#⠀from my heart to rim’s ^^ ⠀

[theratcircus]

Self indulgent headcanon that Newt is disabled too, just in a way that most people don’t clock at first. Their first meeting is around the time Hermann first has to use a mobility aid due to EDS & he’s still a bit insecure about it & of course Newt being Newt, he draws an unnecessary amount of attention to it & makes what he thinks are lighthearted jokes to lighten to mood. After a certain point Hermann just snaps, saying something about how Newt could never understand what it was like, only to find out later (possibly years later when they’re forced to work in a lab together) that he’s got some form of dysautonomia & is at this point multiple cans of caffeine/salt shots in a trench coat cosplaying as a human being. Man is scooting himself around on his wheeled chair with half his vision blacked out still trying to argue with Hermann & slowly he starts to realize that this idiot is running himself into the ground & progressively getting worse because he’s too stubborn to take care of his damn self.

It all comes to a head after a week of Newt passing out in or near Kaiju remains that Hermann decides if this idiot won’t take his disability seriously that he would do it for him. Hermann who always makes sure Newt has little snacks or small meals nearby that he thinks he’s stealing from Hermann or that was leftover from his eyes being too big for his stomach. Hermann who bargains with him- that he’d agree that Newt was right about something Only If Newt would drink a full glass of water first. Hermann who gets one of the Jaegers to install an extra fan on Newt’s side if the lab so he doesn’t overheat in the summer months & “accidentally” leaves a warm jacket on the back Newt’s chair to keep him warm during the winter months.

[townieboyfriend]

unsure if this has been a talking point before but the whole thing with hermann canonically having a family offscreen is so gut wrenching to me because of the implication that he knew that his child would never grow up or likely even be born. vanessa was supposed to be due in april '25, around the same time he calculated the triple event would take place </3

[thecosmicsailor]

Goldthwait Park, not too long after the most eventful week in these two’s life.

[doeyun]

⠀

[unnonexistence]

idk if there's anything in stories i get more petty about than poorly-written "main character shows up to a new place and meets everyone" character introduction scenes

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[silent-partner-412]

i beat 13 sentinels aegis rim and it really lived up to the hype honestly that game went fucking CRAZY

the lore and storytelling methods combined with a rich cast of characters AND there were gay ppl in it like how much more could i ask for

[pandapetals]

The Glasses Stay On

Summary: A quiet evening turns into something far steamier when Joel catches you teasing him while he's wearing those damn glasses he swore he didn’t need.

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Content warnings: smut, no plot, joel keeps the glasses on, blowjob, face riding, pet names, no y/n used, established relationship, teasing, banter, not proofread

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics. i am feeling feral after seeing joel in glasses. it's my first time writing oral sex (blowjob) so...hopefully it's good? also inspired by elliespuns answer on joel asking for eye contact when he eats you out.

All thoughts scattered the moment you stepped through the door.

Joel sat at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched, sleeves shoved to his elbows. He didn’t look up, too focused on the mess of metal and wire in front of him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his lower lip was caught slightly between his teeth.

But it wasn’t the project that caught your attention.

It was the glasses.

Thin, silver-framed and slightly crooked—he always refused to wear them around you, brushing off your teasing with a stubborn, "Don’t need ‘em." But here he was, home alone, caught in the act. A quiet, unguarded moment. And for some reason, it hit you low and warm.

His hands moved with surprising precision, thick fingers maneuvering the pliers with rough delicacy that made your mouth go dry. The edge of his brown jacket was rolled to the midpoint of his forearms, a smear of grease trailing across one vein-lined wrist. He looked like something out of a dream you didn’t realize you’d been having.

You didn’t mean to stare. You certainly didn’t mean to feel like this—heart kicking up, thighs pressing together before you even crossed the room.

Your bag hit the floor with a soft thud. Shoes were toed off. You padded closer, heat rising up your neck.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” you teased, voice lighter than you felt. Your smile curled slowly, eyes drinking him in.

Joel let out a low grunt, not lifting his head. “Don’t start.”

You chuckled under your breath, stopping beside the table. “But you look so cute,” you cooed, hand reaching out before you could stop yourself. Your fingers brushed his jaw, gentle but insistently coaxing his chin up.

He finally looked at you, his eyes slowly lifting just above the rim of his glasses. They were darker now, narrowed beneath furrowed brows, unreadable… but there was something there. A flicker. A tension. Heat coiled low in your belly at the sight of it.

His voice was low and hoarse, scraping at your spine like sandpaper. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “don’t distract me.”

Your lips parted, breath catching how he said it—gritty, quiet, like a warning—only made your pulse faster.

“Me?” you whispered, placing a hand against your chest with exaggerated innocence. “Distract you? Never.”

Joel huffed a soft laugh through his nose, shaking his head, but his hand faltered slightly as he adjusted the wire he was working on. You saw it—the smallest stutter in his movement. Not much. Just enough to know he wasn’t unaffected.

You stepped closer, just enough for your knee to brush the edge of his thigh under the table. His hand stilled completely.

He didn’t look up this time. Just exhaled slowly through his nose, nostrils flaring. A vein in his forearm twitched, like he was holding something back.

God, he was so handsome like this—jaw tight, lips pressed in a firm line, glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose. His shirt clung in places from the house's heat, damp at the collar. One more minute of watching him like this and you would lose it.

Your voice dropped, barely above a hum. “You know,” you said, tilting your head, “if this is what you look like when you’re focused, I might have to start leaving you little projects more often.”

He froze for a beat. Then slowly, he set the pliers down with a quiet clink.

Joel turned in his chair, eyes dragging up your body—deliberate, slow, heat simmering behind his stare. He pushed his glasses up with one finger, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You keep talkin’ like that,” he muttered, “and you’re gonna find yourself bent over this table ‘fore I even finish fixin’ this damn thing.”

You shook your head slowly, lips curling into a wicked little smirk. Then, without breaking eye contact, you sank to your knees between his legs.

“I’ve got other plans,” you murmured, voice silk-soft, threaded with heat.

Your hands found his knees first—broad, warm, solid beneath your palms. You slid them upward, slow and teasing, feeling the muscle tense beneath your touch as you traced the line of his thighs.

Joel’s breath hitched. Barely audible, but you caught it.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice gone gravel-deep. His hands flexed where they rested on the edge of the table. “You ain’t gotta do that, honey.”

He said it like a protest, but there was no weight behind it—no real resistance, just that familiar Joel reluctance, that soft spot he tried to hide behind rough hands and gruff words.

