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venusjeon · 8 months

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angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ��Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

#bts au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jeongguk #bangtan #bts x you

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chuluoyi · 5 months

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࿐ ࿔ rivals... in love? — extended cut !

this is pure hysterics, i'm sorry but i can't resist! tysm for the brainrot amy!! @seonghrtz 🫶🏻 mwah mwah !!

a part of gojo's love entries

“you see… if you kiss me, i'll definitely show you just how great my lips actually are.”

you’d expect this sort of nonsense from gojo satoru, yet it was geto suguru who was standing in front of you with such genial smile that you were at a loss.

you dumbly blinked. “huh?”

“satoru said i taste like a cursed spirit, yeah?” suguru didn't seem offended, at least from how he was wording it and that eye smile. “that's a really foul accusation. i’m here to clarify—”

you widened your eyes, almost cringing. “no, no! you don’t have to—”

“SUGURU! YOU SWINE!”

a resounding bang. you whipped your head towards the door in total panic, which was... fortunately still tightly shut. satoru, who had openly declared that he was into you in the previous chapter, was hurling profanities towards his best friend, pounding against the door, visibly vexed.

“you… locked the door?” you questioned suguru in disbelief, and he merely shrugged.

“for safety purposes, yeah.”

well, if you look at satoru now... he did look like a super angry cat who was ready to pounce on suguru and claw him to shreds.

“he could've blasted it.” you glanced apprehensively toward the door, catching his eyes, and in an instant, satoru's scowl turned into the most hopeful expression of a wagging puppy—hoping for you to saunter towards him instead and desert his friend altogether.

suguru chuckled. “he can, yes, but he'll be facing yaga afterwards.”

and you. there was no way he'd scare you off by blasting a ‘red’ on a doorframe. you were clueless, but suguru knew just how soft satoru could make himself to be if it was for you.

you sighed. all you wanted was to go back to your dorms following an exhausting mission. you truly had little energy to entertain this.

meanwhile, outside, satoru was this close to kick the door off its hinges. he was having about thirty different heart attacks by witnessing how close suguru was to your vicinity. his chance was quite literally slipping by each second.

and when in his attempt to hear what the two of you were saying—

“let us just kiss then, to see what it’s like—”

“geto-san, what the—!”

and in that moment, he really saw green and really used a bit more force, tearing the knob— bang!

“don't you dare to get close to my girl, you slimy bangs!”

kapow! pow!

what was even happening? one second, suguru was almost leaning in for that kiss, and the next, satoru popped out of nowhere, tackling him to the ground. and you stood there, utterly bewildered, caught between the whirlwind of their catfight.

your first crush, whom you thought was sensible, and the most obnoxious boy who was whipped for you like a fool...

losers, you absentmindedly thought to yourself. both of them. losers…

“satoru, you're incorrigible!”

“the audacity! you know very well i like her and yet—!”

and yet, a small smile tugged at your lips when you saw how red-faced satoru was. he was genuinely upset to see you with suguru, and that sparked a sense of achievement within you.

“let's see if you will be able to make him say it...”

while you pondered, almost giddy, you were undoubtedly sure about two things at that moment: one, maybe gojo satoru wasn't that bad, he was kinda cute even, and you might consider him... and two—

shoko lost the bet, and you won.

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fairy-hub · 7 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨; 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean/angry nerd!switch!choso, hate fucking/academic rivals, Daddy/brat, biting, degradation/mocking, two pussy slaps, a hint of oral/fingering for some prep, pain kink, begging, just the tip, choking, light fem dom!reader, biting, hair pulling/dragging, mirror sex, full nelson, squirting

Oreo: @arminsumi @vampress7 lets all be delulu over nerd!choso, normal choso could and would never be so mean. I stand by that but this is nerd!choso Au whose done with your shit even if you are right! 🤤

“You’re such an annoying brat correcting me in class.” Choso grabs your arms pinning them above your head. Stuffing his thigh between your legs. Grinding your hips, your soft clit perfectly rubbing on his thick thigh.

Fighting the urge to groan. “If you weren't wrong, I wouldn't have to-!” Choso shuts you up with a rough kiss, biting your bottom lip. Slipping his tongue past when you cry.

Squeezing your neck, pulling away, smirking down at you. “Say something now, do anything other than grind your clit on my thigh like a pretty dirty whore.” Glaring up at him, unable to stop yourself. It feels to go to rock your clothed cunt on his clothed thigh.

Sneering, “If only the class knew what a pathetic whore you are. Glaring up at me like you won't beg for my cock.” It’s going straight to your needy cunt the way Choso is looking down at you with such angry hunger.

Moving his thigh from between yours. Roughly unbutton your pants, yanking them down your thighs with your underwear Curling two thick fingers into your cunt. “Already stupidly wet for me, nnn can't believe such a pretty cunt belongs to such a brat.” Letting go of your neck, crouching down ripping your pants down the rest of the way.

“Aw Choso Kamo is mad 'cause I’m right! Doesn't matter how much of a stupid cock drunk slut your fat cock makes me it won't change that!” Slapping your clit and cunt repeatedly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries from the sweet sting.

Biting your stomach, gliding two thick fingers. You grab a fistful of his dark hair tugging till he whines. Your sloppy wet cunt quivers around Choso's thick fingers from the beautiful sound. “Annoying brat.” Propping your thigh on his broad shoulder, shoving his face towards your clit.

“Shut up and suck my clit.” Biting your thigh, pumping his thick fingers faster. Massaging your sweet spot, licking your soft clit. Groaning into your cunt, grabbing your hip digging in his nails.

Squirming grinding your hips, swiping your clit on his pierced tongue. Curling from your toes from the sweet pressure of his hard bar. “Fuck you for being so damn beautiful with my cunt on your face.” Sloppily sucking on your soft clit, groaning getting off in the soft squelching of his finger sinking into your sloppy wet cunt.

Gliding his fingers out, slipping your thigh off his shoulder standing up. Unbuttoning his dark pants, pushing them down, kicking them to the side. “No underwear? Figures why everyone could see the fat outline of your cock when you were in front of the class.”

Picking up his beautiful cock. Biting your lip, stroking your clit, you love the way he’s so fat and heavy he hangs. He smirks looking down at you, trapping your head between his large hands.

Grabbing his cock touching stroking your clit. “I knew you were lookin’ n you lied sayin’ you weren't.” He groans when you slide your side lips along his cock, smearing slick into his cock head. Helping you stroke your clit better.

“Fuck you, you didn't deserve the satisfaction after being wrong. You should have studied better I'm disappointed in you can I even think of you as a rival after that.” Biting Choso’s tattoo of black flowers and dark green leaves and thorny vines.

The large garden covers most of his body. Hiding scars you’ve memorized the placement of. You hate him so much, yet you know his body better than your own.

Tracing over the one above his heart. Kissing the bite mark. “Please you know you’re going to be thinking about seeing me in class tomorrow. Let’s see how good your essay is, if I think it’s less than 96 you’re not cumming.” Grabbing your hair pulling your head back.

Looking up at him, siding your hand down from his thick hard pecs to his sculpted abs. “Fuck whatever stupid grading system you have it's rigged. You just want to hear me beg.” Stepping back, taking away his thick, warm cock on your soft clit.

Choso leads you from his living room into the hallway with a firm grasp on your hair. “Damn right, I want to hear you beg for this cock. Watch yourself, see what a dumb slut I fuck ya into.” Letting go, shoving you into his bathroom, grabbing your arm, and twisting you to face the mirror. Bending you over, lifting your ass up in the air.

Grabbing the counter. Admiring Choso in the mirror. His broad chest, thick arms, and slim waist. “I want to be fucked dumb by your fat cock.” Lining his thick cock up gliding in just his fat cock head.

Suspended in the air with only his tip in you, you look so desperate begging. "Please fuck me with your fat cock, I don't want to think of anything else. Wanna be your pretty dumb cock sleeve." Gliding his cock out, slapping himself on your lips.

Clenching with every wet smack, lining himself back up gliding only his fat tip into you. His fat head alone stretching your cunt feels too damn good. "Please fuck my bratty attitude outta me, make me your mindless cum stuffed slut. NNn." Roughly pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust, stuffing you full of his cock.

Loudly moaning, "Fuck me!" Choso grabs your hair, yanking you upright. Wrapping an arm around his neck. Choso slips his arms underneath your legs, folding you in half. Bouncing you in time with his hard, quick thrusts.

Stroking your sweet spot before stirring your guts up. "That's what I thought it's ok ya can moan you are my stupid pretty slut." Slipping his arm across your body, trapping both your legs over his thick forearm.

You're tightly pinned, knees to your chest watching your cunt get stuffed. Getting off on how Choso needs one arm to support you. Stroking your clit whining from the sweet toe-curling pleasure, clenching his fat cock. "Nnn daddy please!"

"Daddy? Already is it that good? Like seeing how your cunt is making a perfect circle from how fat my cock is." Steadily stroking your soft clit. Over the months of ending up in his apartment he's perfected playing with your clit.

You couldn't do it better yourself anymore. Couldn't cum this hard that your eyes are rolling back, body trembling, jaw-dropping. Your thick slick dripping down Choso's balls, some of your squirt splashing onto his counter.

Forgetting everything but getting fucked stupid on Choso's fat, veiny cock. “Ya cummin' so much for me, thought ya hated me but look at you. Giving me those love sick eyes." You don't have the mind to protest.

Choso smirks, "I might be second in class but I'm still your Daddy. No one else can fuck ya like I can look at ya already a stupid drooling brat.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

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nezuscribe · 9 months

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𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

summary: being gojo's wife was better than you could have imagined, too good perhaps. when you have doubts about being with him, gojo must simply show you that they're wrong

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, mild angst, heavy smut, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, heavy making out, gojo is a little possessive (but that's okay!)

note: this could be a historical au if you squint but i was too tired to go in-depth. also sorry for any typos, i might fix it later

word count: 3.3k

jjk masterlist

gojo saturo was a man who was always sure of himself.

he didn’t need anybody to tell him of his strength. the word of his agility spread across the aegean sea, and his strength rivaled no other man. his stark beauty that only came with having a goddess as a mother, and his snide remarks that came with being fed with a silver spoon his entire life.

and yet you had never seen gojo so angry. never seen his eyes turn such a shade of gray, his hair framing his face messily as he breathed as though each inhale cost him the regular amount three would take.

his (your) sleeping quarters usually a comforting place for you to be, but it all felt cold now. you could barely look at him without feeling the bile rise in your throat, wondering if you finally ruined the lick of happiness you were blessed with these past few months.

who would have thought your words would have such an effect on him?

"what do you mean let you leave?" he spat your earlier statement as if it burned his tongue, seared his flesh as he if the prospect was enough to set even the holiest man aflame.

"i," you paused, your back pressing up against the wall as tears treacherously stabbed at your waterline, “i just think that you could have somebody…worthier.” you used the heel of your palm to wipe at your cheeks, hoping that the darkness would hide your weakness.

he took in another labored breath as if hearing you say it again was the confirmation he needed to make sure he heard you correctly the first time.

