanks.” You muttered, giving him a small smile as tears slid down your cheeks.

“Be careful.” He said worriedly, pouring you another glass of juice. You took a sip of it and set it down, before giving him a bigger smile. Mingyu felt his heart clench painfully as you beamed at him gratefully; as though he was your saviour.

“Thank you for the breakfast.” He just nodded, swallowing thickly as he tried to distract himself from your smile; anything that wouldn’t remind him of the way the sunlight from behind gave you a soft glow, the way the corner of your lips quirked up when you smiled, the way- “And- and thank you for yesterday. Thank you for always, actually.” You continued.

“Don’t thank me.” He said, sitting down back on his seat. “That’s what friends do anyways, right?”

Opposite to him, he heard someone snort. Both of you turned your attention to Wonwoo, who was busy reading the newspaper (Mingyu had never seen his roommate with a newspaper; in fact the newspapers were only for him).

“Ah,” you said, “thank you to you too, Wonwoo. Gyu told me that if it hadn’t been for your timely intervention, we would have frozen to death outside the house.”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at you, as though trying to find the sarcasm in your statement. But you were genuinely smiling at him and Mingyu kicked Wonwoo lightly under the table. You might be stamping on Mingyu’s heart (unknowingly of course) but he knew you were always thankful to Wonwoo.

“It’s okay.” He muttered, going back to the newspaper. “I was just helping my friend.”

“Yeah, thanks for that too.” You turned back to him and scrunched your nose. “Gyu can be a little oblivious to his surroundings sometimes, right? He needs someone to take care of him sometimes.”

“Absolutely right.” Wonwoo stated coolly, picking up an egg tart that Mingyu had made specifically for you. He eyed Mingyu, before continuing to speak. “He definitely doesn't keep his own feelings and health in mind and is always dashing to help others, unaware about himself or what state he is in.”

Mingyu laughed dryly at his roommate’s statement, before shooting him a glare. Wonwoo then continued again. “But Mingyu is really responsible. And always has everything under control.” (By now, Mingyu could feel sarcasm even in Wonwoo’s breath) “In fact most of the time, it’s him taking care of me. Besides, I think we can all agree that you need to be taken care of more than him.”

At this, Mingyu shot up from his chair once again, pulling you up by your elbow. “You are done right? I’ve already packed some lunch for you. Come on, I’ll drive you back home.”

You looked at him confused. “But- But I just started-”

“It’s okay, you can have them in the car!” He said, quickly picking up some tarts. You rose from your chair hesitantly, but nonetheless waved Wonwoo a small bye as you followed Mingyu out of the house.

Just before closing the main door, Mingyu glared one last time at his roommate, but the older one just smiled at him, mouthing the words, ‘enjoy your “alone” time with Y/N.’ He air quoted the word alone, causing Mingyu to roll his eyes.

As he walked towards his car with you behind him, he made a mental note to talk to Wonwoo about not betraying roommates.

“I’m sorry.” You said, as you finally settled in the car seat. Mingyu looked at you confusedly, not sure where this was coming from. You had never apologised to him before because there wasn’t any need to. He would have gone to pick you up if you had ever texted him, break up or not, drunk or sober. It wasn’t like the two of you were strangers either, where one had to apologise for the inconvenience caused.

Wait, Mingyu thought. Don’t tell me she knows about-

“I keep asking you to come so late at night and pick me up. And then I crash into your house just like that. I can understand why Wonwoo doesn’t like me.” You said, a note of sadness lingering in your voice.

“Oh.” He let out a small breath of relief, feeling a tension release from his chest at your words. Over the years, as Mingyu saw how horribly you dealt with breakups, he had learnt to control his feelings even more whenever he was around you and not let a slip of word either. He didn’t want you to end up like that because of him, even the thought of it brought a stabbing pain to his chest. “Oh, don’t be sorry. What are friends for, huh? I’ve known you all my life. If I can’t help you get you home safely, I think your mother will stop thinking of me as her son.” He glanced at your direction as you gave him a small smile.

But Mingyu could tell there was still some weight on your chest so he added, “And don’t worry about Wonwoo. He does like you. It’s just that- It's just that he is worried that one of us might get hurt, you know.” That one of us being me. “He’s a great guy, trust me. He’s nice and caring in his quiet ways. And he’s someone I trust with my life. Apart from you of course. And Seokmin and Seungkwan. And Joshua too.”

Mingyu saw you smile more brightly from the corner of his eyes as you reached forward and placed your hand over his, which was on the steering. Had it been someone else, Mingyu would have flinched and probably would have accidentally rammed the car into a wall (he was speaking this from experience; needless to say the female coworker didn’t even glance at his direction ever again despite the ‘crush’ she previously had on him).

But yours were so warm and comforting, he felt himself relaxing against your touch almost immediately, before realising you were probably watching him. Quickly he straightened up, and inhaled deeply to control his heart that was giving small squeezes every now and then.

“So, uh,” He began, venturing into the area he knew might be a bit painful for you. “What did he say this time?”

You seemed to understand who he was referring to by the way you withdrew your hands from his and crossed them in front of your chest. You frowned slightly though Mingyu wasn’t sure if it was because of the sunlight falling on your face or the content of yesterday night’s conversation.

“I don’t know, Gyu. I don’t know. He said he felt I wasn’t committed enough. What did he mean by that? I always readjusted my schedule to meet him, ditched my friends whenever he said he needed me and god knows what else. What more does he need?”

“Did you mention that to him?”

“Of course I did! And he just felt that even though my actions were doing those, it was obvious my heart was searching for something else! Like what is he? A shaman?”

“Er, didn’t the last guy, what’s his name? Haejoon? Didn’t he say the same thing?” Mingyu asked.

“Who’s side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“Good to know. But you are right, you know. They always say the same thing. Not only Haejoon and Jongmin. Starting from Jisung, they always say the same thing.”

“And what are you exactly searching for?” Mingyu asked as he carefully parked the car in front of your apartment. He really wanted to know what was the thing that you were looking for, the thing that caused your break ups and the thing that might finally give you solace. He wondered if he had what you were searching, though he doubted you would even bother looking for it in him.

You shrugged as you got out of the door, pulling the bag of food along with you as you got out. “I don’t know. I don’t know myself.” You said, though in Mingyu’s opinion you didn’t look that affected by it. Mingyu had always loved how cool and chill you always were about life but right now, he was really dying to know what was the key point that would win your heart forever.

“Here, give that to me. It’s heavy. I’ll carry it.” He said, reaching forward to take the bag from your hand but you just moved the handle away from him, a playful glint in your eyes.

“What? Just because you’ve been living in the gym off lately doesn’t mean I can’t lift this much.” You said, walking up the stairs.

Mingyu frowned and paused for a second, before chasing after you. “How did you know that? I don’t think I’ve told you-”

“Those arms don’t lie, Gyu.” You said with a wink, stopping in front of your door as you rummaged through your purse for the house key. “And besides, Seokmin keeps me updated with his pictures-”

“What? Seokmin has been sending you gym pictures?” Mingyu gasped, feeling his head spin. You just laughed at him teasingly as you walked into the house, a sound which made Mingyu’s stomach somersault but right now his head was in a whirl. “Y/N! Answer me!”

“And what will you do if I say yes?” You said, amused at his reaction as you placed the bag of food carefully on the dining table before turning to you. Your one hand was on your hip, the other on the edge of the table and you were smiling at him brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You looked so, so pretty that for a second Mingyu had forgotten to answer your question. It was only when you raised your eyebrows at him did he realise he was staring, and quickly looked down so that you wouldn’t see the heat creeping up his cheeks.

“Uh, it doesn’t really matter to me.” And it shouldn’t have mattered. Mingyu knew that Seokmin and you were just good friends, and that Seokmin was really faithful to his girlfriend but still, he couldn’t help feeling disgruntled about it. Why couldn’t it be his gym pictures you were asking for?

“Uh huh.” He heard you say, but it sounded closer than before. Mingyu looked up and almost jumped back, because you were so close to him now, that he could almost count the number of lashes on your eyes. He inhaled your scent; you smelled like his soap. But he never knew his soap smelt this good, never knew its scent could be this intoxicating, slowing down his reactions as you beamed at him mischievously. How the hell did you manage to smell better than him in his soap?

“You don’t need to pout so much, Gyu.” You said, cupping his cheeks as you scrunched your nose at him fondly. Despite being six feet, Mingyu felt like a small puppy in your arms, waiting for its master to pet it. It was taking all his resolve not to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you, or even melt into your touch this easily. When did he become so whipped for you?

“You know,” You began a bit absent mindedly this time as you dropped your arms and took a step back from him. “You look very cute when you pout. But I don’t want you to be sad on my behalf, Gyu.”

Mingyu blinked at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, me being sad isn’t your fault Mingyu. My breakups, getting wasted or even jumping into relationships so hastily isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

You turned your back towards him and walked back to the dining table, carefully taking out the lunch boxes he had packed for you. “I see how you look after each break up. You look so hurt, more hurt than even I feel and somehow that hurts me more. I hate seeing you so hurt. It breaks me-” You inhaled sharply, trying to control the trembling in your voice. “I hate calling you each and every time, I hate leaning on you so much, I hate dumping all my sorrow over you. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I fucking hate it so much.”

“But- But” He began, still not sure what you were trying to say. His mind was in a whirl and it was hard getting out the thoughts in his head. “But I already told you many times that I don’t mind picking you up. I don’t mind being beside you whenever you go through these! If I don’t do these, then who will?”