“I want to,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. Your fingers were already at the button of his jeans, popping it open with practiced ease. “You just keep working.”

You winked, dragging the zipper down slowly. The rasp of metal filled the quiet space between you, and you felt the way his thighs tightened beneath your touch—his whole body coiled like a live wire.

Joel cursed again, one hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose, half in disbelief, half trying to hold himself together. But his hips shifted, just slightly, a silent surrender.

He still hadn’t looked down at you.

The challenge of it made your pulse race.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss just above the waistband of his boxers, your lips lingering against the warm skin.

Joel’s breath came sharp through his nose.

“Keep your hands steady, handsome,” you whispered, your voice low and playful. “Don’t want you messing up that wiring.”

His answer came through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You weren’t in a rush.

You wanted to savor this—to savor him. Every slow, deliberate motion was part of the tease, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans and dragging them down inch by inch. The fabric scraped rough against your knuckles, and you could feel the heat radiating off his skin before you even reached him.

Joel’s breath came unevenly, his hands gripping the table's edge hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

When his boxers followed, his cock sprang free—already half-hard, heavy, and twitching slightly in the cool air. You let your eyes linger on him, licking your lips without shame. Then you wrapped your fingers around him, dragging your fist down the thick length once… twice…

Joel groaned, deep and guttural. His hips jerked forward against your hand like his body was acting on instinct, chasing more.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your strokes lazy, teasing. Just enough to drive him mad. You were in control now, and he was already starting to unravel.

“Fuck,” he hissed, head falling back slightly, jaw clenched tight. “You’re gonna kill me.”

A smile tugged at your lips. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath the head, then another to the base, watching the muscles in his thighs tense and flex beneath your touch.

You adored him like this.

Unraveling. Wordless. Tension bleeding out of that tightly-wound body because of you.

You dragged your mouth up the length of him, slow as sin, your breath hot and heavy against his skin. Joel’s hand shot out, fingers curling tight into your hair, but he didn’t push—just held, like he needed the anchor.

“I love watchin’ you fall apart for me,” you whispered against him, lips brushing the sensitive ridge.

Joel finally looked down at you, eyes dark and glassy, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven pulls like he’d just fought his way through a storm.

“Jesus,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The words hit you low and deep, lighting something hot inside your belly. You beamed at him, lips parting in a slow, satisfied smile because you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Knew he could barely hold himself together.

You leaned in and finally took him into your mouth without breaking eye contact.

The warm and heavy taste of him on your tongue made your thighs press together. You kept the pace gentle at first, hollowing your cheeks just enough, letting your lips glide over the sensitive skin as you drew him in.

Joel groaned—deep and rough—and his hips shifted, his body fighting to stay still. One of his hands was still tangled in your hair, not pulling, just holding like he didn’t trust himself not to lose control.

You hummed around him, loving how he twitched against your tongue in response. His breath stuttered. Another soft sound escaped him—a whimper, barely audible, but it sent a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

God, you lived for this. Watching Joel come undone, letting you see the cracks in that hard exterior. Every ragged breath, every broken sound, was a gift—a secret he gave only to you.

Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging in for leverage as you took him deeper, the stretch making your eyes water just slightly, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You wanted all of him. Needed it.

His voice came out strangled, wrecked, and desperate. “Fuck—sweetheart, you keep goin’ like that, I ain’t gonna last.”

You pulled back just enough to breathe, letting your tongue flick against the tip before sinking again, taking him deeper this time, allowing your throat to relax as far as you could. His hips bucked, involuntary, a hiss tearing from between his clenched teeth.

Your hands smoothed up his stomach beneath his shirt, feeling his belly tensed under your touch. You could feel it—how close he was—the tremble in his thighs, the low groan vibrating in his chest, the way his fingers gripped your hair like he was hanging on by a thread.

You looked up at him again, eyes wet, lips swollen, mouth full of him, and smiled the best you could.

You wanted him to come apart. To feel it. To lose himself in you.

Joel’s voice cracked low and rough above you. “That’s it, darlin’... fuck.”

His hips jerked, shallow and restrained at first, but then a little deeper and needier. He was trying to hold back, trying not to thrust too hard, but his control was fraying with every flick of your tongue, every slow pull of your mouth.

You let him. 

You welcomed the way he started to fuck into your mouth, hips rolling forward in time with the wet slide of your lips. He was breathing hard now, one hand clenched in your hair, the other braced on the table behind him—his whole body taut, vibrating with the effort of staying upright.

“Shit—sweetheart, I’m—I’m not gonna last,” he gritted out, voice low and broken. “Fuck, you feel too good…”

Your hands smoothed under his shirt again, fingertips brushing his stomach, feeling how it flexed under your touch. You moaned around him, soft and encouraging, and that was it—that did it.

Joel’s breath hitched, his thighs tensed beneath your hands.

“Fuck—fuck,” he choked, voice strangled as his hips snapped forward one last time, his release hitting hard and fast. You felt the twitch of him on your tongue, the warmth spilling into your mouth as he gasped your name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You didn’t pull away. You took every bit of it, swallowing around him lazily, like you had all the time in the world.

When you finally drew back, a thin string of spit still connected your lips to the head of his cock. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, blinking up at him with that same wicked smile.

“You’re trouble,” Joel rasped, still catching his breath, voice thick and rough like gravel. “Sweet, dangerous fuckin’ trouble.”

You tilted your head, eyes flicking up to where his glasses had slipped slightly down his nose with a slow, satisfied smile. Your fingers gliding down the inside of his thighs, just to feel the aftershocks still buzzing beneath his skin. He was flushed and sweaty, chest rising and falling, shirt clinging to him in all the right places. The sight of him like this—flushed, undone, still wearing those damn glasses—made your smirk deepen.

“You should wear your glasses more often,” you teased, dragging your nails lightly along his thigh. “Kinda makes you look like a professor with a filthy mouth.”

Joel huffed out a weak laugh, head tipping back against the chair with a groan.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “You just about killed me and now you’re lookin’ to finish the job.”

You pushed yourself up between his knees slowly, hands braced on his thighs as you leaned in so close your breath tickled the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, I haven’t even started yet,” you whispered, lips brushing barely against his.

His hand came up to cup the side of your neck, thumb stroking slow against your jaw. The heat in his gaze had shifted, less wrecked, more focused. Grounded. Dangerous in a different way.

“Is that so?” he murmured, voice still low but steadying, a challenge creeping back in. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”

You opened your mouth to protest—to tell Joel he didn’t have to, that he could sit back down and finish whatever project had his attention before you rudely distracted him.