“you could have anybody, gojo,” his lips curled at the use of his last name, getting comfortable with hearing ‘toru fall off your soft lips, “i don’t want you to be bound to me because you wanted to spite-”

“spite?” he throws it out, cutting you off, scoffing in disbelief as you nod slowly.

“you don’t have to take me for a fool,” you say through a sniffle, the moon carding through the window as it bounces off of his beautiful face, “i don’t have much to give, but i’m not dense. i know that there wouldn’t be many reasons after spite to take me as your wife.”

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, looking at you and then at the tears that stained your soft cheeks. he wanted to reach out and wipe them, to kiss the salt away, and to give you words that held his heart in each syllable but you would only deem them as moments to fill the silence and to please the gods.

“then you are dense if you think that’s why i picked you as my wife,” he tells you finally, the words cutting you through your nightgown and through your chest. you were aware he wielded the sword better than any grecian warrior, but you never would have guessed that his words could be just as powerful.

“your mother wants-”

“damn what she wants!” he cracked, shaking in anger as your lips wobbled at the flash that crossed his face, he rubbed his hands over his tired eyes, looking away, trying to calm himself down as his hair fell into his eyes, “have you ever stopped to think about what about what i want?”

you didn’t know what he wanted. you had always thought that the gojo satoru would pick somebody spectacular to be his equal, somebody whose name was just as prominent as his. you thought that his wife would have been a child of a god as well, somebody who could match him on his every level.

but now you weren’t sure, your past judgment slipping away as you took in his disheveled state.

“i,” he sighed, looking at you as he shook his head, “i want you so much that hearing you say you want to leave damn near tore my heart out. i want you so much that my every waking moment is spent thinking, dreaming, wanting you. you are the only person that i care for.” he choked out, his voice raw as he pushed the strands away so he could see you.

you couldn’t find anything to say as your lips trembled as you tried to conceal your cries. if only he knew your petty tears came from years of these words being muttered in the back of your head, from the people around you, and only tonight did they finally spill. you were strong, and you could control your emotions better than most, but seeing him tonight with the woman blatantly trying to win his attention proved the fragility in your mask. you knew that accepting his hand in marriage meant having to have skin thicker than before, but after months of hearing the crude rumors of why he picked you out of anybody else chipped away at you before this was all that was left.

“i didn’t want you to be my wife out of spite,” he takes a tentative step forward, hoping that you don’t cower away because of it, “i wanted you to be my wife because i loved you too much for you to be anything but.” he walks again, his long legs reaching you in a matter of milliseconds as he’s now closer than he was before, his striking eyes taking you in better as you look at him from above your lashes, not wanting him to see you this way.

“you are so smart yet sometimes you can’t see beyond what people tell you,” he murmurs, pulling you into his chest as you let him, this warmth something you knew you could no longer live without, “i will not let you leave.”

“but-”

“listen to me,” he murmurs firmly, his fingers grasping your jaw as he lifts it up so you can see him.

“i will not let you leave…unless you want to,” his thumb swipes away at the corner of your eyes, searching for answers, “do you want to?”

no, you don’t.

you want to stay. you want to wake up to his kisses and his gentle touch, the honeyed words he’d tell you as he held you close to his naked body. you wanted to stay and experience what it’s like having the strongest soldier as your husband, to know that he wouldn’t let a fly land on your head. you want him.

“no,” you look away, your cheeks heating up under his heavy gaze, “but-”

“then don’t leave.” he cut you off again, shushing your doubts as he shook his head. his fingers trailed across your shoulders, long as you felt them travel down the cloth that covered your back, holding your waist as he ran them across the expanse of your body.

he knew the things you told yourself sometimes, he’d comforted you those nights when the darkness sheltered your tears and all he could do was tell you that you were wrong and hold you close to his thumping heart.

this was the furthest it had ever been. his heart was thumping erratically and he was sure it would jump out of his throat if you actually left.

“‘toru, i really think that….” you trailed off as he dropped his head down, his lips finding your neck as he littered wet kisses on your skin, mouth curling into a smile as he heard your breathing hitch.

he gripped your hips tightly, undoing the knot that met in the middle of your collarbones, watching as your robe fell to show off your supple skin to him. you wanted to hide, never getting used to that hungry look that would take over his face as he eyed your breaths, his cheeks glowing pink as he nudged his thigh in between your two legs.

“do you really think i could live without these?” he asked, his hands cupping your tits as he flicked his thumb over your pert nipples, your lips catching between your teeth to hide your whines, “without you?” his hands ran down your stomach, his nose rubbing against your cheek as he teased his lips over yours, a cruel grin threatening to make its way onto his stunning face as you tried to meet him where he was.

“now you’re eager?” he taunted, getting drunk off of your helpless whines, enjoying knowing the fact that neither of you would be able to survive without the other, that he needed to breathe your air in order to live. he could taunt and tease you as much as he’d want, but in the end, he’d always oblige.

he kissed you like a man starved, his lips crashing against yours as you let out a small gasp. he took the air from your lungs, your teeth clashing against each other as he held you to him, your nipples rubbing against his chest as he moaned into your mouth, wanting more.

“want you, always want you,” you murmur against him, your fingers curling at the stray hairs at his nape, pulling him closer to you as you press up to kiss him again.

“then don’t ever say anything like that again,” he whispered, and for the first time that night you heard the vulnerability in his words, “i want you so bad that i can barely think straight without you.”

you wanted to apologize but he stopped you, already knowing the words that were going to come out of your mouth. He nipped at your lips, stealing your apology away silently, not wanting to see your pretty tears anymore, the sight hurting him more than any wound he’s attained in all his years as a warrior.

dropping down to his knees as he breathed in your scent, his eyes rolling back as you tried to look away in embarrassment. He’d press kissed to your inner thighs, stopping just where you needed and wanted him most, taking your knee as he guided it upwards to rest on his shoulders, looking up at you as he rolled and smirked.

“you think anybody else will love you like i do? treat you like this?” you shook your head, your fingers curling into his white hair as your head thumped against the wall, his hot breath fanning over your fluttering entrance as you whined out for him.

“mmh, fuck,” he loved seeing you like this, beautifully naked, sweat dotting on your skin as you wrapped your leg around his back, “hurry up ‘toru,” you were impatient and he loved that about you.

“anything for my wife,” he said, his mouth finally finding your clit as you let out a pleased cry, his fingers prodding at your dripping entrance as your eyes squeezed shut. this is where he loved to be most, the saccharine taste of you on his tongue, washing over his body as he grew taunt against his stomach.

he sucked, his two fingers reaching deep in you as he curled them, switching them with his mouth occasionally as your grip on his hair grew tighter, guiding him up and down as he slurped your juices away, the sound echoing across the chamber.

“just like that!” you moaned when he reached your spongy spot, your walls clenching around his fingers, your essence staining his chin as he looked up at you with a dopey look in his eyes, “fuuuck ‘toru,” your words were the sin that he longed for, tainting his existence with the presence of your love.

he could feel you getting closer, his movements getting faster as he held one against your ass, cupping it as he brought you even impossibly closer to him, eating you out as he had never eaten a meal as good as this, and you did try to stop the noises that fell out of your mouth as you squeezed against him, creaming on his fingers as he brought you to your high, crying out his name as you tried to dig yourself against the wall.

your heavy breathing filled the room, your grip on his hair loosening up as he kissed your inner thigh one last time before disconnecting himself from your spasming pussy, grinning like a fool as he balanced himself on his haunches.

“good?”

“oh, shut up,” you muttered, still trying to catch your breath as he chuckled, standing up as he brought you to his chest once again. you would never get tired of him like this, your juices on his lips and chin as he looked at you like you were his god.

he would argue that you most definitely were.

he pressed his lips to yours once again, letting you taste yourself on him as you whimpered against his rapid movements, grasping onto his arms for support as you hooked a leg around his waist, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

you could feel him hard against your stomach, and you looked down, his robes not doing much to hide his length.

“see what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear, your fingers running up and down his clothed cock, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling as you continued your motions, enjoying the way he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, “you’re mine.”

“you flatter me,” you teased, your eyes still a little puffy but you cracked a smile, feeling him puff out a laugh as he shook his head, grasping onto your waist as though that was the only thing that could keep him standing.

if only his enemies could see him like this; reduced to a mere mess all from your fleeting touch.

“i’m being honest.” he sucks onto your neck, his nose nudging your jaw as you tug onto his clothing, your fingers grasping onto the sturdy fabric as you push it down, your eyes taking in his physique as he stands naked before you, the two of you finally even.

“you’re so pretty,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth as your eyes rake over his abs, the faint scars that litter his torso, the white hair that leads down to his angry cock that leaks pre all over his stomach.

he snorts, rolling his eyes as he wraps your legs around his hips once again, hoisting your upwards like you weigh nothing as he rested his dick in between your puffy folds, cocking his head as he looked at you through his long lashes.

“me?” he asks as you giggle softly, nodding as his heart flutters at the sound, “i wish. look at your eyes,” he presses a kiss against your lids, “and your nose,” he kisses the tip of your nose as you try not to laugh even louder, the giddy sound something he hopes the gods could hear so that would envy him and the woman he has in his hands, “and your lips,” he pecks them, “and your smart, smart head,” he presses another kiss against your hairline, balancing your body in his arms, “my beautiful wife.” he finishes, looking back at your flustered figure, proud of his work.

“stop,” you whine, not making any motion to actually stop him, bathing in the endless attention as he tapped his cock head against your clit, your laughs seizing as you look down, forgetting where you were, “you’re such a tease ‘toru.”

“only because i love you so much,” he said, thrusting up into you as your mouth dropped open into a wanton moan, your head falling back as he took in a sharp breath between his teeth, never getting used to the way you clenched so tightly around him, making it hard to not come in just a matter of seconds.

“f-fuck,” he moaned, his hot breath hitting your breasts as he dropped his head down to see where the two of you connected, slowly moving his hips as he moved in and out of you, his mushroom tip catching in your fluttering walls as your nails dug into his back, dragging red lines down as he began to rhythmically pound into you, “you’re so fucking tight,”

“mmmh!” you could only whine out, your words slurring in your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, the feeling of his dick thumping against you was better than any other feeling in the world, you could barely try to raise your hips up to meet him, but he took care of it for you, his strength never failing to amaze you, “l-love you so much ‘toru, m’sorry for w-what i said!”

even if he was still caught up over it, he fucked you as if to make you forget about it.

“my wife,” he’d mutter over and over again, searing the words into fate as he fucked you with so much love that it seeped out of his pores. Sweat caught on his brow and his cupids bow and you ducked down to kiss it away, the salty taste on your lips welcoming back as he feverishly kissed you back, “my wife.”

you loved the way his veins dragged up and down your walls, the rings of your essence and creams that frothed around the base of his cock, the way his thighs clenched as his fingers dug into your ass.

this was something you knew you could never find anywhere else. gojo satoru was something you could never find anywhere else.