“And I hate seeing you sad.” You finally turned to face him and Mingyu felt his heart drop. You were…crying? “If you stop being sad, then I don’t mind you coming over to me. Otherwise…I feel selfish. I always feel like an awful person and I hate feeling like this so much. I’ve just wanted you to be happy, you know that Gyu.

He snorted. “Well, you are being selfish. You can’t stop me from doing this much for you. Do all our years of friendship mean nothing to you?” What was wrong with you? Why were you saying such things to him? Each word that escaped your mouth felt like a slash on his heart, like all the things he had done for you as a friend, as a person he loved and trusted, had meant nothing to you.

“Gyu-”

“No, don’t start again! Don’t okay, don’t! You don’t get to decide what I feel or what I want to do for you! You are being selfish if you think it’s okay for me to stand back and watch you fall apart.”

“Mingyu, please listen to me-”

“If you care about my feelings then stop breaking up just like that!” He yelled. The silence that followed was almost deafening and as Mingyu watched your tears fall more, he realised that he too was crying. His whole body was shaking as he clenched his fists, feeling an anger he had never felt before coursing through his veins.

Why did he do that? Why did he say that? Why was he feeling so hurt over your statement? Yes, you were being selfish by telling him to stand back and watch you cry every time, whether he loved you romantically or not.

But it hurt him more that you were so ready to give him up was like a huge blow to him. And because of what, it made you sad?

He swallowed thickly, breathing in slowly as he tried to calm down his racing heart. “If- if you want me to be happy, focus on yourself first. After all, it was you who started it.”

“And one kilogram of cheddar cheese.” Wonwoo said, and Mingyu reached out to take the last slab of cheese kept in the open freezer, but instead he found himself holding someone else’s hand, who was holding the cheese he was about to grab.

He immediately jerked his arm back and turned to profusely beg for forgiveness, but froze when his eyes met the other person, who too was staring back at him with a look of shock.

Your eyes averted down to your shoes as you took a step back almost immediately, clutching the part of your wrist he had just held. And he would have kept staring at you, trying to think of something to say after last week’s fight if it wasn’t for the sudden crash sound from beside you that snapped both of you out of your daze.

Mingyu turned to his right to see a curly haired girl staring back at the trio, all the items that were once in her hand on the floor now.

“Ni!” You gasped, running towards the girl to help her pick up the things. Mingyu too moved forward to help but Wonwoo was the fastest among the three, picking up the groceries and handing them to her.

As she took it slowly from his hands, Mingyu all of a sudden realised that she wasn’t staring at all the three of them, she was staring at his roommate. At Wonwoo.

His eyes darted to you and you too wore an expression of shock and surprise, as your head moved between Ni and Wonwoo, as though finally understanding the situation.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked, the question snapping her out of her trance as she looked away, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Then turning back to him she nodded a little, before asking, “Are you okay?”

Wonwoo blinked at her for a second before she realised what she had just said, flushing once more as she furiously corrected herself again. “I-I mean, thanks a lot. For helping me, I mean.”

Mingyu looked at you once again and smirked, as you too mirrored back his expression. He very well could see where this situation was going and for once he hoped that Wonwoo wouldn’t screw it up.

“No problem.” Wonwoo said, before looking back at Mingyu. “So, uh, Mingyu should we-”

“Oh hey, are you sure you don’t want any help?” Mingyu interjected, signalling at Ni with his eyes, hoping she would get the hint. “Like um, do you want any help getting stuff from the top shelf because-”

because you are short? Was that rude? Was he overdoing it? But like he was blessed to have you as his best friend, you came to his rescue immediately. “Because you are short! And Wonwoo is tall! There’s nothing wrong in asking a sexy, handsome, tall man to help, right?”

Mingyu had always thought it was your charming personality and unearthly beauty that got you the long list of lovers but now he made a mental note to add smooth talker to it. Because while he was sure that if he had said that statement Wonwoo would have said no, he could literally see the wheels in his roommate’s brain turning as he mulled over your words.

“Sure.” He said, turning back to give Ni a smile. “Where’s your grocery list? I could help you.” Saying that he turned to look at you, tilting his head as he said something to you through his eyes. You pursed your lips a bit but looked at Ni and gave her a smile.

The two of them then disappeared down the aisle, leaving Mingyu alone with you, the coolness from the freezer all of a sudden disappearing as he felt the awkwardness settle in.

It had been a week since the argument the two of you had but none of you had made an approach to talk it out. And now seemed to be the perfect time to talk about it but once again the two of you just stared at the floor, waiting for each other to break the ice.

“Uh, so about that day…” You began, as both of you looked up at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean, yeah, even I’m sorry so-”

“Well you shouldn’t be.” You interrupted him. Then taking in a deep breath, you stepped closer to him, looking down again. You looked so nervous and confused, as though you weren’t sure of how to apologise to him. “I mean, you shouldn’t be sorry because you were right. You were trying to help me, but, you know- I’m trying to sort out my feelings still, trying to find out what’s wrong and uh,-”

“Hey.” He said softly, putting his hands on your shoulder causing you to look up at him. You looked so sorry that Mingyu almost forgave you then and there. But he knew the two of you needed to talk it out so instead he said, “How about we talk about this after a few more days? I think we both are affected by this so I think we both should sort out our feelings and thoughts and then talk about it. You’re right, I do get hurt everytime I see and I know that hurts you too. But you very well know I can’t leave you like that, can I? If our roles were reversed you would do the same for me.”

You opened your mouth to say something but then closed it, slowly nodding as you let out a sigh and leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder. He felt his muscles tense as he inhaled in your scent, but relaxed almost immediately when you wrapped your arms around his waist. He did the same too, pulling you in closer as you stood like that for a few seconds before breaking the silence again with a chuckle.

“When did you become so mature, Mingoo?” You asked, causing him to groan. “Back when we were kids it was always me taking care of you. When did you grow up so much?”

“Hmmm, maybe if you took care yourself a little bit more-”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, pulling away from him to look at him. You smiled at him softly, the familiar heat sparking in his heart as you nodded at him. “You are right. I promise I’ll get back to you in a few more days. Wait for me till then?”

I’m always waiting for you.

“You guys are terrible.” You groaned, tearing the wrapper of the triangular kimbap. You glared at five men sitting opposite to you individually, before taking a bite of food in your hand. “This is not what I had asked you all for!”

“Blame that on Mingyu.” Seungkwan grumbled, shooting a glare in his direction as he picked up a fish cake bar and unwrapped it, dipping it into his ramyeon cup.

Mingyu could feel the disappointed look of his friends on him, so he cleared his throat and tried to divert the blame away from him. “Come on guys. You all love eating at this convenience store. We’ve eaten so many times here during our college days! Doesn’t it bring back memories again? Just the five of us, meeting up after a month and enjoying a meal here? Can't you guys feel the nostalgia?”

He felt you slap his shoulder lightly, and he grabbed it with an exaggeration. hoping that would make you soft for him and you would stop scolding him so badly.

“Did I ask you to set up a reunion meeting? I asked you to pick a restaurant according to the guys’ convenience because I wanted to treat them!” You pursed your lips and glared at him once more, and the situation would have scared Mingyu out of his wits if he couldn’t hear Seokmin’s giggling from the corner.

“Sheesh.” He muttered, rubbing his shoulder. He was used to being blamed by the group for the simplest reasons such as breathing in the wrong way but he really hadn’t meant to mess up your well intentioned plans. “It’s fine, just eat up. Think that we cannot afford to eat at those pricey restaurants right now and eat up. Besides, I know you guys love this. Weren’t you craving cup ramyeon even yesterday, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo froze in the middle of slurping his noodles, before putting it down and saying, “I said I was craving your noodles.”

Mingyu let out a gasp, not expecting to be betrayed even by his own roommate, (it was evident Wonwoo hadn’t listened to his lecture about not betraying roommates) but it was swallowed by your laughter. He turned to look at you just as you stopped, chuckling at him as though still enjoying the joke.

The dim lights of the neon signboard hit you at an odd angle, but it was enough to make you look like an angel. You let out a giggle as he stared back at you, the smile growing on his face involuntarily. He could see the tiredness from the entire day’s work on your face, but you kept smiling back at him with such tenderness and love that Mingyu felt like his heart was going to explode.

Someone cleared their throat at the table, snapping both of you out of your daze and you immediately knitted your eyebrows back into a frown. “Oh gosh, Kim Mingyu! We could have been eating barbeque but now here we are stuck-” You said, shoving another fish cake packet to his face, “-eating this amazing, nostalgia inducing food!”

“Oh god, it brings back so many memories.” Seokmin sobbed, rubbing the corner of his (dry) eyes. Mingyu rolled his eyes at his friends’ dramatics, but he couldn’t help smiling at them. “It reminds me of the time Mingyu and I kissed.”

“Wha-” His voice was caught off as Seungkwan spat out the water he had been drinking, spluttering and gasping for breathe as Wonwoo thumped his back hurriedly. And even though Mingyu too was worried about him, the only thing he could do was let out a cry because unfortunately for him, he had been sitting opposite to the Seungkwan, causing all the spat out water to fall on his face.

“Seungkwan!” He cried as the table erupted in another round of laughter.

“Oh my god Mingyu, are you crying? Don’t cry baby!” Joshua asked, mischief laced in his voice. Of all the seats I could have sat on, why did I pick the one next to Joshua? Joshua grabbed a few napkins from the table and began dabbing it on his face, cleaning his ‘tears’. “Don’t cry, Gyu. We’ve got your back always.” Then dropping his voice a little, he added, “You know we’ve been joking from the very beginning right?”