But then he gave you that look.

That smirk. That slow, knowing curl of his mouth paired with eyes that dragged over your body like he was undressing you.

“Don’t act like you don’t want me to make you feel good, sweet girl,” he murmured, voice all gravel and heat.

His words alone sent a spark straight through you—low, heavy, and impossible to ignore. Your thighs pressed together, the aftershocks of your earlier teasing still lingering between them.

“Joel, you don’t—”

He didn’t let you finish.

Instead, he stood up, towering over you, then bent just enough to hook his arms around your waist. You let out a startled laugh as he lifted you clean off the ground and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Joel!” you squealed, half laughing and breathless, but your protest died when your eyes landed on the sight before you—his ass—still exposed from where you’d dragged his jeans down earlier.

You grinned, biting your lip, but the amusement twisted into something hotter the moment Joel’s palm came down in a firm, playful smack against the curve of your ass.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, voice low, barely above a rumble. You could feel it against your stomach where your body pressed against his.

Then, almost to himself, more thoughtful than teasing. “What should I do for you, honey…”

You shivered at the question—not because you didn’t have answers, but because it came out like a promise. Like he wasn’t just thinking about giving you pleasure—he was planning it. Mapping it out in that careful, deliberate way, Joel did everything.

As he carried you toward the bedroom, your fingers curled into the hem of his jacket, nails scraping lightly against his lower back.

“You’re such a caveman,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed. But your voice came out breathy, wrecked with anticipation.

Joel chuckled, one hand sliding up to grip your thigh.

“Yeah, but you like it when I drag you off like this,” he said, shouldering the bedroom door open. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you smiled when I smacked your ass.”

He dropped you onto the bed with a gentle thud, your back hitting the mattress and bouncing slightly. Before you could sit up, he crawled over you, glasses still somehow on, those eyes burning into yours like you were the only thing he wanted to see in the world.

“Now,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-growl as he kissed a slow path down your neck, “lemme return the favor.”

Joel undressed you in a blur of rough hands and reverent kisses—fingers tugging at fabric, mouth tracing the skin he exposed, piece by piece. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t waste time either, like he couldn’t stand the thought of you being covered for a second longer than necessary.

By the time you were bare beneath him, chest rising and falling with anticipation, his touch softened—thumb and forefinger teasing your nipples with slow, deliberate rolls that had you gasping beneath him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes drinking you like something sacred. Then he dipped lower, kissing a slow, open-mouthed path down your stomach, dragging his stubble just enough to make you squirm.

You braced for it—for him to settle between your thighs, but instead, Joel pulled back.

You blinked, breath caught in your throat as he stripped out of his jacket and shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the sweat-slick heat of him. Then, with surprising ease, he lay flat on his back and shifted you with him, guiding your thighs to straddle his chest, then higher, until you were hovering above his face.

“Joel,” you said, half-breathless. “What are you—? I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

He smirked, brow arched, the picture of smug, ruined perfection beneath you.

“I am, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice a gravelly promise. His hands gripped your hips, firm and possessive, and dragged you up a little higher until your knees were planted on either side of his head, your pussy just inches above his mouth. “You like riding so much…” His gaze flicked up, hot and hungry. “So ride my face.”

Your breath caught, stolen clean out of your chest.

You let out a quiet, stunned laugh, but it faltered when you met his eyes. He wasn’t joking. There was no teasing in his expression now—just heat, need, and the kind of patience that made your stomach flip.

“Joel,” you breathed, your voice trembling, your fingers curling into his hair for balance.

You’d done this before, but never like this. Never with him lay out like a man ready to worship. His hands coaxing you down, his mouth open, waiting, like he was the lucky one.

And fuck… maybe he was.

In this moment, as his grip tightened and he pulled you gently down to his lips, you felt like you were the one about to be worshipped.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he said, voice low and reverent as his breath ghosted over your skin. “Don’t be shy now. Let me taste you.”

You leaned down slightly, breath hitching as you reached for the bridge of his glasses, fingertips brushing the metal.

Joel gently batted your hand away, his voice low and commanding, but soft around the edges.

“Nah,” he murmured, eyes locking with yours beneath the lenses. “I wanna see you. Wanna see how pretty you look when you come.”

The words landed like a punch to your gut—hot and heavy, straight between your thighs. Your body tensed in response, breath stalling in your chest. The idea of him watching—really watching—every twitch, every gasp, every moment of you falling apart on top of him?

It short-circuited your brain.

You barely had time to respond—no witty retort, no teasing comeback—before Joel’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin in that possessive way he always touched you when his restraint started to slip.

And then he pulled you down onto his mouth.

You gasped loudly, the sound ripping from your throat as your hips met his face. His tongue was already there, already moving, hot and slow and devastating between your folds.

Your hands flew forward, scrambling until you found the headboard. Gripping it like a lifeline, your thighs trembled on either side of his head.

“Joel—” you choked out, but it was barely a sound.

He groaned into you in response, the vibration making your spine arch. His hands slid from your hips to your ass, holding you in place, guiding your movement—urging you to grind against his mouth.

He wanted you to ride. Wanted to feel it. Wanted to watch every second through those damn glasses like it was his favorite view in the world.

You looked down and nearly fell apart again.

Joel’s eyes were open, locked on yours—dark and intent, his lashes damp with sweat, the lower half of his face already glistening. He looked wrecked and entirely in control all at once.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, rolling your hips without meaning to, chasing the pressure, the friction of his tongue dragging through your slick.

He groaned again, his grip flexing, his mouth working you with purpose now—slow circles, firm flicks, sucking gently on your clit before diving back in with messy, open-mouthed hunger.

You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Joel didn’t stop or even blink as he kept watching you. 

“Joel… oh, fuck, right there—” you moaned, voice cracking as your fingers dug harder into the headboard, knuckles white with the effort to stay grounded.

He didn’t let up.

Joel’s mouth moved with deliberate, devastating precision—his tongue lapping over your clit in slow, firm strokes, just the way he knew would push you over the edge. Every flick, every pull of his lips sent shocks through you, your thighs trembling where they bracketed his face.

He was relentless. His hands gripping your ass, holding you down against his mouth as if he knew you were close, as if he could feel it in the way your body started to twitch, to quake. His stubble scraped deliciously along your inner thighs, raw and unfiltered, the kind of burn you’d crave after it was over.