“say your mine, f-fuck, say it,” he muttered against your skin, “need to hear you say it.”

“m’yours!” your fingers tugged at his hair, your nails scratching his scalp as he welcomed the sting, “i’m only yours!”

His eyes rolled back as you continued to flutter against him, his high coming faster than it usually would, but he knew that he couldn’t control it with the way you kept crying out his name in that honeyed tone of yours.

“shit, i’m ‘gonna cum, cum with me, need to feel you cum around me…” he rambled on, your pussy made him crazy. And you were nodding your head, not knowing how to speak anymore as his hips shuddered, your releases spraying each other as he cummed deep into you, white trickling out from where he had you plugged out as you cried out from the pleasure that washed over your body.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered after a couple of seconds passed, and you were still trying to recover from your second orgasm of the night, his words warming your soul as he kissed your cheeks.

you looked up at him, suddenly bashful despite what happened, and he had the audacity to cackle at the sight.

you were stunning always, but he loved this look the most. the sleepy but pleased look in your eyes as you clung to him, your arms draping from his shoulders as he walked with you connected to him, just as you should be. he loved the little smile that would always litter your lips after sex, knowing that if he were to die now he’d die a happy man.

“come on,” he kept you wrapped around his waist as he kept one hand under your ass and one tightly around his waist, “i’ll let you rest, but i need to get some things to clean you up.” his eyes trailed to the mess he made, trying not to let his cock harden at the white that painted your thighs and seeped out from your pussy, knowing you were too tired for another round.

“i love you,” you muttered into his neck, pressing a kiss where your lips were and he shuddered.

he squeezed you tightly to him, not knowing what he’d do if you were to leave. he was a man far gone, you had too much control over him to ever submit to any other king again. you were the only being who could tell him what to do, what to feel, and what to love.

“love you most, my beautiful wife.”

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 6 ] || [ Chapter 8 ]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. oral (m!receiving). sex (protected). Unspecified age gap. John is a little selfish. Also: the boys aren't very happy. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: tried my best to keep the smut as gender neutral as possible!

Chapter 7: Getting Laid!!

Last night, you and John stumbled in the door of your flat with your lips pressed together.

You swore that was something only happened in romcoms, when the main character and her rival/best-friend/ex/a stranger met at the bar, got drunk, and somehow stumbled in the door and did it right on the kitchen table or whatever.

Nope.

Nope. It happened.

He had his arms wrapped around your torso, one snugly around your hip/lower waist, the other running up over your spine, with his hand sinking into your hair.

He tossed his foot back, knocking the door closed with a donkey kick as your hands struggled to untuck his stupid maroon button-up.

Instead of fumbling with the buttons, he ripped it off himself, a few of the buttons popping off and being sent flying around the room. He shrugged it off himself before guiding you over the living room sofa.

The flat was a mess, you had tried to tell him, because you weren’t expecting to bring him (or anyone, ever) back here. But that wasn’t a concern at that moment.

John fell on top of you on the couch, his hands already ripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way (you’d come to find it behind your flatscreen tv).

His fingers kneaded and caressed your torso, squeezing at your waist as his mouth slide away from yours, over your jaw, and down to your neck, biting down onto it and sucking at the skin like it was his to mark.

Your hands found the back of his white crewneck and you pulled it off, momentarily getting him tangled in it, before you tossed it on the floor.

You barely had a moment to feast your eyes on the sight of his bare torso before he was slipping your boots off and then dragging your jeans off your legs… Like a rabid animal, primal and hungry.

You caught glimpses of his figure as he raised your leg and peppered kisses from your ankle, wet tongue jotting out to lick up your thigh toward your underwear.

He’s strong but soft, the owner of large pecks and a warm belly, both covered in thick, dark, coarse hair, that disappear in a happy trail under his jeans.

You pull his face toward yours, locking your lips into a deep kiss again, your tongues finding each other as he holds himself up over you. Pulling away from the kiss, you looked at him. “Flip over…” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing you around the waist again and hurling you up as he shifted to sit down on the couch, thighs spread to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans.

You knelt between his legs, nimble fingers undoing his belt and immediately tugging the dark fabric away from his thick thighs. He groaned in relief as he watched you struggle with his boots for a moment before you succeeded in getting it all off him.

His hand palmed at his hardened cock, eyelids droopy as your hands ran up his legs, feeling the hair in them, and sometimes catching the little bumps and scars of past injuries, some of them discreet, some of them obvious and particularly gnarly. Some of them could rival some of his Simon’s.

You tugged down his boxers briefs, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s uncut, long and decently thick, and his hair is neatly trimmed. The head peeks out just a bit, showing how red and angry it is, the whole length throbbing, needy for your touch.

Your eyes locked onto his, spotting that it wasn’t just his cock that was needy. He looked at you like a starved man about to have a meal. Barely restrained, his jaw clenched, fists tightened shut, the muscles on his thighs taut with anticipation.

You ran your tongue over your palm before wrapping it around his cock, hearing him hiss and throw his head back as you started stroking it. Your other hand slowly, carefully, pulled back the hood of his cock before you wrapped your lips and tongue around it, gingerly sliding it further into your mouth.

You could’ve sworn John was going to have an aneurysm. “Fuckin’ hell… That’s it…” He grunted and huffed consecutively as he tensed up a bit, bucking his hips upward to meet your mouth.

“F-Fuck… That’s it…” He grumbled under his breath as he looked down at you. John had been with plenty of people, but something about the way you looked on your knees with his cock steadily slipping down your throat, got him in a way no one else did.

“Jesus… Fuckin’... Christ…” He dipped his head back as your tongue drew circles around him before you swallowed him deeper, breathing steadily through your nose so as to not choke.

“God… Been… B-Been a while since I got… Christ-” He grunted again, one hand shooting up to grip the back of your neck as he slowly rocked his cock into your mouth, beads of precum drooling over your tongue.

“C’mere.” He demanded as he pulled you back from his cock and up to your feet. He grabbed hold of his jeans from the floor, in search of his wallet and pulled out a whole sheet of condoms which was folded neatly inside, He stuck them between his lips before he stood.

Grabbing hold of you, he walked you across your flat, making use of the sitting room lights to navigate the hall into the bedroom, and dropped you onto your bed. He tossed the condoms aside and his lips crashed into yours, lips parted so that your tongues found each other.

His hands grabbed hold of your underwear and tugged it off, sending it flying across the room while he grabbed hold of the condoms and ripped off one, rough fingers search struggling to open the foil, before he finally succeeded and slipped it on.

“You good?” He checked on you, eyes locked on yours as he slotted himself between your legs, kneeling in front of you and adjusting you to fit him. One leg wrapped around his waist, the other over the bend of his elbow to keep you spread open for him.

“Yeah.” You replied, immediately feeling him rub the leaking head of his cock against your entrance, allowing the lube of the condom to lubricate you just a bit.

It had been ages since you had last gotten laid, a miserable consequence of your ex-boyfriend, Ethan, and one of the main reasons you had broken up. Sex with him, much like your relationship, was dead and unfulfilling.

You felt John push his way inside, slotting himself in the warmth and snugness of your body as you squealed, your head falling back onto the bed. He grunted some incoherent praise, or what you assume was praise, his fingers digging into the extra fat on your legs to keep him steady enough.

He leaned over you, one closed fist on either side of your head, curling you onto yourself and allowing him easier access to thrust into you. Slow, torturously slowly, his cock stretching you and forcing you to accomodate him.

“Fuckin’ hell… So fuckin’ good…” He groaned, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he threw his hips down against yours. It was slow and considerate, but the way he huffed and grunted told you it was already too much for him.

But John was a man of focus. He uncurled his fists in order to grip your bed covers and squeeze them tight as his hips bounced off yours, his weeping girth always burying itself to the hilt before he pulled back again, making sure to bottom out every time.

You whimpered and moaned, eyes screwed closed and a shiver running down your spine every time the bouncy cock plunged into you, the upward tilt of it making sure to drag dangerously slowly across the one spot in your body that caused your mind to go blank, stars prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“F-Fuck… John…” You sighed as he kept the torturously slow pace, somehow driving you crazy just as much as he would while pounding you into oblivion.

“Yeah… that’s it. Moan my name, love.” He ordered as he leaned closer.

“J-John…” You cried out softly as his hips stuttered lightly, causing him to bury himself deep twice in a row.

“I know, darling. I know.” He grumbled. “You haven’t gotten properly shagged in a while, have you?” He taunted a bit. “Haven’t either, sweet thing…” He added.

His hands grabbed your jaw on either side, his thumbs hooked onto your cheeks, the remaining fingers slipping under and around your ears, nails digging lightly into your scalp.

“I’ll make sure to make it last as long as possible, hm?” He added as he kissed at your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his lightly.

John was in a much better mood when he sat down for breakfast at the mess hall with Ghost, Gaz and Soap. He actually greeted them with a ‘Good morning’, his tray was piled high with food and his hair was wet from a recent shower.

The other three were looking at him with raised brows and intrigued glances, even if Ghost was trying to be discreet about them. They could read between the lines to know he had gotten lucky with you the night before, so they didn’t need to ask questions they knew the answers to.

Instead, they exchanged glances and kept eating their breakfasts… All except for Simon, who was simply drinkin a cup of breakfast tea.

“I don’t think it’s fair.” Soap ended up saying as Price was halfway through shoveling a hash brown into his mouth.

“What isn’t, Soap?” Price asked, eyes narrowed in confusion, and brows scrunched.

“We all matched ‘em on Tinder and didn’t get more than a ‘I’ll think about meetin’ up with you’.” The younger sergeant explained halfway through chewing his bite of sausage. “You meet with ‘em, get a shag… And we did all the work for it.” He added. “But when it comes to us ourselves, they don’t want us.” He complained.

“What are we gonna do?” Gaz complained. “Maybe they just like older men…” He said with a shrug. “Sucks but there’s other people out there.” He adds while drinking his orange juice.

“Are you seriously going to call dibs on the fact you saw ‘em before Price?” Ghost said in surprise.

“I’m just saying!” Soap grunted and shoveled some more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Learn to take rejection with class, MacTavish. It’s going to happen to you more and more often as you get older.” Ghost quipped.

“Awa' an' bile yer heid!” Soap scoffed and flipped the middle finger at Ghost.

Meanwhile, the Captain was giving them all a look, while staying silent, seeming amused by their antics and a little by their jealousy. He could tell that despite the fact Gaz and Ghost had disagreed with Soap, their eyebrows were also furrowed in contemplation.

So, he simply turned off to the side and drank from his own tea with a smug smirk on his lips.

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #john price x reader

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luveline · 2 months

Note

i would absolutely love a Hotch and stripper reader, him taking care of her after some kind of incident at her club or something? maybe a bit of angry hotch at the beginning, some angst? 💗💗💗

Your throat burns by the time his car pulls up.