Mingyu took the tissues from his hand as he nodded, a small laugh escaping him as he rubbed the rest of his face clean. “You guys are mental.”

Suddenly he felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around his torso, causing him to inhale sharply as you leaned against his body, glaring at the other guys. “Yeah, why are you pestering my poor baby?”

Oh god. Oh god. He tried to control his face from heating up, balling his fists so that he didn’t lose his senses due to your scent. Seungkwan must have noticed his sudden change in demeanour because he snorted and said, “That’s one big baby you have.”

“Besides,” Joshua said, pulling him away from your embrace and into his instead. “You were pestering him earlier too.”

“Getting pestered is just Mingyu’s love language.” You countered back. “But of course, it should be only by us. Right Gyu?”

“I don’t want to be pestered by any of you though?” He said, to which Joshua pressed his finger to his lips, shushing him. “If we don’t pester someone as nice as you, someone who can always laugh it off because he knows we are just joking and we actually love him, who else will we pester?”

“Wow,” Mingyu said sarcastically. “You guys are such angels. I love my friends who pester me!”

“I don’t pester you though?” Wonwoo said, causing ‘ey’s and ‘fucking liar’s to rise from around the table. He just laughed at them before raising his can of beer, saying, “To our friendship!”

“To our friendship.” Everyone echoed back, raising their drinks too, before taking a large sip of it.

Mingyu could feel the alcohol slowly settling in his system, a pleasant buzz tingling his entire self. The rest of the night passed by with such speed that one minute he was still eating and joking with his friends and in the next minute he found himself walking beside you, taking you back home.

He had insisted on walking you back home despite your refusal, because apart from knowing that it was dangerous for you to walk alone at night especially in this slightly intoxicated state, he also knew that his own mother would kill him if she came to know that he had let you go just like that.

Presently the two of you were walking through an uphill alley, you giggling at some old memory while he complained about the unfairness of it to you.

Suddenly you grabbed his arm, causing his heart to skip a beat as you jerked him towards you, looking at him with shining eyes.

“Gyu,” you whispered, even though there was no reason to do so, “Want to see something special?”

“Special?” He asked, his voice a little higher than he had expected it to be. Your face was so close to his that he could almost feel your breath against his neck, gulping slowly to control his breathing. “We- we have work tomorrow. Don’t you think it’s a bit too late-”

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport.” You scolded him lightly, before smiling at him softly. He prayed to god that the warm, giddy sensation he was feeling in his body was due to the alcohol and not due to how you were smiling at him, eyes shining in a dangerous way as though you were about to show him a secret that was meant only for him.

“Okay.” He said, straightening up a bit so as to put some distance between the two of you. “But only if we come back within half an hour-”

“Oh, you can just crash in my house.” You said, all of a sudden giving him a light shove backwards. He looked at you in surprise as you suddenly took off, screaming at the top of your voice, “Race you to the top!”

“Why, you-” He began, before starting to run too, laughing at your dirty method of cheating. You knew you wouldn't be able to beat him, not when he had such long legs and had a much better stamina than you. But there was no way Mingyu was going to let you win, not when you had decided to win like this.

He caught up with you within a few seconds, throwing his arms around you as he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. You shrieked with laughter as the two of you stumbled, doing your best to break from his grip but all those days in the gym had truly paid off as all you could do was claw at his arms helplessly.

“Okay! Okay!” You yelled, gasping for breath because of how much you were laughing. “You win! You win, okay?” But he still didn’t let go, burying his face into your shoulder as he giggled continuously. He could feel that he was losing his grip on you because of his sides aching due to his laughter, but you felt so warm in his arms, your clothes really soft and smelling like you that it made him pull you into him even more.

In the back of his mind Mingyu wondered if the two of you were causing too much ruckus so late in the night, but all thoughts were pushed back when you suddenly turned in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Time slowed down as he felt his stomach drop as you beamed at him gently, a soft smile on your beautiful lips as you tilted your head a little, looking at him with nothing but pure adoration. He felt his arms instinctively tighten around your waist, his breath hitching slightly as you leaned into him, noses almost brushing.

“This is it.” You whispered, your breath ghosting his lips. His mind was swirling as his heart raced, sure you could feel it with how close you were pressed to him. You smelt so, so good; it was enough to cloud all of his judgement. His knees had turned completely jelly at the way you were gazing at him, mouth slightly apart and it took him all his willpower to not drop you as you leaned your entire weight on him.

“Wh- what is this?” He asked, finally finding his voice as he forced his mind to come back to the present. He had to focus. He couldn’t let himself sweep away because of this.

The corners of your lips curled up a little, an action Mingyu had always found endearing. “This is the special thing I wanted to show you.”

He blinked, trying to process your words. Tearing his eyes away from your face, he looked around slightly bewildered, still not understanding what you meant.

You laughed lightly, and he could feel your chest rapidly rising and falling against his. “No, you idiot. Don’t look around. Just look at me. Us. We are the special thing I wanted to show you.”

He inhaled sharply at your words, finally the meaning settling in.

You were right. What more could be special to him than the friendship between both of you? The two of you loved each other so much, admitted you loved him platonically, but still, it was such a beautiful thing. The two of your actions and mannerism had been shaped by each other’s influences. He carried a part of you just like you carried a part of him.

“You're right.” He said, exhaling slowly as your eyes fluttered due to his breath. “You are so special to me, Y/N. I- I love you so much Y/N. I love you so much.” His chest contracted painfully when he said those words but he knew if he didn’t say them, he would combust even if you didn’t get the second meaning of these innocent words.

You sighed contentedly in his arms, before wrinkling your eyebrows in a frown. Then taking in a deep breath you said, “Mingyu, I- I’m terribly sorry for yelling at you that day.”

“What?” He asked, a little taken aback as he hadn’t expected you to bring that conversation back up for a while, and certainly not now. You just dipped your head low, until your forehead was resting on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I messed up big time. And I made you feel that I was using you.”

Something caught his throat at your apology, so he just chose to keep quiet and listen to you, opting to rub small comforting circles on your back instead.

“It’s just that I felt really bad seeing you look so sad on my behalf. Because of me. And I know I asked you back then to pick me up, not to feel hurt but you were right. Because like you said, even if it happened to you I would feel upset. Whether or not you ask me to stay out of it.” You finally looked up at him, lips slightly apart as your eyes ran all over his face. Even though you weren’t crying, he could see that your eyes had turned glossy. “And you were right. I know we already talked about this but still it was half assed so I feel like you deserve this apology. I want you to know that I’m truly sorry and I don’t want you to get hurt. The best way to make sure you aren’t getting hurt is to by making sure I just don’t jump into relationships. I was never a thousand percent sure of any of my relationships so far and yet I went into them and they all resulted in the same way. So I’m going to wait for the one that I’m a thousand percent sure about and only then go for it. How does that sound?”

“Good.” He said, giving you a small smile. “I just want you to be happy and take care of yourself, okay?”

You smiled back at him and nodded, before pushing yourself away from his grip. His disappointment at the loss of warmth soon disappeared when you grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, until you were leading him into an empty park.

“This,” You said pointing at the sky. “Is what I actually wanted to show you by the way.”

“You…wanted to show me the moon? Something we could have seen from your rooftop and reduced the risk of freezing to death while walking through some lonely street?”

“Hahaha. Very funny. I’m pointing at the stars.”

He blinked at you, pretending to look offended. “I thought you said we were the special thing you wanted to show me?”

“Yeah, that too. But since you have a very kind and considerate best friend, I even wanted to show you the stars. And as a sorry for the bitch I was.” If you had said this in an alternate universe where Mingyu and you were dating, he might have dropped some flirty comment about you being the brightest star in his eyes or something but since he wasn’t, he decided to keep it to himself instead.

He followed your suit and craned his neck to see the night sky, not finding a single speck of light in the ink black sheet overhead.

“There’s no stars, though?” He asked amusedly, watching you as you swore and kept turning your head, as though changing the angle of observation might help you find one. “I did tell you years ago that light pollution has made it impossible, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I know.” You muttered, still searching for them (Mingyu found it endearing on how persistent you were of showing him the stars and would have fallen for you more if he wasn’t already completely enamoured by you). “I just- I just thought since this was uphill and was a little empty it might be a good spot.”

That statement caught him off surprise. “You searched up for this place?”

Finally you gave up with a sigh, walking towards him in a dejected manner. “Yeah, yeah I did. I knew you would walk me home so I spent the entire night yesterday on Google Earth trying to find a good spot.” Your shoulder slumped a little as you sat down on a bench, Mingyu following suit. “I guess I should have come here physically and checked it before getting you here. Or looked around more on foot instead.”

“What the hell, I literally just told you it’s dangerous for you to roam around in the night on your own.” He said but it didn’t remove the pout from your face.

“I just wanted to show you how truly sorry I am. That I really, really want you to be happy.”

He reached over and grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. It was surprisingly warm despite how much the temperature had dropped, and he hoped that you too could find comfort in his warmth.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I already forgave you when you said you would finally prioritise yourself. Besides, I can already see Orion up there.”

“What?” You asked, your head snapping up. “Where?”

Mingyu laughed at your eagerness, before you let out a ‘Hey!’ and punched him lightly. “Oh please. You are forgetting that I’m an artist. The best artist you've seen, right?” He wondered for a second if you still remembered that incident from twenty years ago, when you had claimed that he was the best artist you had ever seen.

Your lips stretched into a smile at the memory, causing his heart to jump that it was not only him that remembered such trivial things of your friendship.