You were sweating, skin flushed and damp, the air thick and heavy around you. Every nerve felt on fire. Your back arching, hips rocking helplessly against him, chasing every bit of friction his mouth offered.

Your head tipped forward, forehead pressing against the cool wood of the headboard as the tension inside you twisted tighter and tighter, impossible to contain.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice barely recognizable—hoarse, wrecked. “Joel, please—right there, don’t stop—”

He groaned beneath you, the sound sending another ripple of heat through your core. One of his hands slid between your legs, two fingers slipping inside you with ease—thick, perfect, curling just right as his mouth stayed locked on your clit.

The sensation shattered you.

Your entire body seized, hips jerking forward as the orgasm slammed into you. A cry tore from your throat, as wave after wave rolled through you, pleasure sparking like electricity from your core to your fingertips.

Joel didn’t stop.

He kept working you through it, drawing out every last twitch, every helpless moan, until your legs went weak and your grip on the headboard loosened.

When you finally opened your eyes, panting and dazed, Joel was still beneath you—his lips wet, beard damp, and those goddamn glasses still on as he looked up at you like you were his favorite sin.

“Pretty when you beg,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.

You took a shaky breath, your body still trembling with the echoes of release as Joel guided you down onto the bed. His movements were deliberate. He hovered for a second, eyes scanning your face, like he needed to make sure you were still there, still okay.

You were. You just felt like you’d melted into the mattress.

His hands smoothed over your hips, then your thighs, grounding you with his touch. You could feel how gentle and attuned he was to every little shiver running through you. Like he didn’t just want to hold you—he wanted to protect whatever fragile thing had bloomed between you in that moment.

“So goddamn pretty,” Joel murmured, voice hoarse and low as he leaned down to kiss you.

The kiss was soft and slow. You could taste yourself on his lips, the faintest salty-sweet tang, and instead of embarrassment, it only made your stomach flip again.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, curling into the damp hair at his nape, stroking gently. His weight was warm above you, comforting, and you let yourself sink into the feeling of him, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

When he pulled back, you caught sight of his glasses, still clinging to his face, slightly fogged from the heat radiating between your bodies.

You blinked, then let out a soft laugh.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, reaching up to nudge them crooked on his nose. “I think I bent your glasses.”

Joel gave you that slow, lazy smirk, eyes still dark with the afterglow.

“Worth it,” he murmured.

He peeled them off with one hand and set them aside on the nightstand, not bothering to look at the damage. Then he rolled onto his side, tugging you until your head rested against his chest, one of his arms wrapped tightly around your back.

He kissed the top of your head, his scruff scratching lightly against your scalp.

“Y’alright?” he murmured into your hair, voice softened now, more Joel than ever.

You nodded, pressing your nose to his skin and breathing him in.

“Better than alright,” you whispered.

He hummed low in his throat, content and quiet, fingertips tracing lazy circles along your spine like he never wanted to let you go.

[bywons]

AFTER THE STORM ✿ 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬────𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋

❪ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝒾𝐒 ❫ ｡ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 1496wc 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 ✿ 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 贅沢 ／ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄

★REBLOG4KISS

LEE HEESEUNG

“so, you won’t talk to me at all?” heeseung pouts, staring at your back as you sit away from him on the couch, busy on some magazines. you flip through a page, the glossy sound a poor cover for the ache in your heart.

he sighs soft and slow, you hear the rustle of his socks against the carpet as he inches closer.

“y/n…” heeseung’s voice cracks as he calls out your name like a prayer, “i didn’t mean to lash out. i was angry— no, i was dumb. and i hurt you, i know.”

you stiffen, his words cutting deeper through you than he intended. heeseung notices.

he walks around, kneeling in front of you on the couch as his warm palms make contact with your knees, which pulls a gasp out of you. his eyes search your face—eyes rimmed with regret, his brows drawn together. “please look at me.”

your lips tremble, “you said that i make everything harder. that i’m exhausting.”

heeseung’s face crumples, heart beating faster in his ears as he feels his throat going dry, “i didn’t mean it. i was overwhelmed, but that doesn’t excuse anything.” he rests his forehead on your lap. “i love you. even when things are messy. especially then.”

you hesitate. then slowly tread your fingers through his hair. his grip around your waist tightens, “i’m never letting you go.”

PARK JONGSEONG

jay makes sure his footsteps are soft enough as he enters the kitchen like a cat— sneaking up behind you and wrapping your waist with his hands, his head resting on your shoulders.

“jay, what—” you gasp at his suddenness, pausing all your actions, “let go jay, i’m working.”

“i could help,” he whispers softly against your neck, lips warm on your skin, “tell you that i’m sorry?”

you lean into his touch involuntarily, his hair tickling your cheeks, “you always do this.”

“and i mean it everytime,” jay sighs. he guides your own hands as he holds them in his, slowly slicing the apples on the counter. “i’m sorry, darling. i meant none of it, i was just tired and well, i was being a jerk.”

you breathe in the sight, it’s impossible to stay angry at park jongseong. “and what if i’m still not impressed?”

jay laughs, sending a sweet vibration through your body as he presses soft kisses along your shoulders and neck, upto your jaw.

“then i’ll keep apologizing,” he murmurs, nuzzling closer, “until you are.”

you turn your head slightly, lips brushing his in the softest kiss, lingering.

“you’re such a menace,” you whisper.

“your menace,” jay smiles against your mouth, arms never letting go, the fruit knife long forgotten.

SIM JAEYUN

you glance at the collection of tulips,.baby breath, roses and what not. bouquets on your desk, on the bed, even a trail leading to where he stands.

“what is all this?” you ask, crossing your arms, your brows furrowed, refusing to let the flowers soften you just yet, “you think flowers can fix however you acted last night?”

jake shifts in his place, clearly uncomfortable of his behaviour. slowly, he takes a step towards you, “no, of course not. but i was afraid of approaching you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to ignore his pleading eyes and your favourite flowers laid out in front of you.

he swiftly picks up a single red rose from a bunch, and towers in front of you in no time. you don’t dare to look at him, and he prays to the universe that you do.

jake slowly gets down on one knee, holding the rose out to you with both hands like it’s everything he has.

“i messed up,” he murmurs, gaze unwavering. “but i swear, i’ll never let my temper speak louder than my love for you again.”

your breath hitches. he offers the rose gently. “please… just don’t walk away from me.”

you take the rose, eyes finally meeting his—and in that quiet beat, he stands up, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.

“i’m still mad,” you whisper.

he smiles. “i know.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon inches closer to you as the bed dips under his weight, waking you up.