You take the butt of the cigarette from between your lips and ash it next to the first. Your hand is sore between the index finger and thumb from a bad stretch, aching as you press into your pocket for your stolen box of Marlboro golds. You’ll apologise for taking them some other time.

You press the third between your lips and flick the lighter. You’re not good at lighting them, worse at the first inhale, your throat an agony that rivals the sting of your battered cheek.

Shoes on the sidewalk, a scratch of loose gravel. Your eyes well with another line of tears that you work hard to hold in, taking another quick, cruel drag. They don’t make cigarettes long enough, in your opinion. They don’t last.

He stops in front of you. Quiet, Agent Hotchner looks down at you where you’re sitting on the low wall, expression as steely as ever. You meet his eyes, worried your wobbly lip is giving you away, not sure calling him was the right thing to do after all.

When he raises his hand to the cigarette you let him take it. His fingers wrap carefully around the butt of it, the side of his thumb brushing your lips.

He flicks it to the ground and steps on it flat.

You don’t say hello. It’s obvious you’ll cry, he can tell too, and he doesn’t make you. You wince as he raises his hand again, your eyes squinting closed, but he isn’t going to hurt you. His palm is warm where it cups your cheek, turning your face to the light emanating off of the club neons.

“Do you know his name?” he asks.

“No.”

He raises your chin higher still. His frown turns to a glare, the brunt of which is directed elsewhere but intimidating all the same. His touching is gentle at least.

“What happened?”

“I told him no.”

His jaw ticks. “Can I take you home?”

You sniffle, turning your face out of his hand and down to your lap. He’s kissed you, he’s done more than that, but he knows you’d felt like you had no choice and so he’s giving it to you now. It’s exactly why you’d called him. It’s the man he is, and he should never have ended up looking after you.

“Sorry I called you,” you say, hiding your face in one hand. Pain flickers behind your eyes as tears mount for the tenth time tonight.

Hotch gives a sigh, sitting on the wall beside you. He wraps his arm behind your back and with a familiarity you need desperately. You press yourself into his side, sew your arm hesitantly over his stomach, the starch of a pressed shirt crisp on your clammy skin.

“It’s cold out here,” he murmurs, bringing both hands to your arm, one to hold you tight, the other to rub your cool skin.

“I think I want to quit.”

He nods into the side of your head. “I think you should,” he says, “if that’s what you want… honey, you can do whatever you want.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m trapped and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.” He encourages your head under his, your face to his neck. When he talks, it’s a quiet, lulling promise. “You’re not trapped. I’ll do anything you need me to do. If you want an apartment, I’ll get it for you. If you want to shut this place down, I will. The last thing either of us want is for you to work here when you don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to say work here like I’m not a glorified prostitute,” you say hotly, anger turned in rather than out.

“You don’t really think that.”

Being a sex worker is complicated. You don’t know how you feel about it, and you can’t ever understand why Hotch would bother with you. You’d worried at first that your vulnerability is what attracted him, like a kid with a broken bird, but he’s proved a hundred times that your job is pretty much separate from why he likes you. He thinks you're pretty. He loves your voice. You make each other laugh, and somehow inexplicably he’s the first person you call when things go wrong.

“Quit your job,” he says. “Even if it’s just to dance somewhere else.”

“You can say strip.”

He nods. “You shouldn’t have to worry whether your ‘no’ will be met with a backhand. You know that breaks my heart?”

You blink and pull away from him. He isn’t unemotional, but it’s a surprise nonetheless to hear him talk like this. “Aaron–”

“Please,” he says. “I shouldn’t ask you to. But there are better places for you. You deserve more.”

If it were anyone else you might get defensive. Only people who do your job could understand why you do it, it’s a hundred different things to you, but you do deserve more. You’re sick of leery men, sick of wolf whistles and bad tips and other people's hands. Hotch has never asked you to stop, but now he is, it’s to keep you safe.

You can’t begrudge him.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“No.” He rubs your arm. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. And I’ll make it right.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll make it right,” he promises. “No matter what. No one gets to hurt you.”

You could quit. You want to. Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks, just so you don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing. You’ll think about it in the morning. “Could I stay with you for a bit?” you whisper. “Just tonight. Please.”

Hotch taps your back for you to stand. He stands with you, brushing down your coat, his eyes impassive where they look over your face, your purpling bruise.

“You can wait in the car,” he says quietly. “I’m going to ask a few questions inside before we leave.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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angelwonie · 1 year

Text

X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well.

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth.

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse.

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you.

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying.

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you.

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours?

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably.

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead.

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless.

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair.

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying.

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.”

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment.

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone.

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him.

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side.

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you��ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep.

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.)

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?”

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat.

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they?

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows.

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though.

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.”

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now.

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over.

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face.

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices.

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow.

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good.

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.”

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams.

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree.

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you.

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think.

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement.

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die.

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too.

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?”

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.”

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave?

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly.

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair.

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today.

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something.

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike.

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming.

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that.

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t.

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first.

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed.

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain.

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment.

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it.

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book.

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand.

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know.

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables.

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter.

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation.

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity.

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked.

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself.

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too.

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him.

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight.

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit.

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.”

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day?

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him.

Finally, he smiles at you.

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it.

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest.

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left.

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement.

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too.

In some ways, it stayed normal.

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you.

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you.

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened.

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow.

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back.

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.”

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze.

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly?

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often.

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now.

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?”

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable.

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly.

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too.

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath.

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart.

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was.

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss.

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches.

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love.

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you.

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students.

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him.

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing.

“Sure about what, Woo?”

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back.

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension.

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain.

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content.

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan.

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed.

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile.

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk.

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes.

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor.

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach.

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance.

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest.

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?”

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder.

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy.

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock.

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt.

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing.

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit.

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit.

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming.

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven.

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out.

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true.

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now.

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free.

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t.

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class.

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader

6K notes · View notes

grugruel · 5 months

Text

Little Bit

Pairings: roommate!bucky x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Moving in with your bestfriend always seems like a great idea, until something inevitably breaks you apart. . .

He grabs my jaw, 'I fucking hate you.' He breathes, and I smile against his lips.

'No you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.'

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angsty rom-com vibes, praise (reader calls bucky good boy once), I love you's, choking, creampie, rough sex, pinv sex, semi-public masturbation, swearing.

A soft blue light shone through the windows, the neon sign across from us coloring every reachable piece of the flat a hue of blue.

Sitting on our shared couch, moved in just a week ago. I lay my head in my hands, I too was colored blue.

'How do we fix this?' He asks, sitting in the armchair across from me.

'Us?' I move my hands from my face to look at him with a faint smile, that doesnt quite reach my eyes. The light hitting him somehow fusing into purple, I turned my attention outside, searching for any type of red light.

'How, do we get rid of the flat. . .' He corrects me, forcefully shoving his finger into the coffee table, punctuating the words.

A tinge of sadness sinks it's teeth in me, moving to gnaw on the edges of my mind. Just a few hours ago, he'd still been my best friend. Since childhood, in fact. And now?

'We can't, you know that. We already signed the contract.' I sigh, 'Besides, neither of us have anywhere else to go. Or do I have to remind you?' Crossing my legs, I lean against the back of the couch, Meticulously searching for that red. Perhaps it was just the anger swelling inside him, pushing outward, seeping into his skin and tinting it red. Mixing with the cool of the blue, however, unsuccesfull in calming him.

He clenches his jaw, 'You, don't have anywhere to go.' He points an accusing finger at me, 'I- On the other hand–'

'–Have nowhere to go.' I finish his sentence for him, exhaling it in a whisper, 'We only have eachother now, ironically enough.' I flash my eyebrows upward, the words tasting bittersweet on my tongue.

Reality seems to set in as he too, leans backward and looks out through the window. Now seeming more lost than angry. Nonetheless, he blames me, for. . . what happened. I reach out for him, gracing his knee with the tips of my fingers–

But he pulls back, yanking his knee out of reach for my touch and faces away from me completley. Turning his head over his shoulder, I feel him retracting within himself, tugging all previous feelings and memories with him. He closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath, 'Dont, I don't know you.' His voice was cold, 'You're nothing more than a roommate, a stranger im forced to share a home with.' Completley devoid of emotion.

My eyes stung with tears, and I hurry past him. Rushing upstairs to the loft, shutting myself in my bedroom.

That was a few weeks ago, the anger and sadness had settled. But in its wake, annoyance and spite had developed.

It felt very much like living with a sibling you hated dearly, a nemesis, your rival. Yet still loved, because of your ties.

'Just get out already!' I groan, stomping my foot into the floor from pure frustration. I felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but he just brought it out of me.

'I'm. Using. It.' He shouted, voice slightly muffled.

'For fu-' I stopped myself, but closed my eyes instead. Reminding myself to be the better person, 'I. Need. It.' I threw his punctuation back at him, 'I have to shower, youre making me late!' I shouted back through the door.

We both had a date, at the same time. Bucky was occupying the shower, it felt like he delayed just to make me late.

Eventually, the door opened and steam poured out of the opening. A cloud of buckys scents wafted in her face, and from it he emerged, with only a towel around his hips. With his bare upperbody on full display.

It's not like I hadn't seen him without a shirt before, but that had been as friends. Buy now that we weren't friends anymore. . . Well, I couldn't help but feel a little something.

He smiled smugly, 'Your turn.'

Oh how I wanted to scream at him, how could someone be so self-satisfied? I frantically gesture with my hands for him to move past me, and the second he did, I threw myself inside.

Finally, the water flooded down my body, every drop doing its duty in soothing an unwelcome ache. Stress and worry washing off of me, sliding into the drain, everything was perfect in this short, shielded time.

It would be over in a moment, when I rejoined the chaos that was my life.

But for now, my hand slipped downward. Quickly finding the source of my ache, and releaved it, rubbing it away in massaging circles. Doing my best to stifle my moans– When involuntarily, an image of Bucky popped up in my mind.

His towel around his hips, the low "V" on full display, his muscles rippling, torso stretching, showcasing his body and toned abs in all their glory. But what if those big hands had grabbed my waist, and pulled me close. What if he sank inside me, how heavenly it must feel. I bit my lip, my fingers moving faster. Realising too late that I was only spurring myself on, I came quickly, doing my best to stifle my moans. Toppling over, I leaned against the shower wall as I caught my breath. Praying I had been quiet enough.

When done, I hurried and dried myself off, then stepped out the shower a wrapped a towel around my torso. I took a quick look in the mirror, making sure that my actions were in no way visible on my face, then opened the door and re-entered the apartment.

The sun was just beginning to set, it was late in the day and the neon light had yet to come on. Golden light filled the apartment as–

Bucky fell onto the couch. . .

Almost looking like he'd jumped over the back of it.