“Yeah,” You muttered, tightening your grip on his hand as you gently rested your head on his shoulder. “You are the best artist I’ve ever known. Will always be.”

As Mingyu rested his head against yours and closed his eyes, he realised just how special the word us was.

“Good morning, handsome.”

Mingyu swivelled on his chair at this weird greeting, only to find Seokmin leaning against the glass door frame, arms crossed over his chest with a rather flirty smirk on his face. He just groaned and rolled his eyes while Joshua just let out a small laugh.

“What?” Seokmin asked, looking offended as his smile suddenly dropped, as though his girlfriend had just called him ugly.

“Go back to work, Seokmin. Don’t you and Seungkwan have any sound effects to add to the last game?” Mingyu asked.

Seokmin just stuck his tongue out, before walking over to Joshua, who was still laughing at his antiques. “I wasn’t even talking to you. I was greeting Shua.” He said, and Mingyu rolled his eyes once again.

“What brings you here?” Joshua asked, picking up one of the hundred cups of coffee he and Mingyu had kept in between them and handing it over to Seokmin. But Seokmin just shook his head, opting to take Mingyu’s sandwich instead. He raised his eyebrows a little at Mingyu, asking if he could eat it and the latter nodded. Seokmin took a bite of it, chewing slowly before sitting down on an empty chair.

“Sorry, can't really drink coffee much nowadays. And I already had one in the morning. Apparently it dries out your vocal folds and mucus.” He said. “Makes working for the entire day hard but what else can I do if we are so broke that us sound engineers itself need to record and compose apart from our usual role?”

“Don’t let Wonwoo hear you about us being broke.” Mingyu chuckled, before remembering about the other person in the sounds department. “Oh my god, how is Seungkwan surviving then?”

“He says if he drinks it in excess it will nullify the effect.”

“Oh shit, Seungkwan’s going to retire even before we hit mid life crisis.” Joshua joked.

Seokmin too smiled before pointing at all the coffee cups on their desks. “Well looking at all those cups, I can say the same about the graphics department to be honest.”

“Oh this?” Mingyu asked, pointing at the cups. “This isn’t for us, it's for watering the plants.”

“Heh.” Seokmin said, before standing up once he had done with the sandwich. “Then you guys will need more of it because we just got a whole new batch of houseplants.” He placed a file on their desk, clearly another new project, before saying, “God bless Y/N. She’s the best salesperson we’ve ever had.”

“Y/N gave this?” Mingyu asked in amusement, picking up the file to go through it. “She trusts us too much, considering the fact I already told her we still haven’t finished the last client’s game yet.”

“It’s fine.” Joshua said, leaning back against his chair. “He’s a nice author. He literally told me, ‘It took me a lot of time to come with this huge storyline so I know it will take you guys even more time’.”

“I wish Wonwoo would hire Y/N though.” Seokmin groaned. “He’s a great programmer and all but I just don’t get why he hates her so much. He was pretty fine with her at the beginning.”

Mingyu felt his cheeks burn as Joshua said, “Isn’t it obvious? He can’t stand seeing Y/N use Mingyu even if she’s clueless. Personally, sometimes when Mingyu’s giving her puppy eyes, I want to scream, cry, throw up and shake her until she starts seeing his feelings.”

“Looks like Wonwoo isn’t the only blind one among us.”

Mingyu snorted at this, before adding, “I don’t give her puppy eyes by the way.”

“You really don’t know yourself then. You always looked like a dog to me.” Seokmin commented.

“Wow. Wow. I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Think whatever you want. Just because all those girls line up to see your biceps at the gym doesn’t mean I think you are handsome.”

“Are you salty that you had one less fan girl than Mingyu, Seokmin?” Joshua asked sweetly to which Seokmin just laughed. “No way, I have a girlfriend and they all know it. Me and Seungkwan are committed to our beautiful girlfriends. It’s always the two of you flexing your biceps a little too hard in front of them. At least Wonwoo is chad about it and not like you bitchless losers.”

“Oh no, are you forgetting Wonwoo’s new date? That cute girl he met at the grocery store? Also, it's not our fault you guys managed to find love at high school and college. Adult life wasn’t the fun and thrills they had promised us.” Mingyu complained. “Besides, I’m in a life long one sided love with my other best friend, not my fault.”

“Yeah, and I had a girlfriend too.” Joshua said, to which Mingyu and Seokmin deadpanned at him.

“You mean you had a hook up with Wonwoo’s ex-secretary.”

“And she just quit the next day. Out of the blue. And no one would have known if Wonwoo didn’t grill us on if we did something to her. Hell he even made you write a thousand times that you will not have office sex. You are lucky it's just the five of us here.”

Joshua raised his arms defensively. “Hey, I told you I don’t know why she quit. I never forced her to do anything. I would never. But the question should be why does Wonwoo need a secretary when he’s actually at the same level as us? Just because opening a gaming company was his initial idea doesn’t mean that he is the CEO now. We all contributed.”

“Are we all rebelling against Wonwoo today?” Mingyu asked with a giggle.

Seokmin pointed at the door. “Should I go get Seungkwan?”

“Instead of the secretary, Wonwoo could have hired Y/N. Wasn’t she the topper of her class? I aspire to achieve her dedication.” Joshua said.

“In fact, she dropped this file personally this morning. Asked me to imitate her and wish you ‘handsome men’ a good morning once it got clearance from Wonwoo.”

Mingyu’s mouth fell open in disgust. “You tried imitating her? God, that was so bad I thought you were flirting with us. You captured her horribly.”

Joshua pointed at Mingyu with wide eyes as he laughed. “See? This is why Wonwoo won't hire Y/N. She could straight up rob us and Mingyu will jump to her defence even then.”

He rolled his eyes at them and finally looked down at the file in his hands, trying to skim through the content. Suddenly he felt bile rise up his throat and constrict his air passage as he read more and more, stomach dropping at the rather familiar storyline.

“Oh my god, it’s so frustrating!” Seokmin cried, frustratingly wiping away his nonexistent tears. “Why won’t Y/N look at you?”

“Don’t you guys start too.” Mingyu mumbled, turning back to his desk. He had finally finished reading the storyline of the new game and the frustration of the scene suddenly hit as the air around him changed to seriousness, all the humour from before gone.

“What’s wrong?” He heard Joshua ask but he just shook his head, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

“I’m sorry guys. We need to get back to work.” He said, before switching his computer back on. Through the corner of his eyes he saw Joshua pick up the file and lean in to read, Seokmin peering at it over his shoulders.

“Oh…” Seokmin said after some time. “Mingyu, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t” He let out a humourless laugh. “Don’t. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No, you are not.” Joshua began angrily. “If Y/N would just-”

“Just drop it please.” He cut Joshua off, closing his eyes as he buried his face in his palm. If Y/N could this, if Y/N could that, if only he was a bit more bolder-

“Even a game character manages to confess his love to his best friend and end up together. Just how- just how pathetic am I?”

He could feel his friend’s sad stares on his back and it just worsened his mood. Every bit of him just wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

Why couldn’t he fall out of love with you? Why couldn’t he just stop loving you? Why did you have to be so goddamn perfect in every way that no matter how hard he tried, he still ended up pining for you?

“It’s just a game.” He said, his voice thicker than he had expected it to be. “It’s just a game. Let’s go back to work.”

“This isn’t a date, by the way.” Mingyu clarified, causing the girl sitting opposite to him to give him a dry look.

“It’s not. It’s a self realisation therapy from your pathetic love life.” She said, slicing into her meat. Mingyu winced at her words but couldn’t say anything back because, well, she was right.

When Minghao had learnt that Y/N had broken up with her umpteenth boyfriend, he had decided to take matters into his own hand and asked (read: forced) Mingyu to go on a date with none other than Joshua’s sister, Julia.

“If Joshua finds out you’re having a dinner date with me, you’re dead.” She said, as though being able to read his mind.

“And if Wonwoo finds out I’m having a dinner date with his new secretary, I’m dead. In other words, I’m in a risky position of being murdered by my best friends.”

At this, Julia laughed, the mood of the table finally changing from annoyance at being forced to randomly go on a ‘date’ to that of one Mingyu was used to whenever he used to play with her everytime he would come over to Joshua’s house.

“It’s okay Dr. Black. I’ll find the culprit and make sure he gets what he deserves. You know how good I’m at Cluedo.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu said with a smile at the memory of the younger girl always defeating them at the murder mystery board game. “But the problem is Wonwoo is too smart while Joshua’s really creative. It might be hard for you to guess who did it.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure all twelve of them want you to be alive for a very long time so that you can get married to Y/N and grow old and boring with her.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“By the way, I’m amazed by all of their deduction skills. Except the four who always hang out with me, I mean. How did they all come to know?”

“Duh.” She rolled her eyes at him. “It was so obvious that even Soonyoung didn’t need to blabber away. Hell, even I knew it before you realised it.”

“Wow, thanks.” He muttered. “Good to know that I’m obvious to everyone except that one person I wish would know.”

Julia chuckled, shaking her head a little. “You are to blame too. You always run to her beck and call no matter what.”

“That’s because-” Mingyu opened his mouth to explain but she just raised her hand, cutting him off.

“Don’t give me that crap about doing everything for your best friend. Because yes, you should be doing a lot of things for your best friend. But there’s a limit to everything, Mingyu. Knowingly or unknowingly, she’s trampling on your feelings. Excess of even good things isn’t healthy for us.”

His eyes dropped to his food, which suddenly felt unappetizing. He swallowed the food stuck in his throat, feeling a bad taste in his mouth.