“why- why are you here?” you groan in your drowsy state, hair disheveled as you look at sunghoon next to you— eyes puffy, lips swollen with a tired smile playing on it.

he was crying. “i couldn’t sleep,” he confesses, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears, “and… i missed you. come back to our bed?”

you sigh, heart softening at the sight of him—eyes red, voice fragile.

“hoon…” you whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye. “don’t cry.”

“i messed up,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. “i said awful things. i hate myself for it.”

you shift closer, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him down beside you. “you’re here now,” you whisper, forehead pressing to his. “we’re okay.”

he exhales shakily, arms curling around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers again, lips brushing your skin as he holds you tight. prepping kisses all over as he traces shapes on your back, “i’m so sorry, princess. i love you, so so much.”

KIM SUNOO

“but you don’t like chocolate,” you murmur softly as you pick around the ice cream with your spoon.

“anything for you,” sunoo says, giving you a smile which was both nervous and hopeful, “i think i deserve this punishment.” he takes a bite out of his own chocolate ice cream.

he scoops a bite of his chocolate ice cream and eats it, face scrunching immediately at the bitterness.

you try to suppress your laughter, but it comes out anyways as you punch his forearm, “sunoo! you don’t have to suffer through chocolate for me—”

“oh, no,” sunoo scoffs, pulling the bowl of chocolate closer to him in desperation, “i made you angry and…called you mean, i deserve this.”

you stifle a laugh. “you look like you’re in pain.”

“i am,” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “but i’d rather eat a hundred bowls of this than go another minute with you mad at me.”

you set your spoon down and reach for his hand across the table. “you don’t need to suffer through chocolate, dummy. you just need to be honest with me next time.”

his fingers curl around yours, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“deal,” he whispers, leaning in to gently kiss your knuckles.

YANG JUNGWON

“i can’t stand you crying,” jungwon gulps, his own throat aching as he notices your tear-stricken cheeks. “drink some water, please?”

you sniffle, taking the water bottle from him as he sits down beside you. “can i touch you?”

you want to say no after the argument you had with him, after he made you sob on your own. but god, it’s the way he never lets you go through anything alone, and it's the way he notices everything— melts your heart every time.

“yes,” you whisper.

jungwon sighs out of relief, not wasting a second before he pulls you into his lap, surprising you, as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, barely louder than the hum of your shaky breaths. “i should’ve listened. i should’ve stayed.”

you stay quiet, the comfort of his hold unraveling the tight knot in your chest.

“i hate that i made you cry,” he whispers, arms tightening slightly around your waist. “i know sorry isn’t enough, but... i’ll make it right. just don’t shut me out, please.”

his voice cracks at the end, and you turn your head slightly, just enough to see the sorrow in his eyes.

your lips meet his in a soft, trembling kiss—slow, searching, tender. his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing a tear away as he kisses you again, like a silent vow.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“the punching bag didn’t upset you, did it?” riki gets startled by your words, turning quickly on his heels to meet you.

“y/n?” he whispers, almost running towards you as he towers over your nervous and disturbed figure. “are you finally… not mad at me?”

you huff, hesitating to touch him. “if i didn’t come to you, all this useless boxing would go on forever.”

riki knows that. he hates himself the most when you’re mad at him, and finds his solace in overworking himself. “do you..still hate me?” his voice cracks.

“no, riki. we solved it already,” you give in and cup his face, “we were both messed up and, i forgot about it. i let it go.”

riki leans into your touch, walking closer as he kisses the corner of your lips. once, twice and then you lose count as he pulls you in by the waist. “i’m still sorry though,” he whispers, voice full of guilt, “let me make it up to you, doll?”

스루 ܃ couldn’t sleep, so i locked in for this. heh .. can’t have sru nation starving 💌

© bywons, 2025 div ctto —taglist open ! nets. @/k-labels @kflixnet @k-films

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. 

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption  my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!���

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

[agreeewrites]

Best Friends Brother ⊹ . + °

feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

summary: You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

cw: MDNI 18+ smut with basically zero plot. charlie has an absolutely filthy mouth. no war (or light war? idk, everyone is alive)

an: this was supposed to be a casual hook up when I initially planned it, but the dick was so good they fell in love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part two | masterlist

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Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had a line around the building, hopeful witches and wizards desperate to get a glimpse of the Weasley twin’s newest product. You strolled past them in your mini dress and tights, more than a little chuffed by their jealous glares.

The doors were locked, blocked off with enchanted rope, but when Fred spotted you through the window, he ran to unlock the doors.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Georgie, looks who’s here!” Fred slung an arm over your shoulders and ushered you into the store. It was the cleanest you’d ever seen it, with streamers and lights strung everywhere, and a long table loaded with food and drink.

“Y/n!” George shouted, popping up from behind the register. Both of them were dressed in freshly pressed brown suits, looking exceptionally dapper. He came aroud the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Thanks for coming out.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you grinned up at them, pride filling your chest. You’d been close with the twins for years, a friendship that started in school and only grew in adulthood, since you worked a few doors down at Honeydukes.

“Come, you have to meet our family!” They ushered you upstairs, where a dozen or so people waited, several faces were familiar, some were not.

“You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny,” George said, and you greeted them all with a wave.

“And our parents, Molly and Arthur,” Fred continued.

“Oh, y/n! How lovely to see you!” Molly cooed, pulling you into a rib-cracking hug. “My, what a beautiful young lady you’ve grown into.” She pinched you cheek, and heat scorched your face.

“And this is our older brother’s Percy, Charlie, and Bill. And Bill’s wife, Fleur.”

You turned to the trio of men hovering by the bookcases, and nearly tripped over your heels. Percy, you remembered from school, Fleur as well, and Bill was too busy gazing down at her blonde head to glance your way. But Charlie. He stared straight through you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole.

“Pleasure,” Charlie said, his voice honeyed and deep. He was shorter that Percy beside him, but muscular enough that the maroon blazer he wore seemed a little stretched at the shoulders. His white button down shirt beneath it was tailored perfectly to fit across his wide chest and taper at his defined waist. Freckles kissed his cheeks and forehead, his skin a shade tanner than his siblings, though he shared their ginger hair, mid-length and wavy.

“Hello,” you managed, giving him a small smile. But before you could engage further, George whisked you away.

“It’s tiiiime!” Fred shouted, waving his wand, and the doors burst open.