I looked at him strangely, myself acting like I hadn't just touched myself to thoughts of him. 'You ok?' I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded, and grabbed a pillow, pressing it against his abdomen with an unreadable expression on his face, 'Mhm.' He hummed, 'Just fine, why would't I be?'

A violent urge to strangle him grabbed ahold of me, anger nipping at my skin, I was starting to tire of his passive-agressiveness. I inhaled through my nose, and exhaled through my mouth. Calming myself before I answered, 'You're right, how silly of me to ask. I don't even care.' and headed to my room.

What I did not see, was his eyes following me, lingering on my rosy cheeks and wet hair. Roaming over the bare parts of my skin, noting the way it was riddled with glistening water droplets. Nir had I seen, how he'd walked past the bathroom door earlier and somehow heard my moaning, or that he'd stayed and listened, intently. Sowly becoming more and more aroused. I did however, see a glimpse of him "smoothly" covering his tracks when I opened the door, the old run and jump maneuver. By some miracle, I didn't put the pieces together. Because I had not seen his erection either.

I put on my long, sleek, red satin dress.

It fell perfectly over my body, clinging to every curve. Paired with a pair of nude heels, my legs looked magnificent thorugh the slit too. I walked downstairs, expecting Bucky to make some snide remark, but he was nowhere to be found.

I figured I'd at least let him know im leaving. Presuming he was in his room, I approached it, and could indeed hear him inside.

But I wasnt to sure what to make of the sounds. My subconscious instics must've kicked in, because I reflexively took my heels off and snuck closer. Muffled grunts and slapping came from the other side of the door, they were, lewd almost, kind of like–

My jaw dropped. My name, I heard- I heard my name. He just moaned my name. Surely, this wasnt real, I scoffed internally. He was pranking me, right? Maybe it was an actress, or crush who shared my name? He was gonna open that door any second, jump out and tell me how stupid I was to think such a thing. Yet, something tightened inside me, a dull pulse flaring up.

There was a final groan, then the sound of a zipper. I blinked, frozen. Until I heard footsteps, and forced myself to snap out of it.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit! I quickly tiptoed over to the window, pretending to look outside. Realising I still had my heels in my hand, I had to alternate between putting them on and acting nonchalant.

The creaking sound of his door opening rang out behind me, and I yelped, my head whipping over my shoulder to look at him, taken completely off guard.

His eyes went wide as he met mine. His expression made it very clear that he'd expected me to be gone by now. 'Oh–' he clenched his jaw to keep it from falling. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looked around nervously, 'Thought you'd gone.' He said, irritation lacing his tone, 'Since you were so stressed about being late and all.' He remarked, narrowing his eyes.

God, the gall on this man.

I put my other heel on, and turn around completley, 'Stress that you caused, you mean?' I pointed out, the final rays of sun warming my back as I looked at him, 'Dont worry, I'll leave you to it.' A giggle bubbled up in my throat. I had to suck on my bottom lip to stiffle it and hide my smile.

I turned on my heel and fled, not sticking around to see his reaction.

I couldn't keep him off my mind, surely it was not me he meant, I heard wrong. He hates me, for gods sake!

At that thought, my date picked me up, and the night was pretty uneventful from there. We had dinner and drinks, but something else was occupying my mind. I was just replaying the way my name sounded falling from Buckys lips, the way he breathed it, moaned it. My core ached at the memory.

My date no doubt thought me distant, but it couldnt be helped. I was desperate for the feeling of a man inside me, for bucky more specifically. So I laid my hand on top of my date's, 'How about we take this to my place?' I asked, smiling seductively.

Eagerly, he agrees.

Arriving back, we stumbled into the apartment. Kissing enthusiastically, as the colorful light had returned. Bathing us in a dark red light. Faintly, it illuminated our path upstairs as I grabbed his hand and pulled him to my room. We'd been too busy to notice Bucky, already standing in the kitchen.

Who hadn't had a very succesful date either, the only difference being that he did not bring her back to their place. He respected their home, but apparently she did not. A feeling of anger bubbled up inside him, but it felt different. Not like it had that first night of their fight, now, he almost felt threatened. He scoffed, surely not, noo–

The red switched to green, and his brain thought it before he himself came to the conclusion, was it. . . Jealousy? He furrowed his brows, disputing with his his mind. Never, he hates her gut. Hes been teasing and annoying her, because he hates her. Simple as that. Earlier, today was just a moment of weakness, a man doing his manly obligations. That was all, he told himself and looked outside, the green light poking fun at him. Calling him out in ways he did not appreciate, it was nauseating.

He had to talk to her, go up there and put a stop to it. This was his apartment too, he had a veto.

He marched firmly up the stairs, the green contrasting the red hot anger on his face as the sounds of laughing grew stronger. He reached for the door handle, when he heard their moaning.

Her moaning more specifially, the sound of skin against skin, of a creaking bed and the way it thumped against the wall. His mind blurred the sounds of the other guy, and instead focused on the sound of her, her labored breathing, her whimpering and mewling. Wishing he was that guy right now. He could've listened all day, but snapped out of it. Shaking his head as he realised the immorality of it. He couldnt just barge in on them, he'd tell the guy to fuck off the second they were done. He nodded, yeah. . . His hand fell to his side as he took a step back–

She moaned, so beautiful. Humming, 'Ooh, fuck, thats good bucky.' The words slipped from her lips befor she could stop them.

Buck froze, they all froze. Blinking, he did a dubbel take. Huh?. . . Huuuh?

'I'm, uhm–' She tried.

'What did you just call me?' The guy questioned, 'Is- is that your roommates name?' Dumnfounded, he pulled himself off of her.

Bucky couldnt believe what he was hearing, he snickered 'Holy f— shit.' Unable to controll himself, he burst into pure laughter as he ran down the stairs. Covering his mouth in the motion, spite pouring out of his ears. 'What a marvelous, marvelous day.' He declared openly, throwing himself on the couch, arms splayed over the back. Waiting for the next scene to unfold.

The man, clothes in hand came rushing down the stairs, and noticed Bucky watching him, 'You him?' He asked.

Nodding, 'Uh, huh.' Bucky hummed, confirming the mans suspicious as a cocky smile spread across his face.

'Fantastic.' The stranger hissed, and muttered under his breath. '. . .Some competition. . .' Then fled the apartment, throwing his clothes on in a hurry.

Bucky laughed, 'So good,' and sighed with content, shaking his head in disbelief.

A second later, I came bounding down the stairs, a sheet pulled around my body. 'Did he leave already?' I asked, sprinting to the door.

Grinning, he answered, 'That he did.' Slanting his head in observation as he took her disheveled appearance in.

I run my hands through my hair in frustration, 'Shit!' My head then snapping to Bucky as he's just sitting there, snickering and looking at me smugly. 'What?' I ask, but he only shrugs, smiling stupidly. 'Wipe that smile of your face, you big idiot.' I shout, 'Where's your date, huh?'

Flinching, hes taken aback 'I didn't bring her home! Its called common curtesy!' He shouts back. Both incredibly sucessfull in riling the other up, immediately getting kn eachothers nerves.

'You jealous or something?' I throw my hands in the air, laughing incredulously.

'I don't need to be, I heard you, you know.' He smirked, 'Up there.' Nodding to my bedroom. And my blood runs cold, embarrassment prickling my face. But I clear my throat, trying to control my emotions, 'You were listening?' I quirk an eyebrow, the corner of my lip tugging.

'Wha– of course not! He protests.

'No? Well, I did.' And now it's my turn to grin, 'I heard you, too. Earlier today.'

His veins freeze, 'I don't know, what you mean. . .' Bucky begins–

'Yes you do.' I saunter toward him, getting right in his face. 'Just admit it.' I hiss, humouring myself.

Grabbing my jaw, he breathes 'I fucking hate you.' But I smile against his lips. The neon sign turning pink, painting us both in its lovely rose colour.

'No, you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.' And drop my sheet, stark naked underneath.

In a hurry, he crawls back on top of me, lining himself up with my core. Teasing, he slides his member up and down my folds, 'Fuck' I moan, and he slides in. Immidietly setting a gruesome pace, hitting my cervix with every thrust.

He looks at me with awe in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. He lools teribbly pained, 'I do, I do love you.' He whimpers, as if the sight of me and the the truth he'd refused to accept hurt him.

In a clash, his lips met mine. Feverishly our mouths clash together, tongues waisting no time in tasting the other. His hands glide down my sides, until they grab my ass and he lifts me into his arms. I gasp and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling on his hair, making him grunt. He walks us into his bedroom, and throws me onto the bed with a yelp, then crawls on top of me. Kissing his way up my body until our mouths found their way back to eachother. I unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt, hastily pulling them both off of him. He sits back, and zips down his pants, kicking them off. His size was more than enough.

He groans in my ear, snaking his hand up to my throat and as he leans on the other. Nuzzling my face softly, his hand toghtens around my throat, lightly choking me as his hips slam into mine hard into mine.

My hands roam his back, sinking my nails into his skin whenever a particularly rough thrust sends a spirit breaking ache through my body. His lips trace their way down my jaw, specking it with kisses, whispering 'I love you.' In muffled moans against my skin.

I grin, and run my hands through his hair 'Good boy.' I whisper–

He whimpers, 'Fuck.'

The snap of his hips falter as the both of us are reaching our orgasm. He kisses his way down my throat, meanwhile adjusting his hold around it. 'I love you.' He mutters between every kiss, when he finally falls over the edge. His seed spilling inside of me as he does his best to keep thrusting, helping me to reach my own climax. With the chole of his hand, member inside me and his muffled I love you's. The knot tightens in my stumache, and I topple over too. How could I not?

'I love you too.' I whisper, and I feel him smile against my throat as he squeezes it one last time. 'Good, it was too hard to stay mad at you.'

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfiction #bucky imagjne #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #enemies to lovers

1K notes · View notes

elllisaaa · 7 months

Text

no nut november - han jisung (5th to lose)

-> pairing : han x fem!reader

-> words count : 5k

-> genre : smut, ennemies-to-lovers

-> warnings : switch!han swearing, teasing, dirty talk, praising, protected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), face sitting, deep throathing, masturbation (m. and f.), use of 'good girl' and 'baby boy', marking, hair pulling, begging, a little bit of angst because han and y/n are dumb + the way i'm depicting jisung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

“- Are you serious !?”

Your smirk widened as you heard his annoyed voice ringing in the room. He must have found out that you finished Felix’s cookie. But Felix was your best friend, you didn’t like Han and you were hungry. Logical conclusion : you ate them regardless. The door of your room swung open as Jisung bursted into it, visibly furious. You turned around in your chair, your eyes falling in his angry ones immediately.

“- Serious about what ?

- Please ! I know you’re dumb but not that much.”

And your smile told it all : you knew very well what he was talking about, but pretending you didn’t and irritating him even more was always entertaining.

“- Oh ! The cookies, is that it ?

- Yes, that’s it !