“But I- But I just don’t know how to tackle this.” He whispered, and Julia reached out to hold his hand lightly. He looked up at her and saw the sadness and sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s okay.” She whispered. “It’s okay, Mingyu. We all come across situations where we might feel like we are being trampled by the person we love in some way or the other, even if it’s not their intention. And you know why that happens? Because in that scenario, they aren’t communicating with each other. But all relationships are made on understanding. How can the two of you even be friends if you can’t understand each other? And yet, it is not within our power to be able to completely understand every feeling, emotion and thought of the other person. At that time, you need to communicate. You need to speak out. Ever thought of dropping hints?”

He stared at her. “ You…want me to confess to her?”

She shook her head once more.“Not confess, silly. Stay completely away from Y/N for a week or two. Sort out your thoughts. And then approach her. Objectively speak out your thoughts and feelings to her. She might be taken aback by it but it’s okay, give her some time. She’ll get back to you.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Mingyu asked. His eyes must have been showing his fear because she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before drawing it and sitting back.

“Well then she’s not the one for you, nor is she a good friend. Whether she says yes or no doesn’t matter. And judging by how you are always by her side whenever she has a breakup, I’m sure you can accept her no too. But if she runs away without any proper response, then well it’s time to move on. You are a wonderful person, Mingyu. We all want the best for you.”

He gulped. “I know. I know. But it’s just so- just so hard, you know. I just feel like I’ll lose her. I just feel like I’ll lose.”

“Lose what?”

“Y/N. My love. My best friend. My everything.”

“You mean you feel like you are a lose-her.”

“Julia.” He said, though he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But don’t worry. In that one week you’ll stay away from her to organise yourself, I’ll be there with you and help you out. And I’ll make sure all the twelve of us do. You have to, Mingyu. You have to. You have to take a break from her. And think about everything clearly.”

He smiled at her more brightly this time, head clearing up. She was right. “Yeah, yeah. I will. I will, don’t worry. What would I do without you? What would we do without you?”

“I know right.” She said, all the seriousness from a minute ago gone as she stuffed an entire piece of bread in her mouth. “This is why Minghao set you up on a date with me.”

“For the last time,” Mingyu groaned, “this isn’t a date. It’s a self realisation therapy from my pathetic love life.”

“-self realisation therapy from your pathetic love life.”

The two of them stared at each other as they said the exact same thing at the same time, before bursting out into laughter.

“See?” Julia said after a while, laughter slowly bubbling away. “You are already getting better as you slowly realise.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mingyu said. “Now let’s just hope Wonwoo or Joshua doesn’t kill me tomorrow itself when they find out about today’s plan.”

“By the way,” She said, biting into the last morsel of bread. “I’m curious about my job offer. Why did Wonwoo ask me if I wanted to become his secretary? Not that I’m complaining since I’ve always been envious of the projects Seokmin, Seungkwan, Joshua and you used to do but yeah, I’m just curious because this was quite sudden.”

“Oh that.” Mingyu coughed, not sure how he was supposed to answer this question when it could lead to his partial balding in case Julia pulled his hair in anger. “So, um, Joshua. He, uh, he had sex with Wonwoo’s old secretary so I guess he wants you to keep an eye on-”

“He did what?!” She spluttered, proceeding to stand up and then froze, eyes looking at something behind Mingyu in horror.

Just as Mingyu was about to turn to see what had happened, someone behind him let out a yell.

“Taehyung, I already told you no!”

The familiar voice caused him to turn faster than he had expected, and he nearly jumped out of his seat to get to you. In two strides he was by your side, yanking the man’s hand away from your arm.

He could feel your shocked face on him but he ignored it, choosing the focus on the man in his grip who was making his blood seethe in anger. “What the fuck,” he said, his voice coming out much lower than he had expected, “Do you think you are doing?”

“And who the fuck are you?” The man glared, trying to yank his hand out of Mingyu’s grasp but he just tightened it, not letting the man budge even a bit. Through the corner of his eyes, he could see a few staff come over to them to break the fight, but all he could see was red, especially when your next few words came out in a scared whisper.

“G-Gyu.” You whispered and he felt a small tugging at his elbow. “You don’t have to-”

“Gyu? Oh, so you are Gyu? Well fuck off asshole before I beat the shit out of you for ending everything between us.”

“We ended because of you.” You said and Taehyung snarled at you, causing Mingyu to give his hand another squeeze, diverting Taehyung’s attention back to him.

“You were just fucking paranoid, you bastard. Don’t even try to blame it on others. Y/N’s better off without you.”

“Oh yeah?” He sneered. “And how would you know that considering the fact you are the reason we broke up?”

What? As if I could even make a move on Y/N. But instead he said, “Is that so? Well good for her then. My girlfriend doesn’t need to date insecure idiots like you.”

Mingyu felt the air around him drop as the three people around him (Julia had managed to pry you off him) stared at him, but he just prayed that you wouldn’t look very surprised and give away the lie.

In fact, he was sure Taehyun would begin laughing at their faces but that seemed to do the trick. His eyes darted between Mingyu and you, sputtering out words as his face reddened with each passing second.

“You- you- you cheater!” He began, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You liar, you slu-”

“That’s enough.” Mingyu growled, grabbing Taehyung’s collar to drag him out of the restaurant, which wasn’t so hard considering the differences in their builds (he never thought that going to the gym would help him out in this way). Once outside, he let go of the other man, eyeing him disgustedly.

“Stay away from Y/N.” He said flatly, pushing the man a little when he tried to hurl himself at Mingyu. He saw Julia and you come down through the stairs slowly, the former holding you gently as you made your way down. “If not, I’ll call the police on you and maybe even get a restraining order.”

“Fuck, a restraining order just because I want to get back to her? You are as fucking messed up as that bitch.” He growled.

“I will call the police right now if you don’t stop calling my girlfriend names like that. Besides, what you are doing is stalking. So get lost now before I actually remove the front two teeth of yours.”

Holding his wrist gingerly, Taehyung gave the trio another disgruntled group, before turning the other direction and walking away, muttering something about mental people ending up together.

As Mingyu watched his figure disappear down the street, he could feel the adrenaline rush quickly disappearing from his veins. The cool night air pressed against him as he felt his body temperature finally come down from its previous risen state, chest rising up and down as he tried to control his breathing slowly.

Mingyu turned to look at you, and felt his heart clench painfully as he took in your shrunken appearance, nodding vigorously as Julia whispered into your ear, rubbing circles on your back. Walking up to you, he took your hands in his and sighed, before asking, “Are you okay?”

Your eyes darted to his and stayed there, lips slightly parted, taking in his features as though it was the first time you were seeing him. You stared at him for a few seconds before Mingyu asked again, feeling worry cloud his mind. “Y/N?”

Saying your name seemed to snap you out of your trance as you jerked away from him, removing your hands from his as you rubbed your arms.

“Yeah.” You said, your voice strained as your eyes roamed over his face with an unreadable expression. Now he was getting really worried. What else had Taehyung done to you? Had it happened before? Though Mingyu knew about your obsessive ex, you had never mentioned to him about Taehyung disturbing you before.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said, finally looking down. “Thank you for pretending to be…my boyfriend.” The way you said ‘my boyfriend’ sounded foreign to Mingyu’s ears, like you were having difficulty pronouncing it. It did hurt him a bit but he was more preoccupied by the way you were acting.

He sighed, taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. “You are not fine.”

“I- I-” You opened your mouth to speak but then closed it, as though still trying to figure out whether or not you were okay. Mingyu could see your mind running in a million different directions so he figured it would be better if you could slowly jot down your thoughts in a more comfortable place.

Turning to Julia, he said, “I’m taking Y/N back home. I’ll drop you on the way, okay?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take a cab. Don’t worry about me. Just get Y/N back home safely, okay?” She said, already taking out her phone to book an Uber. With a jolt, Mingyu suddenly realised how much Julia had grown up and that she was no longer the small girl who used to peep into her older brother’s room through the curtains.

“Okay. But give me a call when you reach, okay?” He said as she waved them goodbye before getting into the taxi. Then turning to you, he gave his hand and you took it, though you were avoiding his eyes once more.

Even the ride back to your place was filled with silence and though Mingyu wanted to ask you about what had just happened, he could feel that your thoughts were completely preoccupied. It was only when he parked the car in front of your house did you speak up.

“Gyu.” You said, finally turning to look at him. He froze when he saw glassy your eyes were, your bottom lip trapped by your teeth as you bit onto it to prevent yourself from crying.

“Y/N?” He asked worriedly, grabbing your hand with one hand as he cupped your face with the other. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it Taehyung? Did he hurt you? Has he done it before? When did it-”

“It’s not him.” You said with a sniffle, screwing your eyes shut as the first tear fell, leaning into Mingyu’s touch. He felt his heart squeeze painfully and he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb. “It’s not him. Don’t worry about him, it’s- He just happened to meet me here today and he started acting like that but it’s- but it’s-”

“It’s what?” Mingyu asked gently and you opened your eyes to look at him. Taking in another shuddering breath to control your tears, you said, “I- I just realised something this evening. And I- and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Worry grew in him as he took in your words. “What is it? You can tell me everything, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” You whispered, shaking your head. You placed your other hand on his and gave it a squeeze, as though trying to find comfort in his touch. “I don’t even know how to say it though. I- I think I will mess it up.”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay.” He whispered, slowly rubbing small circles on the back of your hand in an attempt to calm you down. “Breath with me. Breath Y/N. It’s going to be okay. I’m there right here. I’ll always be there for you.”