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As the event raged on, you found yourself drawn to Charlie’s orbit, watching as he mingled with guests and chatted with his family. He seemed to draw a lot of attention, what with his rugged good looks and the fact that he was a dragon trainer. It seemed everyone wanted a sliver of Charlie Weasley’s attention.

So you admired him from a far, and tried to help Fred and George as best you could.

You chatted with customers, explaining the new product the best you could, but you kept feeling the tug of someone’s attention at the nape of your neck, distracting you. When the customer finally moved on, you glanced towards the direction of the feeling, and caught Charlie watching you over the rim of his fire whiskey, ignoring the gentleman attempting to talk to him entirely.

The air froze in your lungs, you heart tripping over itself. His gaze was scorching, and if looks could burn…you were certain your clothes would be rendered to ash.

Desire pooled in your lower belly, heating your blood to an uncomfortable degree. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, you missed George approach.

“Hey, y/n, enjoying yourself?” He asked, offering you a glass of champagne with a candy snitch floating in it.

You accepted with a smile. “I am, thank you. You guys have done an incredible job.”

George beamed, clinking your glasses together before loping off to sell to another customer.

“So, how long have you known my brothers?” A low voice murmured in your ear, and you whirled around, nearly spilling champagne all over Charlie’s front. He caught your elbow with a steady hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Easy, love,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Oh, uh, f-five years? I think,” you stuttered, looking anywhere but his smoldering eyes.

“Then how have we never met? I’d certainly remember you.”

You shrugged a shoulder, taking what you hoped was a casual sip of wine. “Seems you haven’t been paying much attention,” you teased, finally meeting his eyes.

His smirk grew into a soft smile. “What a grave error on my part.”

“Are you in town for the event, or…?” You could feel heat climbing up your neck, but you willed yourself to keep a level head. You knew how to flirt, had done so with plenty of blokes in your time, but none as handsome and disarming as Charlie.

“I thought so, but evidently the Gods had other ideas.”

You knees nearly buckled. “Like?” You coyly tilted your head, allowing your eyes to trail across his broad shoulders, down his chest. Was this guy seriously flirting with you? You knew you weren’t unattractive, but Charlie was…phew.

“Like…” He flushed a little, betraying his suave demeanor, and your heart slipped a little further into his hands. “Meeting the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Ever?” You teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

“In this life and probably the next.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting his eyes wander over you the same way yours did him. And based on the way they darkened, his pupils widening just a fraction, he liked what he saw as much as you did.

“Does that line always work for you?”

“Well, considering I’ve never tried it, why don’t you tell me?”

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

Charlie slammed the door shut behind you before crowding you against it, his lips colliding with yours. He tasted like whiskey and pumpkin, with a tinge of cigarette smoke that went straight to your head, and you eagerly tangled your tongue with his, pushing his blazer off his shoulders.

“Colloportus,” he murmured against your mouth, and you heard the lock schick into place. He shrugged his blazer off, tossing it somewhere in the dark storage closet, and his hands were on you again, one sliding into your hair, the other on your lower back, drawing you closer.

“Charlie?” You gasped as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his short beard a rough contrast to the suppleness of his kiss.

“Yeah, honey?” he panted, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“I don’t usually…” you trailed off, nerves suddenly closing your throat.

His hand slid from your hair to cup your cheek, his callouses rough against your heated skin. “Me neither,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “We can do whatever you want, love. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurant in London, or on Dragon-back to the Swiss Alps, or on a cruise ship to the Americas—”

You cut him off with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. “And if I want you to fuck me?” you said between pecks, tugging at the roots of his hair.

He smiled and scooped you up by the meat of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your skirt pushed up over your hips. “Then I’ll fuck you as often as ya’ like.” He turned and dropped you onto some kind of work bench, sending the papers and junk flying with a sweep of his arm.

“The twin’s are going to be pissed,” you giggled, leaning back onto the wood so he could continue his previous assault on your neck.

“Fuck ‘em,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbones. His hands gripped your thighs with dizzying strength, the same hands that handled massive, fire-breathing beasts, and spread you open for his hungry gaze. “Seven fucking hells,” he breathed, running his hands down your inner thighs. “You’re perfect.”

In a swift motion, he ripped your tights at the seam, the sound sending a pulse of arousal to your already dripping pussy, a sharp gasp forcing it’s way from your throat. His fingers glided over your wet panties, so delicate compared to the force he’d used heartbeat before.

Your hips lifted slightly, chasing his gentle touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this desperate for someone to touch you, your entire body tuned to his every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He looked so fucking good leaning over you, his previously tidy shirt rumpled, his hair in copper waves around his face, his lips a little red from your fevered kisses.

With his ring finger, her drew your panties to the side, his middle fingers gliding through your slit and circling your clit twice. “Already so wet for me, honey. What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Your brain couldn’t formulate a response, his touch mind-numbing. Pleasure radiated form his fingers, syrupy and languid, with none of the frenetic energy from before. A moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he coaxed your pussy to bloom for him.

“And such pretty sounds.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve with his free hand, exposing the muscles and veins along his thick forearm. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, large enough to stretch you slightly.

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whined, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could watch him play with you.

“I suppose I shouldn’t stretch this out too long, someone might come looking for us,” he mused. “But I could spend a fucking eternity spoiling this greedy little pussy.” He slipped another finger into you channel, pumping them a few times just to feel your cunt suck him back in. “Would you like that, love?” He tilted your chin up with his free hand, an unspoken request for an answer.

“Y-yes, Charlie. Please,” you panted, stretching up to steal a quick peck. He deepened the kiss, shifting his weight to press you back down onto the desk as his tongue flirted with yours. His hand picked up the pace, fucking you steadily as he devoured your mouth, teeth skating along your swollen flesh before sucking lightly on your tongue.

You don’t know what God blessed him with such a skilled tongue, but you needed to make an offering in thanks stat.

But since you couldn’t do that…

“Charlie?” You asked, reaching around to touch his wrist between your legs.

He immediately stopped, withdrawing his hand completely. “What’s wrong?” He searched your face for signs of discomfort, his brows drawn together.

You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek before sliding off the desk. He watched you, confused and concerned, then you lowered yourself to your knees and his jaw went slack.

“Honey, you don’t have to—”

“Please, Charlie?” You batted your lashes up at him, tugging lightly on his belt.

“Merlin’s fucking—I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that, sweetheart.”

“Then don’t,” you teased, undoing his belt and zipper. You could see the outline of his cock against his black boxers, thick and throbbing as you glided your fingers over it.

He sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table with one of his hands. Encouraged, you dragged the flat of your tongue over the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the wetness collecting by the swollen head.