- Well, how could’ve I known that you wanted one ?

- You could’ve been nice, for once in your life ?

- Towards you ? Never !

- I hate you.”

Jisung didn’t give you the time to answer but you didn’t mind, you just watched him storming out of your room, bragging about how much of a bitch you were.

“- I hate you too, don’t worry !”

You heard a door slamming somewhere in the apartment, and you laughed quietly at the noise, happy to have angered him to the point he left once again. It was either him or you who ran away from your arguments, but it was always about silly things like these cookies. You preferred to avoid serious subjects. It was safer, because you knew yourself, and you thus knew you were capable of saying the wrong thing very easily. The only thing you allowed yourself to do in his presence was fighting and teasing him, because you knew that he was attracted to you as much as you were to him.

In the first place, you weren’t seeing him as anything but a talented guy. You became trainees almost at the same time, and he was so much better than you at everything. He was good at dancing, singing, rapping, and composing music. Everything he did was immediately incredible, just because it was him. You weren’t bad, not at all, but having this as your goal to reach and surpass was overwhelming and putting pressure on you. On top of that, Jisung had a good personality. He was kind, funny and a good friend. He even tried to help you a few times, but all you had in mind was that he was your rival, your enemy. So, you pushed him away, not seeing the disappointment in his eyes everytime you did.

And little by little, your frustration of not being able to do at least as good as him started to become hate, until the point there was no going back, until the point the only thing holding you back from saying it all to him was your career. Jisung must have sensed your hostility, because he started to look at you from afar, he stopped trying to talk to you and you felt relieved somehow - you couldn’t have carried on with this behavior if he kept being so gentle with you.

The thing was that you couldn’t help being attracted to him, even after all your arguments, after all that jealousy. With time, it all faded to end up in a bittersweet habit that you didn’t want to break, afraid that it would shatter the only relationship that you had with him. You weren’t jealous anymore, but you didn’t know how to act around him, other than arguing for the most stupid things.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“- Felix !”

You jumped in your friend’s arms, happy to see him after this exhausting night. You liked to see other people, but award shows were always nerve wracking for you. Your favorite part of it was just starting : the after party. Felix guided you to a table where he poured you a drink that you definitely needed and deserved after all the hard work you put in to win this award. As you were talking with him, you let your eyes wander around the room until they landed on Jisung.

He must have felt your gaze on him because he turned to you, his eyes fixed on yours. Your smile widened when he looked down, checking out your outfit. When he glanced at you again, you felt like a fire had started to burn into your stomach. He always had that effect on you, raising up something you didn’t want to think about. What you wanted to think about right now was your plan.

Your plan was to make him surrender. Felix had told you about their stupid bet once, when he was a little drunk with you, and you decided to take advantage of it, you decided to make Han lose. If there was only one thing about him that you knew, it’s that he was as attracted to you as you were to him. You tried almost everything you could to bring him to the edge. But you didn’t get any reactions out of him, which was really starting to irritate you.

So, tonight was the night. If you got nothing from him this time too, you would give up. And maybe it would help you to move on from him, finally. Deep inside, you really hoped he would react, because you didn’t want to stop seeing him, teasing him, fighting with him. It was the good part of each one of your days, you didn’t want it to stop.

And you didn’t stop, spending the whole night touching him even when it wasn’t necessary, staying close to him even if you didn’t address a word to him, teasing him even if he seemed more and more tense as time passed by. But it wasn’t like you were exactly calm yourself, on the contrary. You drank, and drank, and drank to relax, until the point you were a bit tipsy. You were less anxious, but the control you had over your words worsened too quickly. You would have to stop with alcohol if you wanted to keep a little dignity.

And as you laughed one more time at one of Jeongin’s joke, you landed your hand on Jisung’s arm, feeling a shiver running on his bare skin. He got rid of his stage outfit, instead wearing black tight jeans and a white shirt tucked inside, making his waist look so slutty you practically drooled at the sight. Suddenly, your wrist was trapped inside the iron grip of his fingers, leaving you no other choice than to follow him when he excused himself, pulling you with him to the hallway, slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

“- What do you think you’re doing ?”

He was breathing heavily, as if he was holding back from saying or doing something - and you hoped it was from fucking you right there. You smiled innocently under his lustful gaze, trying not to seem too excited by the whole situation.

“- I didn’t do anything Jisung… What do you think I’m doing ?”

Han took a step towards you, checking you out without an ounce of shame. Why should he after all ? You did that too many times to count, couldn’t really hold it against him now.

“- I think you’re trying to make me lose. It’s all about that bet, isn’t it ? Wanted to see me fall apart since the first day.

- And ? Did it work ?”

You watched closely when he licked his lips, wondering what he could do to your body with that exact same tongue. He took another step towards you, and another, until his face was only inches away from yours.

“- You want to see how much ?

- Yes.”

Your voice came out shaky, but Jisung didn’t seem to mind since he took your face into his hands, lowering his lips to the point they were almost touching yours. He took a second or two, taking in your whole face as if he wanted to remember it forever. But quickly, everything that wasn’t his lips on yours left your mind : the moment he kissed you, the world got blurred.

Han’s hands found their way to your hips, gripping on them to keep you as close to him as possible. You ran your fingers through his hair, opening your mouth gladly when you felt his tongue licking your lips, moaning when he deepened the kisses. You felt your back hit the wall behind you, and Jisung’s body pressing into yours. You smiled lightly when his erection pressed up against your thigh. All you did was for that exact moment, for the moment he’ll finally give up.

Without a word, you pushed him away from you just enough for you to get on your knees, your hands searching for his belt immediately. But Jisung stopped you just as quickly, putting his hands on yours. Your eyes fell into his, absolutely loving what you saw. It was what you wanted all along, seeing how much he wanted you. He was out of breath, his cheeks were bright red, his hair were messy thanks to your hands and his gaze was shining with envy. He was just so hot, without even trying.

“- We shouldn’t do that…

- What ? You’re gonna tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick ?”

You distinctly saw him shallow, his eyes wandered all around the corridor before they came back to you.

“- I just don’t want you to be seen loving it so much.”

His fucking smirk was back, and you never thought you’ll like it this much one day. But you did. And as his hands left yours, you came back to your previous activity, unbuckling his belt and sliding his clothes just enough to free his cock. You stuck your tongue out, licking just his tip playfully, and then all along his dick.

“- Hurry up, we can’t get caught.”

You chuckled lightly ; of course he didn’t want to admit that he was just craving your touch. But he wasn’t totally wrong. You were in a hallway, and even if it was late and that the probability of someone walking on you was very low, maybe it could happen. And to be honest, you were excited by this idea, by someone seeing how desperate Jisung was for you, that he needed you to the point he couldn’t hold back until you were alone - ignoring the fact that you offered that.

Maybe he was desperate, but you were eager to please him too, to finally feel him and taste him. You took his cock in your mouth little by little, relaxing your throat with slow moves of your head. When your nose touched his pubis, you could tell Jisung was really lost in his pleasure. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his mouth was hanging open, letting out whimpers and pleas.

“- I swear if you don’t start to move I’m going to lose my mind…”

Jisung could have easily taken your hair and made you move himself, but he was so putty in your hands his body wasn’t responding anymore. You grabbed his thighs for support - and not because you wanted to touch them, not at all - then, you finally started to bob your head. You heard Han whine loudly, biting his lower lip immediately to prevent any other sound to escape his mouth.

“- S-Shit ! You’re too good at that…”

Maybe you would have responded, if your mouth wasn’t full. One of his hand flew to your hair, gripping on them tightly when you hollowed your cheeks and twirled your tongue around his cock. He was hitting the back of your throat with each move you’d make, and you could sense that he was holding back from fucking your mouth, you could feel his dick twitching. But you didn’t want him to restrain himself. No. You wanted him to completely let go, completely give in to you. So you sucked him harder.

“- F-Fuck ! Don’t stop… Please.”

You let his cock fall out of your mouth, licking on it a few times before glancing back at him. He looked fucked out already, and you liked it too much for your own good.

“- No need to beg for it baby… Serve yourself.”

His dick was back in your mouth before he could say a single word, a moan escaping his lips instead. Jisung let out another obscenity before he started to thrust into your mouth slowly, not wanting to hurt you at first, but he quickly lost control at how tight your throat felt around him. Your eyes filled up with tears as he started fucking your mouth faster, roughly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was seemingly on the edge of his climax.

Han knew he had to stop. He should have stopped before cumming, he would’ve still participated in the bet. However, he couldn't. He couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t stop you. He was dreaming about this for too long to stop now. All he wanted was to shoot his load down your throat and then bury his face in your pussy for hours.

“- Oh God ! I-I can’t… I- Fuck, baby !”

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth once again, and then his hot cum landed directly in your throat, leaving you no other choice but to swallow it, moaning too when you finally tasted him. Some of his seed spilled out of your mouth, dripping on your chin and then on the floor, but your mind was focused on how sweet Jisung’s voice was sounding, whimpering your name as you licked him clean. He seemed to definitely lose it when you gathered the cum resting on your chin on your thumb, sucking on it right after.

When you got back on your feets, your knees were aching, and your jaw too. But it was worth it, especially when you saw Han trying to recompose himself by arranging his hair, trying to look unbothered but you could see his hands shaking. Were you in a better state ? Not really since your panties were soaked in your arousal, sticking to your cunt. And you knew by the way he had gripped your hair that they were probably too messy to only look like you two had another argument.

“- Y/N ?”

You were about to head back inside after arranging your hairstyle a bit, trying to not let him see how shaken you were by what had just happened. You put on a mask of confidence before turning to look at him, finding Han buried in a state of nervousness you’ve never seen him into before. He had always been that cocky guy around you, full of himself as if he knew the effect he had on you, not that anxious boy scratching the back of his neck and barely looking at you.

“- What ?

- Do… Do you want to come with me to the hotel ? I didn’t even had the chance to show you how well I can use that tongue…”

If he had let you see a vulnerable side of him, it disappeared quickly, only to let you contemplate that smug smile of his. You sighed, holding back your own smile to spread across your face. Wasn’t that what you waited for ?

“- You’ll have to make it worth it baby.”

He tried no to show how much this nickname was affecting him, or how turned on your smirk was getting him already. You had certainly noticed at this point, but he had always been admirative of your ability to act like nothing happened even when you should have been crying. Like this time when you performed for your monthly evaluations with a broken ankle, smiling at the jury as if you weren’t dying on the inside. Or like right now, as you were jocking around with Felix and San, as if he wasn’t fucking your throat minutes ago. Jisung would never say it out loud, but he had dreamt about this since the first time his eyes crossed yours in the rehearsal room, years ago.

______________

You stumbled across his room, not even remembering how you made it to the door, the only thing crossing your mind being his hands trying to unzip your dress, and yours unbuckling his belt for the second time tonight. You pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed and getting rid of your dress yourself under his hungry gaze. Jisung’s eyes were wide open, watching closely as the piece of clothing fell to the floor, pooling at your feets.