“I know. I know. I just- don’t know what to do about it.” You rambled, still crying.

Mingyu’s mind was in a whirlwind. For the first time in twenty years, he couldn’t understand what you were talking about, what you were implying or what was making you cry.

It was certainly not Taehyung. And it was definitely not something he had said or else you would have been uncomfortable around him. So what had happened this evening that had broken you down like this?

“Gyu.” You sobbed, leaning into the crook of his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. “Gyu, I’m so sorry for this. I’m so so sorry.” Sorry for what? “Promise me you’ll never hate me. I can never hate you too. I’ll love you forever. But promise me you’ll love me forever too. No matter what happens.

“I promise.” He said, the only response from you being your sobs getting louder as you dug your fingers into his shoulder deeply. And unlike all the other promises Mingyu had made to you, he intended to keep this one.

“Hi.” Mingyu said with a smile, extending his umbrella over your head as he came and stood beside you. Though you were not getting wet, he could see that you were shivering slightly from the cold, rubbing your arms as the rain dripped from the narrow beam sheltering you and fell into the puddle forming right in front of both of you.

You looked up at him just as you sucked in a breath sharply, staring at him with such wide eyes that your pupils were completely blown out. He cocked his head to a side worriedly, smile faltering a little as you continued to stare at him.

“Y/N?” He asked softly, taking a step closer until he could wrap an arm around your waist. “Are you okay?”

You blinked at him, looking away shyly as you muttered a small ‘yeah’, finger digging into your arms as you tried hiding your face from him. Mingyu frowned, taken aback by the sudden change of behaviour. Were you shy in front of him?

“Hey.” He said, this time a bit more louder as he gently tugged you towards him until he was practically hugging you, resting his chin on top of your head. He moved his arm up to your elbow, rubbing small circles on it, causing you to let out a sigh as you finally turned to him, burying your face into his neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You muttered, wrapping your arms around his torso as though trying to engulf yourself in his warmth completely. He felt his heart squeeze at your endearing action, a chuckle escaping him as he let you stay in that position, enjoying the sound of rain.

“Is it Taehyung?” He finally asked, breaking the silence after a while. Your head shot up as you looked at him in surprise, as though caught completely off guard by his question. “Tae- What? No! Of course not. Don’t worry, I haven’t had the time to think about him.”

Mingyu hummed in response, asking you to go on. You rested your head against his shoulder once again, pausing a little as though thinking about how to go on. “I’ve been thinking about…something. Something else. A lot of things actually, so uh, I’ve been feeling tired for the past few days.”

“Care to tell me what’s running in your pretty head so that I can lessen your burden?” He felt you relax into his touch but then stiffen almost immediately, slowly slipping out of his grip. He let the arm holding you drop as you made some space between the two of you, still close enough for him to feel your body warmth.

He watched you with worry as you chewed on your lips, before looking at him with a rather obviously forced smile. “Nope, you unfortunately can’t.” You said, the smile still plastered on your face. “It’s work related so of course it’s out of your domain.”

“Okay…” He said slowly, still uncertain but deciding to drop the subject for now. “So, uh, you said Chaewon wanted to see me?”

“She wanted to see us.” You corrected and even though you had meant it as a joke, Mingyu’s mind couldn’t help but replay that night when you had said us was the special thing you had wanted to show and he felt his heart lighten up a bit at the reminder of it.

But in front of you, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, us. Why did she want to meet us?”

You shrugged. "Said she had to give us somethi-"

"Mingyu!" Someone called him just as he felt a new arm drape around his neck, its owner wedging herself between him and you. He blinked for a second as the heavy smell of perfume and loss of warmth overtook him, before smiling back at the woman flashing all her teeth at him. "How are you?"

"I'm good. What about you, Chaewon?" He asked, gently detaching himself from her powerful grip. "How's work?"

"It's being a pain in the ass so of course I'm not fine." She said with a laugh that Mingyu too returned (politely). “Anyways, I’ve got a surprise for both of you!”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been going on and on about the surprise but what is it actually? You said, rolling your eyes a bit. Mingyu had never realised how cute you looked when you were annoyed but right now, you looked absolutely adorable, with your eyebrows slightly knotted together as you huffed out a breath.

“So…” Chaewon drawled, looking at either of them once before pulling out something from her pocket. “I got you us tickets for the 9Muses!”

Mingyu blinked at her, feeling his cheeks pull into a smile as a new found excitement erupted in his heart. “Wait- 9Muses? Really?”

Chaewon smiled back at him superiorly as she waved four tickets in front of his face. “Yeah, yeah. I know, I’m awesome. You can thank me later on when you and your future girlfriend finally hit off.”

The last statement caused him to pause, eyes darting to you as a force of habit before looking back at Chaewon in surprise. “Future…girlfriend?”

She meant you, right? It wasn’t the first time people had mistaken the two of you for a couple but Chaewon had known you since college which could only mean that she was referring to-

“I’ve set you up for a blind date!” She said excitedly, but Mingyu could feel the colour draining from his face as an ugly sensation rose up his throat. “That’s why I actually have four tickets-”

“You did what?” You asked, causing him to look at you in surprise. You were looking at Chaewon in complete shock with your mouth slightly open, as though you could not believe what she had just done. Chaewon too seemed to be taken aback by your reaction, because her next few sentences came out in a stammer.

“I- I thought- You told me you were sad that Mingyu was never in a relationship so I thought- “

“I-” You began, but stopped when you looked at him, immediately averting your eyes to the ground instead. Something was wrong. Something was bothering you from the very beginning but Mingyu could tell that something about this proposal had upset you even more. But what was it? Did you not want to go to the concert?

“Yeah. Yeah I did say that.” Then looking up at him, you gave him a smile, though he could see that you were battling with something deep inside. “You should totally take that person out as you date. Who knows, you both might hit it off really well, huh?”

Even though he had prepared himself for this very situation many times before, these words coming from you still hit him with a blow. It had been years since he had gone on a date with your friend Suji and yet it still hurt him freshly that you were this eager to give him away to someone else so readily. He was still okay with you always dating someone else but everytime you would try to get him to go out with someone, it would hurt him even more.

But instead, he smiled back at you and nodded to your words. “Yeah, who knows? We might actually end up dating.”

You laughed at his statement, hitting him on the shoulder lightly. “Oh my god, I can’t wait to babysit my nephews and nieces.”

“Excuse me?” Mingyu gasped, giving you a look of disgust. “That’s too far, don’t you think?”

“Well, you are such a gentleman that it would be stupid for anyone to let you go.” Chaewon commented with a smile and Mingyu felt his cheeks heat up a little.

“It’s nothing like that.” He muttered. He felt you reach out for his hand and give it a squeeze, causing him to look at you. You smiled at him softly, before saying, “Don’t say that, Gyu. You are the kindest and sweetest person in this world. Anyone would want to be with a wonderful person like you.”

Then why don’t you want to?

But before he could retort to your compliment that had him almost weak in his knees, Chaewon clapped both of you on your backs. “Okay, then! It’s decided. I’ll send you the details later on, Mingyu. See you on Sunday!”

“Yeah, bye!” Mingyu waved at the two of you as Chaewon produced an umbrella (practically out of nowhere) and wrapped an arm around you and darted across the street. He watched the two of you with a smile as you struggled to keep up with your friend’s pace, finally breaking free from her grasp when you both reached the other end. Turning back, you waved at him one final time before slipping into your car.

He waited for your car to completely disappear down the street before stepping out into the rain himself, his heart weighing down more and more with each step he took.

Time to brace yourself again, Mingyu.

“Perfume. Check. Breath mints. Check. Keys. Check.” Mingyu muttered, going over his things that he was supposed to carry one last time before he actually left. Glancing at the mirror one last time, he smiled to himself, patting down his hair to fix his hairstyle.

Be happy, Mingyu! You are going to a 9Muses concert. And you look fine.

Then why doesn’t Y/N think I look good?

The very reminder of you brought up the bile to his throat, his smile dropping almost immediately as he let out a sigh. Exhausted, he crashed onto his sofa massaging his throbbing temples that had been hurting ever since Friday due to his complicated thoughts.

He was going to go to the concert of his favourite band. With you. And with a pretty girl that could potentially be his future girlfriend if things went well tonight.

Then why did he feel like throwing up at the very thought of holding someone else’s hand that wasn’t you? Why did his skin crawl at the thought of smiling, laughing and flirting with someone that wasn’t you?

He felt so sick that a small part of him didn’t even want to go to the concert now. The fact that he would be on a date with another girl with you right beside him was suffocating him so much that he really felt like he was going to die.

He could feel himself shrinking back to his fifteen year old self, when he was on a date and he felt like throwing up. Back then he didn’t know why. But now that he did, it felt even more worse.

Mingyu glanced at the clock on his wall, before closing his eyes to calm himself down. He still had an hour to go and pick up Yoobin and then drive to the concert. If he could just-

The doorbell suddenly rang, jerking him out of his thoughts and he sat up straight, frozen as to what to do next.

Who could it be at this time? He wasn’t expecting anyone. It certainly wasn’t Wonwoo as he had gone for a week to live with his parents. Lately, there had been a lot of burglaries in his neighbourhood. It couldn’t be…?

“Snap out of it.” He muttered, slapping himself lightly before getting up to go and get the door. He was sure that it was a dinner delivery at the wrong address and swung open the door, ready to tell the delivery man he was at the wrong house.