“I must have died in the dragon pit and gone to heaven. My god, woman,” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair to keep it from blocking the sight.

You giggled, licking a few more stripes before reaching up to free him. His cock sprung out, veiny and flushed pink. And, to your absolute shock and delight, even his cock was freckled.

“You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you praised, and his cheeks flushed pink. You laved your tongue along the thickest vein, earning a throaty groan. You sucked the head into your mouth, lapping up the precum pearling from his slit.

Charlie’s head fell back, one of his hands sliding into your hair. He didn’t add any pressure, just held you as you started to suck him, moving a little further down each time. You wrapped your hand around the base, there was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth, and started pumping him, matching the motions with your mouth. His skin was like velvet, soft and smooth, and you loved feeling him pulse against your tongue with every dip of your head.

“You are too damn good at that. So fucking pretty swallowing my cock.” His thumb stroked your cheek while he gazed down at you, stars in his eyes. “You like sucking me off, honey?”

You nodded as best you could, flicking your tongue at the groove just beneath the head. His hips lurched forward, a grunt escaping through his teeth.

“Fuck, sorry, love. I’m trying to stay still for ya’, but feels so fucking good.”

You reached up and guided his hand into your hair, then used it to push your head down, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He smirked, his hand fisting in your hair. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He started moving your head along his shaft, rocking his hips in time with the movements. He went easy at first, but as drool began to track down your chin, your eyes rolling back in bliss, he picked up the pace. But he only fucked your mouth for a few, punishing strokes before lifting you off of him. He slammed his mouth to yours, a harsh, hungry kiss that had you seeing stars.

You whined in protest, but he shushed you by lifting you into the air and setting you on the table once more.

“If you thought I wasn’t going to fuck you, you’re mad,” he gruffed, dragging the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips. “That is, if you still want me to?”

“Yes, fuck, now, Charlie. Please.” You spread your legs a little wider for him,

“Anything for you, love.” He leaned down and kissed you again, sliding his cock into your depths at the same time. The feeling of being filled by him bordered on divine, silken and hot. He was stretching you just enough to leave you with that delicious ache between your legs. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the sounds caught up by his tongue parting your lips and caressing yours.

He drew his hips back, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch of one another, before he slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. It seemed he was at the end of his control, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you hard, jostling the desk beneath you and making the shelves along the walls rock.

“Fuck, Charlie. Feels so good,” you cried, trying and failing to keep yourself quiet as he railed you, every thrust like a lightning strike of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah? You take my cock so well, baby. Wet little pussy squeezing the life outta’ me,” he groaned, his hair tickling your face. “So good f’me, honey. Like you were made for me.”

Your muscles tightened, veering closer and closer to your peak, his praise sending little pulses of bliss your clit.

“You like being praised, baby? Hearing how perfect you are for me? Fuck, I can feel how much you like that, squeezing me so hard.” His hand slipped between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tight circles over you puffy clit. “Come for me, y/n. I know you can. I want to feel you fall apart around me. That’s a good girl—”

Your cry drowned out his praise as your peak crashed over you, visceral and exquisite. The world vanished, blown apart by the burst of starlight in your chest as you came for him. Pulses of pleasure made your body shake and buck, your eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, honey. Such a good fucking girl. Merlin, you’re gonna make me come.” He rested on his forearms, braced on either side of your head, hitting an entirely new angle as you came back into your body.

“Charlie,” you whimpered, clinging to him. ”I’ve got ya’, love. Don’t worry. Just a little longer—fuck.” A strangled groan broke from his throat and you felt his cock swell, then kick against your walls, the first hot stream of release painting your insides.

He rested his head on your shoulder as he muscles trembled, his hips pressed flush to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders, still weak from that soul-shaking orgasm. His lips passed over your shoulder, your clavicle, up your neck, before finally ghosting of your lips, soft and breathless.

You remained like that for longer than you probably should have, enraptured with one another. You'd been complete strangers a few hours ago, but this wasn't a hook up akin to a one night stand. This was the reunification of two beings, the re-raveling of a soul tie.

“Y/n,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your temple. “Y/n, y/n, y/n…” He held you like he'd die if he let go.

“Charlie,” you exhaled, nuzzling behind his ear.

“Can I take you to Romania with me?” He whispered, a joke, you presumed, but there was no humor in his voice.

“I've never seen a dragon before—”

The door knob jiggled, and someone pressed against it, the wood groaning.

“Shit.” Charlie jumped backwards, scrambling to right your dress and smooth your hair.

“Hey, Freddie! This doors locked for some reason.”

“Charlie, your dick,” you snickered while he wiped away a smudge of your lipstick.

“Fuck, right.”

“Alohamor—”

“COLLOPORTUS,” Charlie barked out, snatching his wand from his boot.

“Charlie?” George called, knocking on the door.

Charlie tucked you behind him and undid the spell, peeking the door open. “If you say another word, you're dragon food,” he growled, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“You got a girl in there, mate?” George asked, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“George,” Charlie warned.

“Fine, fine. You've got ten minutes before I actually need to get in there.” George knocked once more then strode away, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

Charlie sagged against the door, exhaling. “I'm sorry, love,” he said, turning to you.

You pecked his cheek. “Don't be sorry, that was the best lay of my life.” You tried to reassure him, despite the curdling sadness in your chest.

A shy smile broke through his serious expression. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I can only imagine how good it would be when we had all the time in the world,” you murmured against his ear, a shiver rolling down his spine. It was better to leave it like this, flirty, casual, than with whatever…that was.

“I mean, we’ve got ten minutes…”

You patted his chest and slipped out of the door, finding George waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed.

His jaw dropped. “Y/n!”

Charlie ran out behind you. “I swear to God, George—”

“Are all Weasley's this dramatic?” You closed George's mouth with a finger under his chin.

“Where did—when did—how?” George stuttered, looking back and forth between the two of you.

Charlie smirked, shrugging back on his blazer. “I'll explain when you're older,” Charlie teased. “Would you like a drink, y/n?”

“I'd love one.“ You threaded your arm through his, and together returned to the party.

> Part Two

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Thanks for reading!

If you enjoyed, please check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[stillwatervoid]

Now nothing’s the same | Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Summary: You know it isn't your Mark the moment he steps into your room. The blood on his suit isn't his. The way he looks at you isn't right. The things he whispers aren't things your Mark would ever say. Yet, you let him stay. And more.

Pairing: Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, frottage, overstimulation, rimming (R receiving), belly bulging, unprotected sex, spit as lube.