He tried to say something, but his throat was dry, and he could only look as you straddled him. His body seemed to understand what was happening only when you leaned in to kiss him again, your tongue entering his mouth easily. His hands wandered on your skin, moaning when he felt your warmth under his touch and your fingers running through his hair.

“- You’re so gorgeous… I need more baby, please…”

You took a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, earning some incoherent whines from him.

“- You need what ? You need to be more specific, baby boy.”

It only made him moan some more as you started grinding against his bulge. The fact that he was still fully dressed while you were only wearing your underwear turned him on. You should’ve been the one feeling small and vulnerable, but here you were, teasing him, having control, and Han loved it.

“- I need you to touch me… Please, please…”

Your smile softened when you heard him beg. It was what you had always dreamt of - of having Han Jisung on his knees for you.

“- But didn’t you promise to show me how well you could use your tongue ?

- Yes ! Yes, I’ll eat you out, I just want to be good for you…”

There was something so wrong about seeing this proper and talented guy so desperate for you, and only you. But it was also so exciting, you didn’t think about it twice before throwing away your panties and pushing him to lay down on the mattress. And when Jisung saw you crawling until you straddled his face this time, he felt like his heart would come out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

“- You’ll better not make me regret coming here baby.”

Maybe he would have responded, if his mouth wasn’t full of your pussy. You lowered yourself on his tongue, moaning when he started to lick your clit. You kept yourself up on your knees, not wanting to suffocate him, but his hands gripped your thighs, pushing you entirely on his face, not giving a fuck about if he could still breath or not. He just wanted to dive in your cunt forever, to taste you for hours, to stay between your thighs for as long as you’ll allow him to.

“- That’s it Hannie, feels so good…”

You grabbed his hair again, pressing his face harder against your wetness, getting him to moan so loudly you thought he was coming. Jisung licked your slit, tasting your sweet juice again and again, knowing he’d never get tired of it. His tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves harshly, feeling your thighs tense under his fingers. Your moans were making him dizzy, and he was so hard he thought he could come undone just from your savor and your praises.

“- So great with that tongue, you didn’t lie… Now make me cum, I can’t wait to feel you in me…”

Han didn’t need you to tell him twice before he pushed his tongue past your walls, his nose rubbing against your clit. You threw your head back as waves of pleasure washed over you, grinding on his face shamelessly and crying out his name over and over, until it felt too much. Your legs were trembling as you slowly got off from him, allowing him to finally sit up.

He was as breathless as you, his lips and chin were covered in your arousal, his eyes were glistening, and you didn’t know if it was from tears or just excitement. You stared at each other for a few seconds, without saying a word, before his hoarse voice came out.

“- Let me fuck you… Please…”

You bit your lips, your eyes focusing solely on his lips for a moment, before you leaned in to kiss him again. This was enough of an answer for Jisung, and this time, everything coming near to demanding was only a memory as he grabbed your breast over your bra roughly. You moaned in the kiss, and he took advantage of it to rub his tongue against yours messily, saliva dripping down your chin.

He didn’t stop kissing you when he took off your underwear, nor when he pinned you against the bed, only letting your mouth go to get rid of his own clothes. He threw them away quickly, not caring where they landed as your hands ran his chest up and down, biting your bottom lip as he also got rid of his pants and underwear. You couldn’t lie to yourself when it came to him : he was looking like a greek god, naked under the moonlight.

“- Fuck me Jisung. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes darkened, if that was even possible, but you didn’t get the chance to admire that as he dived in again to kiss you passionately, moaning in each other's mouth, teeth clashing and tongues dancing together. You felt his hands caressing your knee before spreading them open with a strength you didn’t think he’d have. Another whine escaped your lips at the images running in your mind from this newfound information.

“- Please, tell me you have a condom or I might go crazy.”

You smiled, and pushed him away just enough to grab your bag abandoned on the floor next to the bed, searching in a little side pocket to hand him a condom, trying not to get distracted by his hands grabbing your ass cheeks.

“- I’m surprised you don’t have one.

- Sorry, didn't expect a little brat to suck my dick tonight.”

You chuckled at his mumbled words, pulling on his hair to bring back his lips on yours. Jisung tried to focus on it all at once : getting the condom on, kissing you, and not fainting. He seemed all confident and composed, but his hands were shaking from anticipation and nervousness as they landed on your thighs again. He knew you were the type to get a new guy every week just for fun, you had so much more experience than him, what if he ended up embarrassing himself ?

“- If you don’t fuck me right now, I might go crazy.”

Your whiny voice - as much as you tried to sound composed - made him come back to reality. And the moment he pushed his cock past your folds, the moment he felt your wetness engulfing him, the moment he heard your desperate moans for more of his dick, his brain deactivated definitely. Han hissed when he finally filled you up fully, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck as he started moving, holding your legs up, allowing him to thrust deeper each time.

“- Fuck… You feel so good, so wet and tight just for me… It is just for me right ?”

He didn’t know where this possessiveness was coming from, nor did you, but judging by the way you clenched around him as he whispered the words against your sensitive skin, it wasn’t really bothering you. But you didn’t answer, focused on the way his cock was hitting all the right places already, making it hard for you to contain your noises. Until a hard thrust of his hips made you cry out his name.

“- F-Fuck Jisung ! Keep going…

- Answer baby, is this all for me ?”

Another thrust that made you see stars behind your closed eyes - a vain attempt to hold yourself back from moaning at each one of his moves. He kissed the skin of your neck slowly at first, quickly turning into sucking, biting and marking you. You had a stage tomorrow, and it was obvious that it would leave purple marks on your skin. But at this exact moment you couldn’t care less about it.

“- Yes, yes, just for you !”

Han groaned loudly before he stood up on his knee, wrapping your legs around his waist and his hands gripping on your body as he started to pound into you, making your back arch and your mouth hang open, an incoherent mix between pleas, his name and animalistic sounds coming out. Trying to keep some sanity, you grabbed the sheets beneath you, looking up at Jisung between your legs : sweats was glistening on his skin, moans falling from his lips with every little clench of your cunt around him

“- That’s my good girl… Shit ! Letting me use her sweet pussy like that, screaming only my name. Only mine.

- Yeah ! Y-Yes… Only yours Ji !”

Your grip on the sheets wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him.

“- More.”

It took no more than a word from you to get him. The weight of his body soon crushed you into the mattress, the skin-to-skin contact making you whimper. You immediately ran one of your hands through his hair, the other one resting on his back, needing to feel more of him. He came back to your neck, attacking the other side this time as the speed of his thrusts increased. Your nails dug into the skin of his back when he hit your g-spot again, making you clench so hard around him he thought you were cumming.

“- God, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that princess…

- Don’t care, I want your cum all over me.”

A loud moan escaped his mouth before you felt him pull out of your dripping cunt, jerking himself off right away. The loss of his dick was soon replaced by two of your own fingers pushing into your pussy, circling your clit as you watched him fall apart in front of your eyes.

“- Oh fuck ! Shit, shit, shit… I-”

Another loud moan interrupted him as his hot cum landed on your stomach and breast, some even ending up on your chin. His blissed out face and little whines as he slowly stopped moving his hand just did it for you, cumming hard around your own fingers, missing the look of wonder Han threw at you when you came, rubbing your thighs gently to help you come back to reality.

You didn’t know how much time passed by like this, next thing you knew was that you were in Jisung’s arms, legs tangled, and your face buried in his chest. Your eyes opened with difficulty, blinded by the light of the bright sun coming from the window - you didn’t really care about closing the curtains last night. With almost as much struggle, you managed to get out of his embrace, heading to the bathroom with your clothes from yesterday that you picked up on the floor.

As soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror, you gasped. If last night, you enjoyed his mouth on your neck, you were regretting it now that you saw how many hickeys he left on your skin, and how dark they were. You couldn’t ask the stylist to give you something else since the outfits of your group had already been selected. You sighed while thinking about what you’ll need to do to convince the staff so they would cover this up with makeup.

“- Couldn’t keep his mouth shut, as always.

- I won’t apologize for this, everyone should know you’re mine”

You turned around quickly, finding Jisung landing against the door frame of the bathroom, his fucking smirk back on his lips as you tried to process what he had just said. Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t do that. It was too complicated. So you just decided to brush it off, and focused on taking off your makeup that was smeared around your eyes instead - keeping your hands busy to keep your mind busy too.

“- Stop with that. I’m not yours.”

You saw his smile drop in the mirror, and it suddenly felt like a heavy burden was weighing on your shoulders, like it was getting harder to breathe.

“- I- Fuck… I can’t keep this up anymore Y/N.

- What are you talking about ?”

Maybe playing dumb would allow you to ditch this conversation. You were not ready. Not ready to admit what you were feeling, and not ready to accept that he was maybe feeling the same way.

“- I’m talking about us, about… About this whole fucked up relationship, because I know for a fact that you don’t hate me, and I can’t bring myself to hate you either. I’m tired of lying and always pretending that I don’t want to be near you when this is all I dream about. I don’t know what you want, but I’m pretty sure that I want you all for myself.”

From the way he was talking, from the anger and sadness that was pouring out of his words, you knew that it came from his heart, that he had been holding back for a long time. And maybe you did too. Because you slowly turned to look at him again, head down and playing with his fingers restlessly.

“- I… It’s way too complicated Jisung, and you know it.”

Suddenly, his eyes were fixed in yours again, and you were only inches away from each other’s body. It seemed as if his gaze was burning with fire, as if he was struggling to keep himself together.

“- I don’t give a fuck about that ! I don’t give a fuck about the stupid shit you find complicated ! Because you know that it is not impossible, you know it. I just want you. That’s as simple as that.”

You breathed heavily as he calmed down quickly, coming back to his previous state of anxiety. You didn’t dare to say a word, afraid to hurt him once again when all you really wanted was to hold him.

“- Please, just say something.”

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you hugged him tight, his arms immediately wrapping around you, as if it was where you should be. Your plan was not to get there, but now that his fingers were stroking your hair gently, and that his intoxicating scent was surrounding you, were you really regretting it ?

“- Maybe… Maybe I want you all for myself too, and… Maybe we can try.”