But when he opened the door, he found himself staring at you, you who were completely dressed up for the concert and definitely not supposed to be here, you who looked so stunning that Mingyu momentarily forgot to speak until you broke the silence.

“Don’t go out with her.”

“What?” Mingyu asked, snapping out of his reverie as he tried processing your statement. What were you talking about?

You took a step closer to him and repeated your statement. “Don’t go out with her. Yoobin. Don’t go out with her.”

You reached out to him but all he could react to your statement was by taking a step back instead, feeling even more confused about what you were talking about.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” He asked. You opened your mouth and closed it, before taking in another step towards him so that you were inside the house now.

Taking in a shaky breath, you whispered. “Please don’t go out with her, Gyu. I know it’s very selfish of me but I-”

Swiftly, Mingyu closed the door behind you before pulling you close to him by your waist, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey,” he whispered, as you froze in his touch, eyes going glassy with tears. He could feel himself panicking at the thought that maybe someone had hurt you badly but he tried to keep himself calm. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, love. You’ve been acting so different these few days and now this-”

“It’s because I love you.” You choked, tears finally streaming down your cheeks. “I love you, Gyu. I love you. I love you so, so much.”

Now it was Mingyu’s time to freeze. His brain seemed to slow down by a million years as a loud ringing filled his ears instead, stomach dropping like he was on a roller coaster. What did you just say?

You covered his hands with yours, gently removing them from your cheeks and holding them in yours instead as you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Mingyu. I know I’m really selfish but please don’t go out-”

The rest of your rambling was completely cut off as he smashed his lips against yours, fireworks immediately exploding in his heart. He felt you drop his hands as you wrapped it around his arms, fingernails digging into his skin as you held onto him while you kissed him back as passionately as he was kissing you. Every bit of Mingyu’s perception was drowned out as you took over his senses, and the only thing he could think and feel was you, you and you.

He ran his one hand fervently against your back while the other pulled you impossibly closer by your waist. His entire skin tingled as you ran your mouth over his again and again, tangling your finger in his locks.

Mingyu couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it. If it wasn’t for the excess blood pumping to his ears and his heart threatening to swell and burst out of love and happiness, he would have been sure that this was just a dream.

Finally, you pulled away, gasping for breath, and the loss of warmth caused him to chase after your lips, desperate to get back that euphoric feeling of kissing you.

You laughed lightly as you placed a hand over his chest to stop him, tears once again flowing down your cheeks. Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, cupping your face gently with one hand as you leaned in to his touch even more.

“I waited for you so long.” He whispered, and you screwed your eyes shut, nodding to his statement. “I loved you for so, so long. So long.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered back, opening his eyes to look at him. “I’m so sorry I never realised I loved you and even when I did, I didn’t approach you.”

At this, Mingyu shook his head, resting both of his hands on the small of your back as you cupped his face, staring at him so softly and with so much love that he could feel his knees going weak. “Don’t apologise. I just- I just wish that I had kissed you in a more romantic setting-”

“Oh, Gyu.” You said, brushing your lips against his, causing his brain to short circuit once again. “This was the best kiss I’ve ever had. It’s you who made it so romantic. Doesn’t matter that I barged into your house an hour before we left.”

“I think it should matter.” He said with a pout. “After all, you did barge into my house.”

You pressed a quick kiss on his lips in response. “And what should I do to make up for it, baby?”

Mingyu didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with you more than he already was but somehow, impossibly, you calling him baby had him falling for you even more. The entire world around him had dimmed as he could see only your face, eyes shining and lips quirked in a cocky smile.

He didn’t even realise he was staring at you until you reached up and kissed him softly again, closing his mouth that had been slightly open. “Gyu.” You murmured. “I asked you a question.”

“Huh?” He asked, too busy kissing you back. Was your heart supposed to dance like this whenever you kissed someone? He wasn’t even sure if his stomach dropping so much as your hands ran over his back was a good sign.

“I asked what I should do to make it up to you.”

Oh. His eyes flicked to your lip gloss smudged lips, which were swollen and this time Mingyu felt a different kind of feeling spark in his heart. A desire to ruin you even more.

“Well,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips. “You could let me worship you.” Another kiss on your jawline, causing you to sigh. The sound shot up a shiver down his spine and he wondered if he would be able to survive even the night. “Let me show you how much I’ve loved and wanted you for all these years.”

“Yes, but,” you said, pushing yourself away from him. “I should be the one making up to you.” Saying that, you pushed him, not too hard, but enough for him to stumble back and fall on the sofa (thank god the sofa happened to be there. Mingyu wasn’t sure if he would be able to live with the embarrassment had he fallen on his ass instead.)

He watched you in awe as you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he found himself grabbing you by your waist to pull you in closer. You looked so sexy that Mingyu was sure he had ascended to heaven.

You leaned down to capture his lips in yours again, feeling your thumb gently stroke his jawline. He could taste your lip gloss, igniting that fire in the pit of his stomach again as he licked your bottom lip to get more of it.

You opened your mouth a little more and his tongue accidentally slipped in, and Mingyu couldn't help but dig his nails into your skin in an attempt to cover up his groan. Your mouth was so wet and warm against his, tongue gliding over each other’s as you both fought for dominance.

He quickly broke the kiss, before moving to kiss the soft skin right below your ears.

“Gyu…” You hummed, the sound sending a shiver through his dick. He really wanted to elicit more of those sounds from you now, so he grazed his teeth lightly into the skin, causing a gasp to escape you. Immediately he soothed the area with his tongue, your gasp turning into a very low moan as pulled at the locks of his hair near his neck. “Gyu, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I’ve always loved you, angel. And I’ll love you forever.” He whispered back, leaving trails of kisses on your neck as he moved downwards, finally stopping at the hollow of your neck. By now, he had realised that the best way to get you undone was by grazing his teeth against your skin and then soothing the area with his tongue.

But when you shifted slightly on his lap to move even more closer for him, he felt his dick twitch and another groan escaped him. It felt so good, and so, so right doing this with you, whatever the two of you were even doing. Your head was completely thrown back as Mingyu marked love bites all over your neck, gripping on his hair as you grinded down on him. Your moans had gotten much louder by now and with each sound he got out of you, he could feel his dick getting harder and harder.

Each time your cunt rubbed against his dick, mingyu felt a small relief wash over him but it just wasn’t enough; he wanted more of it, more of you and he wanted you to want him equally as much.

“Gyu.” You whispered, all of a sudden, causing him to pause. He looked at you with widened eyes, panic gripping him that he had done something wrong. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Can you- can you take off your shirt? If you are okay with it? Or else-”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it, princess. A hundred percent okay. Okay with whatever you do.” He said, reaching downward to pull off his shirt but felt your hands stop him, causing him to look at you in surprise.

You were looking at him with guilt and a bit of sadness, before you reached down to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“Don’t say that, Gyu. Don’t say that, please. I’ve been hurting you all these years. Knowingly or unknowingly. So don’t- don’t say that, okay? I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” You said.

For some reason, Mingyu felt his heart soften at your words. It was like a huge knot that had tangled his heart, not allowing it to beat and causing him pain for all these years had finally opened, releasing him from all pain. He smiled at you and nodded, and you slowly let go of his arms, allowing him to take off his shirt finally.

Mingyu always knew he had a great build. He took pride in how well he took care of his body and was kind of used to people complimenting him.

But nothing prepared him for the way you were looking at him right now, like he was some god who had just materialised in front of you. As soon as his shirt was off you sucked in a deep breath, your teeth sinking into your lower lips. Your eyes flicked all over his body, pupils darkening as you took in his physique.

He had never felt so bare in front of anyone and yet, it felt really good being like this in front of you. You lifted your hand slightly and placed it in front of his chest, looking at him for permission. When he nodded a yes, you let your hand finally touch, fingers trailing gently over his toned chest.

It was like you had set his skin ablaze; he could feel where your fingers had trailed against his now warm skin. A low moan escaped his throat when you gently brushed your finger against his nipple, causing you to smirk. Fuck, you were so hot.

“You are so handsome, baby. And so, so hot.” You said, leaning down to kiss his jaw this time. Another moan escaped him as you too repeated his action, sucking on the soft skin of his neck before licking it with your tongue. Your hands that were roaming all over his body were making his skin hotter with each second, which was doing nothing to give relief to his achingly hard dick.

“Can you take these off for me too?” You asked sweetly, tugging at his belt. Though he was mildly annoyed that you had climbed off his lap, resulting in the loss of your touch, he quickly jumped off the sofa and undid his belt, shimmering out of his jeans before turning to look back at you.

Your eyes now flicked all over his body as you took in his entire appearance, and he felt his dick twitch under your gaze. Your eyes then moved up to meet his, smiling so tenderly at him that Mingyu had to sit back down to make sure he didn’t melt into a puddle then and there. You climbed back onto his lap, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Hi, love.” You whispered with a smile, bumping your nose against his.

“Hi.” Mingyu said, mirroring back your smile.

“Can I ride you?”

He found himself nodding to your question, anticipation eating away his heart as you tugged onto the band of his underwear, and he raised his hips a little as you both pulled it off. A tiny bit of relief flooded him as his hard dick sprang free, finally able to breath a little.

Mingyu watched you as you took him in with hooded eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as you brushed your thumb against his now angry red tip, already leaking with precum.

“Aren’t you- Aren’t you going to take off your clothes?” He asked and you shook your head in negative. “After some time. You’re so pretty, Gyu.” You replied, wrapping your hand around his length and giving it a gentle squeeze. He thought he could see stars as his head fell back with a groan, hips jerking up to chase your hand as you removed it.