Both of you will need a long and serious talk, but Han’s smile as he buried his face in your hair and your heart fluttering when he did so was enough of an explanation for now. And as he took you back to the bed, caressing your skin tenderly, the bet was long forgotten.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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1K notes · View notes

thisisnotthenerd · 28 days

Text

how does it feel to be the rat grinders in that final fight

building up to a ritual you've spent the last year on, angry and tired and expending effort on this one thing so that you might finally get the recognition, the accolades you think you deserve. being special for once, in the face of a party of legend. of oracles and saints, angels and devils, great wizards and bards, inheritors of family legacy and tragedy alike who all seem to skate.

having to work hard in the shadows because you took the easy path and yet have to catch up with these people who so easily belittle you. seeing them rake in the benefits of popularity, running on a platform of flimsy ideas instead of true policy and yet still they have the school dancing to their tune. it's for the ritual, but the ache of it stings as they call you out again and again, laughing in your face for wanting something.

so much work, so much research, traveling and hiding for months as the bad kids are lauded and pass the year with a bullshit exam that you fail to rig against them, catching you in a moment of chance even as they survive what would kill you easily.

seeing them (her) haunt your dreams and die on your front lawn, forever chasing after someone who never existed in the first place. they imitate what they've seen of you. she disappears and yet is there to strike you down because the girl you think you could love hates you with all of her being.

being used by your teachers against your rivals and yet somehow they are nicer, closer to them than to you. more angry about their success, more invested in their progress.

summoning your full force, putting your family in danger, finally getting one over on them (her) only for them to be struck from the sky and thrown in your face as an insult.

seeing them going to work simply to decimate you and strike you down, with less power than you but more tenacity, more stamina, more true experience earned in the wide world. not knowing what to do as they do so with ease, dancing through the lava and flames with nary a thought but your destruction.

seeing them survive and bounce back from the attacks that struck down lucy. they didn't need rage to get here. they didn't need a nameless goddess, or midnights in the forest with monsters, spreading crystals in the dirt for a pieces of a plan years in the making.

18 seconds in and three of you are dead. there's no rage crystal that can save you this time. there's only blood and fire on the floorboards and the bad kids coming in for the glory again. they don't care that you're kids in their class.

with every moment it becomes clear that you are no longer people to them, just obstacles, failed investments, minor villains in their heroic journey.

was it worth it?

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #the rat grinders #ivy embra #oisín hakinvar #ruben hopclap #kipperlilly copperkettle #mary ann skuttle #buddy dawn #lucy frostblade #the bad kids #d20 poetic thoughts

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satowooo · 4 days

Text

kiss it better

Suguru always hated it when you break up with him when you're having a mental breakdown. So what's he gonna do to make his baby feel better?

contents. slight academic rivals to lovers (barely mentioned), suguru x reader, eventual smut, fluff, cowgirl, bottom suguru, slapping, rough sex, pet names, degration, not proofread.

Do what you gotta do, keep me up all night.

your relationship with suguru became on and off ever since you two started dating. he could vaguely remember why, but he knows one thing.

your relationship with him started off as enemies. he remembers how you were always so angry at him, your bratiness showing every time he was a step further than you in academics.

being a straight A student is something that he likes to brag about, knowing that you're right there to keep him on his toes because you're just as smart as him. he knows how you tire yourself to study every night and day, sleeping and almost living in the library whenever an exam week is coming, never going out of your room and not eating until you understood and memorized all your notes, and how you'd never talk to him the whole time you're busy studying. and what does he hates the most? you breaking up with him for it.

you're a top student, but you're always in second place because he beats you to it. it never fails to make you upset, but you don't really blame suguru for being good at what he does. rather, you blame yourself for not studying enough as if your brain is already not about to explode for every information that you try to force into your brain.

and suguru hates it enough that you have to break up with him just for you to torture yourself in the confines of your room with all the papers and academic works controlling over your body and mind. he hates it everytime because he knows how hard you are being to yourself.

“baby, i’m coming inside, okay?” suguru called outside your door after knocking several times. he didn't wait for another answer as he twists the knob, pushing the door open.

“suguru, no-”

he heard your sniffles. and his heart ache at the sight before him.

you were sitting at your study desk. papers scattered around in a mess, some of it drenched in your tears. your eyes reddened, and you looked at him in frustration as you stood up.

“i told you to leave me alone, suguru.” you said, wiping your tear stained cheek.

he looks over at your bed, to the crumpled sheets, feathers flying around from your pillow, knowing that you probably had been punching it in your frustration. he sighs and walks over to you, immediately cupping your cheeks to look you in the eyes.

“you think breaking up with me would solve the problem?” he whispers softly, kissing your eyes, your tears.

you looked away, tilting your head to the side so as to not look at him. “it's for the better. you're only distracting me from my studies.”

he closed his eyes tightly, before holding your jaw so you could face him properly. your hands clutched his shirt at the proximity between you. “i’m distracting you?” your words sting, his heart clenching at the way you're trying so hard to push him away. but he wouldn't have all that. “come on. i know you're mad. punish me then.”

“suguru-”

“i always tell you that i’m here to help. but you're too hard headed to ask for it.” his tone was firm, his eyes turning dark at the way you tried to get away from his grasp. he lets out an exasperated breath before loosening his grip from you. “don't hurt yourself, baby. hurt me instead.”

“suguru, you don't understand. i am angry, fine, i admit.” the grip you had on his shirt tightened, a shaky breath escaping from your lip as tears started to form on your eyes again. “i don’t want to take it out on you when i’m clearly a mess, suguru. you don't get it because you're always too good and i’m not enough. i can't be enough for you if i’m like this-”

once again, suguru cut you off. your words flying off his ear as he interrupted you with a fierce kiss. his tongue darting out for entrance and you didn't push him away. your words muffled from the way he pressed his lips, making you shut up and revel onto your desires as your lips parted, your tongue delving out to taste him.

all your worries easily slipped away. his thumb swiftly wiping the tear that escaped your eyes while not breaking the kiss. he pulled away for a moment before capturing it once again, this time gentler than the first.

to suguru, it was always the same words no matter how much he reassured you. so what's he going to do? make you feel like the queen you deserved to be.

“come on, princess. just like that.” he grunted, his hand gripping on your hips as he slammed you down on his cock. “come on, tell me how mad you are right now. let me hear you.”

“f-fuck you, suguru…” you gasps, your hips rocking back and forth deliciously on his shaft. your teeth were clenched in frustration, your anger still brewing inside your heart by the way he had you easily straddling him.

“that's it, baby. let it out, let it all out on me.” he coos, gently running his fingers on your spine. the action sent shivers all over your body, your thrust rapidly increasing by each second. “you're so mad, aren't you? you don't like it when i'm doing good?”

"s-stop... ahh..." you huffed, face flushed as your pussy clenched around him. your hips were beginning to ache for how harsh you were slamming against his lap. and he had that annoying look on his face that got you riled up.

you know exactly what he's trying to do. suguru wants a reaction. for you to let it out on him. to be mad at him instead of being mad at yourself.

he gripped your ass firmly, a knowing smirk etched on his lip. “do i make you cry, princess? because i’m better? in studies… and even in fucking you?”

that definitely strikes a nerve right there. your pace increasing, your nails digging on his shoulder from how hard you're holding onto him. “shut up… sh-shut up…”

“that all you got?” he said darkly, sweat forming in his forehead. he gave your ass a firm squeeze before landing a smack, making you jolt in pleasure. “you're so fucking pathetic, princess. you're really crying over that? you look so fucking dumb with my cock inside-”

a harsh slap on his cheek echoed all over the room. your breathing coming in short gasps, while suguru was smiling. he was fucking smiling.

the slap reddened his cheek but it didn't even look like it hurt him. he huffed and squeezed your hip. suguru was drowned in pure bliss as he groaned, your hips thrusting so harshly, squeezing his cock like there's no tomorrow.

“fuck, baby…” he growled, the sting of your slap erotic and pleasurable that it got him ramming his hip upward. you could see the veins on his neck popping out, his eyes darkening as his fingers found your breasts. “fuck y-yeah… do that again, hm? show me how much you fucking hate me…”

you moaned, your back arching and body pressing against his chest. his lips latched on your nipple, while his other hand found your clit. he rubbed circles against it, making you cry and scratch your nails on his chest.

“you’re so worked up for all your studies, and for what?” he sneered, chuckling darkly at you. you bit your lip as another slap went across his cheek, feeling all the anger forcing its way to give him what he wants. you knew damn well that suguru was enjoying on riling you up, coaxing you to take it out on him by saying those words that he knew would gain the right reaction that he needs.

“fuck you, sugu… f-fuck you…”

“doing so well for me, baby.” he leaned forward to capture your lips, his lips grazing your earlobe. “you can do more than that, don't you?”

your thrusts became more erratic as his voice rang over your ears. you grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it down so he could look at you. your face was a mix of both anger and pleasure, a sight that made suguru feel more aroused. he groaned as your hand flew over on his cheek again, his eyes glistening with lust.

“ohh, f-fuck!” the thumb on your clit increased its pace, as slaps after slaps on his face kept coming, eager to erase that stupid grin on his lips.

suguru grunted, his moans getting louder each second that it syncs with your sounds. your hand traveled up his throat, pressing on gently enough to restrict his breathing.

he let out a strangled laugh causing you to land another slap on his face. he can't believe that he felt so fucked out, enjoying the pleasure and roughness that you were giving him. the angered look on your face made his cock twitch inside you.

your hips thrusts up and down. up and down. unrelenting. it became frantic as his cock hit your right spots, driving you wild in ecstasy.

he could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, your thrusts became more urgent, your gripped on his neck beginning to tighten. his eyes were tied shut, suguru’s chest heaving as your wetness engulfed his cock.

“i’m cumming, baby. f-fuck, you gon’ cum, princess? you're doing so good- f-fucking hell…”

he hears your whines. his name rolling out of your tongue in desperation to reach your high. he bucked his hips, thrusting forward to meet yours, pistoning in and out furiously as the pleasure built up.

“suguru! ahh! hhk-” your hips shattered, your body convulsing with your orgasm reaching its peak. suguru let out a growl in pleasure, his hands squeezing your ass firmly. his own orgasm quickly approached, hot semen spurting right inside your sweet hole.

he breathes heavily, thrusting his cum right inside you slowly, making sure that nothing would come to waste. your hands released his neck, seeing how it turned red by the way you gripped so harshly. even his face was all flushed from all the slapping you did, with a small bruise forming on his temple, but suguru had a grin on his face.

his hair disheveled, chest heaving as you both catch your breaths. “still mad, baby?”

you shake your head, looking at him apologetically. “not anymore. i’m sorry, did i hit you too hard?”

suguru chuckled, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure you just gave him. he took your hand in his, kissing your palm softly. “i fucking loved it, baby.”

he looks at you lovingly. suguru has already memorized you like the back of his hands, from your body to your heart and beneath your soul. and he'll do anything to make you feel better, to make you feel loved and cared for. he adores you so much that he wouldn't allow letting your insecurities pull you down.

suguru holds your hips, rocking yourself gently on his cock. your eyes rolling back, a soft moan escaping from your lips. he smiled, resting his head on the crook of your neck. “you're enough, baby. always remember that, okay?” he looked up at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. you basked into the aftermath of your lovemaking, your head falling on his chest as you nodded at his words. “don't ever doubt your abilities. failure is inevitable, it's a part of ourselves that symbolizes the efforts we do for trying.” suguru whispers, gently placing kisses all over your face. “and i love you for all your flaws and failures. don't ever think that you're not enough for me.”

🙂‍↕️ i genuinely want to make an academic rivals to lovers fic/series with suguru

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