“Don’t tease me.” He hadn’t meant it to come out as a whimper, just as a request, but right now he was so desperate for you that he didn’t care if he sounded this pathetic.

“Sorry baby.” You said, but you were smirking, clearly enjoying the power play here. And for that reason, that made him even harder (if that was even possible) for you. You raised your hip up and slipped your hand underneath your skirt to pull your panties aside.

Then slowly, you sunk down. He felt your warm and wet pussy envelope just his tip, and a groan ripped from his throat at the feeling. Your hips too stuttered as you let out a moan, pausing to take in a deep breath. Mingyu could see that you were fighting with yourself to not sink in completely from the way your nails were digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t know what came over him but he was so done with playing gentleman with you, so tired of not being able to feel you fully, so sick of keeping himself away from you that he found himself grabbing your hips and pulling you down as slowly as he could.

When you finally bottomed out, the two of you letting out a moan in unison. Mingyu’s eyes rolled back as he felt your warm walls flutter around his length, trying to adjust to the size. The erratic squeezing was not helping him keep his composure and he could already feel his balls squeezing, ready to let go any second from now.

“Mingyu.” He heard you whine, the sound shooting straight up to his brain as his eyes snapped open to look at you. You looked back at him with complete adoration, and Mingyu felt his insides melt, leaning towards you to capture your lips in his.

The kiss was short lived though; as you raised your hips slightly, before bringing it down with a slam. He broke the kiss to groan loudly against your lip as your pussy clenched around his length once more, before you swallowed his moans with another kiss.

He felt your hot tongue slip into his mouth, drowning all his moans as you raised your hips once again and brought it down. Gently, you picked up the pace, a small pressure forming in his lower abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” You whispered, his moans increasing as you sucked his lower lip. “So, so beautiful and so perfect. I love you so much Mingyu.”

Mingyu felt his balls tighten at your words, the knot in his stomach growing tighter and tighter as you whispered soft praises into the skin of his neck, sucking and marking at the soft skin.

“I love you. I love you too.” He whimpered back, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hand through the strands of his hair as he clutched your waist, trying to find something to ground himself too. The coil was getting too tight, too tight for him to hold himself back and you squeezing the life out of his dick was definitely not helping the situation.

“Are you- are you close, Gyu?” You asked, and he nodded. You felt so good, just so good, with the way your warm and wet walls were pulsing around him, causing ecstasy to shoot through his veins.

But now he could feel you slowing down a bit, obviously tired from riding him. You didn’t say anything though, and Mingyu could see you were trying to live up to your promise. So instead he relaxed into the sofa a bit more, before snapping up his hips to meet you halfway.

The sound that ripped through your throat was like music to his ears and he could feel himself threatening to burst, body threatening to snap under the intensity of pressure he was feeling.

“Baby-” He gasped. “Baby, I can’t- I can’t-”

“Let go.” You choked, slamming your lips against his to steal his breath away.

And that was enough for the coil in his stomach to snap. White hot pleasure coursed through his veins as a ringing sound took over his ears, all senses hindered as he lost himself in the bliss. Another groan stumbled out of his lips as you too finally came, doubling his pleasure as you coated his cock with your warm liquid, squeezing it as though to take in all his cum.

He wrapped his arm around you more tightly so that now both of your bodies were practically one, sweat and cum mixing with each other as both of you tried to catch your breaths.

After some time, Mingyu felt you ruffle his hair lightly and he finally peeled away from you, only to look up at you. You gave him a tired smile and he felt his heart squeeze, wondering for the millionth time how he had ended up with an angel like you.

“Hi.” You giggled, brushing your nose against his as you fondly cupped his cheeks.

He felt himself melt into your touch as he smiled back, quickly pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “What just happened?”

You laughed at his question and wrapped your arms around his neck, engulfing him in your scent as he buried his face into your neck.. The two of you stayed like that for sometime, just enjoying each other’s presence as the only sound heard was your rapid heartbeats and the sound of your slightly laboured breaths.

“I love you, Mingyu. Always had.”

“Hmm?” He hummed, kissing your collar bone.

“Yeah. I realised that’s why I could never be in a happy relationship with anyone. And why they always complained that I wasn’t interested in them.” Your voice had dropped a little and he could sense your sadness, so he began rubbing soft circles on your back to calm you down. “I kept searching for you in them. I kept searching for you. And- and all this time- all this time I-”

“Shhh. It’s okay princess.” He whispered, looking up to meet your eyes. He smiled at you gently. “It’s okay princess. We are here together now, and that’s all that matters.”

You stared at him for a second, before whispering. “I hurt you.”

“You also hurt yourself, baby. But now, we can help each other out. We can pick up our broken pieces and fix them. This time, together.”

“Oh Mingoo.” You said with a soft smile. The old nickname reignited a flame in his chest, and all of a sudden, all the years he had spent with you, all the beautiful and sad memories the two of you had created together flashed before his eyes. “What did I do to get you?”

“No, what did I do to get you?”

You giggled, leaning down to kiss his chin. “Thank you for waiting for me, Gyu.”

“What happened to Mingoo?”

“I thought you hated it.”

“I could never hate anything about you or anything that you call me.”

“So…I can call you mine?”

“Okay, stop.” He groaned, and you let out a laugh. “You’re terrible at jokes.”

“God, and you think you’re very funny right?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, as though it was a challenge.

“Of course! Do you know how many girls have come up to me at work and told me I’m so funny?”

“There are no girls at your work. Only four other guys who bully you like shit.”

“Fine, at cafes.”

“Don’t lie- Oh!” Your eyes widened in horror and Mingyu felt his stomach drop, panic seizing him. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt-”

“The concert! Your date!” You gasped, hitting him slightly on the shoulder. Then you began climbing off his lap but he caught you and moved you back, hands firmly on your waist as you struggled slightly. “Gyu, we’ll be late-”

“Oh, I don’t think we can go to the concert anyways. I’ll just text Yoobin about it.” You froze at his words, looking at him in complete surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You still have to make it up to me.”

Mingyu could see the gears turning in his head as you took in his words, before your lips broke into a smirk. “Right. Right, I do. But what about 9Muses? Aren’t they your favourite band?”

“No 9Muses can compare to me spending time with you. Besides, I can go to a million other concerts now that you are by my side.”

You laughed at his response, before asking, “Can we move to a more comfortable room then, sir?”

He felt his cock which was still inside your warm pussy stir to life once more at the nickname, and his head filled up with thoughts of how he could fill you up once again, make you feel good and make you his forever.

“Of course love. Can I- Can I ask you a question?” He asked as you got off him, nodding at his question as you tried to stand with your shaking legs. Mingyu quickly caught you before you stumbled and you wrapped your arms around him and smiled softly, almost causing him to fall instead because of just how pretty you looked. And because of just how much he loved you.

“Remember- remember our promise? To marry each other if we were still single when we are thirty? Will you- Would you-”

You cut off his statement by pressing your lips against his, but this was unlike any other of the kisses the two of you had just shared. This one was the softest, and yet the most loving kiss Mingyu had ever been given. He felt himself completely surrender to your unspoken confession, letting you glide your hand over his chest until you were cupping his chin, his own hands wrapped around your waist and back, engulfing you with his large body. A tiny realisation flickered at the back of his brain; that he was completely naked while you hadn’t taken off a single article of clothing, not even your panties, but something about your kiss made him feel safe and protected, as though being vulnerable was out of the question.

The two of your lips moved against each other ever so softly, like you had all the time in this world to make for what you had lost over the years. He could feel his heart swelling with love, and he felt his stomach drop with happiness when he felt your heartbeat racing too.

Finally, you broke apart the kiss, looking up to him with soft, tender eyes. The fairy lights behind you were giving you a soft glow, and Mingyu was sure that he had just fallen for you even more.

“Marry you?” You asked, and he found himself nodding at your question. For some reason, he was no longer scared of your rejection, and the sense of doubt vanished completely when you smiled at him softly. “Yes. Yes I will, Kim Mingyu. I’ll marry you any day and any time. I’ll marry you even if the world says no, even if the world is ending or even if we have to move far away from each other. I love you so much that I’ll marry you in a blink. You are the person I’m a thousand percent sure of. And I’ll marry you even with paper rings.”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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ahundredtimesover · 3 months

Text

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job.

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him.

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss.

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back.

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later.

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it.

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room.

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is.

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence.

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that.

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you.

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly.

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate.

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation.

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it.

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought.

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates.

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word.

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks.

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake.

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it.

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter.

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying.

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow.

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain.

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists.

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?”

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try.

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction. But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more.

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes.

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.”

You bow and head out the door.

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret.

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now.

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently.

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance.

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed.

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door.

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves.

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do.

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home.

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought.

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere.

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you.

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration.

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect.

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door.

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too.

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe.

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor.

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore!

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum.

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say.

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours.

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did.

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.”

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you.

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out.

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason.

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before.

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage.

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning.

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt.

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment.

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over.

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him.

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed.

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now.

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him.

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget.

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed.

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him.

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern.

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___. But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth.

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline.

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well.

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices.

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop.

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context.

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back.

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress.

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it.

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at.

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat.

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back.

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence.

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs.

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger.

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore.

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly.

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all.

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about.

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you.

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough.

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love.

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all.

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units.

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing.

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?”

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight.

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays.

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway.

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung.

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again.

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep.

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard.

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they.

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking.

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway.

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really.

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name.

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else.

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face.

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