Tags: any Mark variant, Reader is lowkey not okay, and he’s a virgin (so prob unrealistic sex?), Unrequited love (for original Mark), Top!Mark, Bottom!Reader.

w.c: 12.2k  |  a/n: English isn’t my first language. This is the first time I write smut so it probably sucks, but hey, I wrote 12k? How did that happen? Yikes… Feedback is appreciated—as longs as is respectful. Also, I wrote this with no particular Mark in mind, so feel free to imagine your favorite variant! The only exception is Mohawk Mark, since his unique hairstyle would immediately reveal he's not the mainstream version at the very beginning (unless you prefer to imagine the reader being dense and oblivious to that glaring detail...).I guess it doesn’t really matter. IMAGINE ANY MARK! And enjoy!!!

You're here | Part 2

Ever since the news broke about cities around the world being destroyed by multiple versions of Invincible, you’ve been hiding. It’s the only logical thing to do—for someone powerless like you, there’s nothing else to do. You can only wait for the nightmare to end, for the heroes to rise victorious. For Mark to rise victorious.

So you stay in your home, clutching your phone, waiting for something—anything—to change. A day passes, and Mark still hasn’t answered your messages. He’s busy, you tell yourself, burying your face in your pillow to stifle the ache in your chest. Of course he’s busy. How could he not be? His hands are full with the weight of the world on his shoulders—fighting, saving, surviving. The news keeps reporting on the Invincibles’ rampage, updating the world daily. A stupid text message—of course Mark doesn’t have time to reply.

(You try not to think about how Mark has been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasn’t looked at you the same. How you should’ve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. But you didn’t, and now nothing’s the same.)

So you wait, trapped within your four walls, your chest heavy with worry for your friends—your hero friends—who are out there risking their lives. You cling to the news like a lifeline, watching as the Invincibles tear through city after city, leaving thousands dead, all while they smile like it’s a game.

So you wait, and pray. Anxiety coils tight in your chest, pressing against your ribs until it feels like you might burst. But eventually, hunger forces you to move. You drag yourself to the kitchen, hands trembling as you fumble with the bread. You barely register the motion, your mind drifting to every terrible, unlikely scenario where Mark—your Mark—doesn’t make it. The thought alone makes your throat tighten.

It’s not good. You shouldn’t be this negative. But there are so many Invincibles, and if they’re anything like the Mark you know, then even the strongest heroes must be struggling. People will die. People you care about. And you try—God, you try—not to think about who, who, who.

Maybe that’s why you don’t hear him.

Not that there’s any particular sound to warn you. No footsteps, no creak of the floorboards. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of the curtains by the open window.

One second, your eyes are on the bread on the counter, and the next, an unexpected voice brushes against your ear.

“Found you,” he whispers.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you freeze, the knife slipping from your hand and clattering to the counter. Your breath hitches as you turn your head slowly.

(Vaguely, you think about Mark fussing over you like a mother hen, that familiar crease forming between his brows. “You really shouldn’t leave your window open like that,” he’d chide, voice laced with exasperation. “Anyone could get in.”

But you’d just laugh, brushing off his concern. “It’s a sixth floor, Mark. And you’re the only weirdo who does.”

I’ll always leave my window open for you, you wouldn’t say.

I’ll always be waiting for you to come, you couldn’t say.)

And then, there he is.

“Mark?” you breathe, relief crashing over you in an overwhelming wave. You don’t notice the differences—how his suit is wrong, smeared with fresh blood and viscera that drip onto your clean floor. How his eyes are too wide, too unblinking, something wild lurking behind them. You don’t see any of it. All you see is Mark standing there, safe, alive. “Oh my god, Mark.”

You rush to him without hesitation, arms outstretched, wrapping him up in a desperate embrace. You’ve been so worried, so consumed by the gnawing anxiety of losing him, that just hearing his voice, just seeing him, shatters any rational thought.

For a moment, he stiffens against you. But then, his arms lock around you with a force that nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s too tight, too much, an intensity Mark has never held you with before. That should have been your first warning. But as soon as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, you forget about everything that seems wrong. You forget about the blood, the wild look in his eyes, the way his grip feels almost possessive. All you can focus on is the way he inhales deeply, as if he’s been starved of this—of you.

You shudder, heart pounding for reasons you can’t quite explain, and then he sighs, low and satisfied, the sound vibrating against your skin.

(“You smell really good,” Mark would murmur, crowding into your space, his nose nearly brushing your neck as he inhaled deeply. “Like, really good.”

You’d shove at his chest, face flaming despite yourself. “Christ, Grayson, you’re not a dog. Back off.”

He’d laugh—that stupid, sunshine-bright laugh that always made your pulse stutter—and lean against the lockers with infuriating ease. “Just being honest… Hey, you could tell me what perfume you use. Maybe then Amber would actually like me on our next date.”

Your chest would tighten, eyebrows knitting together before you could stop them.

“Can’t help you there, pretty boy,” you’d say, slamming your locker shut harder than necessary. When he raised an eyebrow at you, you’d flash a razor-thin smile. “Turns out it’s natural. One hundred percent me.”) 

“It’s you…” Mark whispers, his lips brushing against your neck. You hold your breath, trying to suppress the goosebumps rising on your skin, but it’s futile. His voice is low, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He squeezes you tighter, his arms like steel bands around you. “Oh, it’s you.” 

“Mark?” you ask hesitantly, confusion laced in your voice. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

You try to push yourself away, hands pressing against his shoulders to create some space—because you can’t do this. You can’t handle him holding you like this, his voice hoarse and low against your neck, his breath hot enough to make you weak. You’re friends. Only friends. He’s made that much clear, and this—this isn’t fair.

But you barely manage to put a few inches between you before he whines, a sound so raw and desperate it catches you off guard. In an instant, he pulls you back in, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his grip unyielding.

“Mark?” you whisper again, voice trembling.

“Not yet,” he replies, his tone pleading. “Let me hold you one more minute.” 

And you don’t have the strength to refuse him.

Yet, as the seconds tick by and he keeps clinging to you like a child afraid to let go, you can’t help but notice the things you’ve been ignoring.

Why is Mark here? Why would he suddenly show up at your apartment when he’s supposed to be out there, saving the world? Why would Mark—the same Mark who’s been keeping you in this strange, distant limbo for weeks, who barely speaks to you beyond polite conversation, who’s been looking at you with a mix of discomfort, guilt, and something else you can’t quite place—be holding you so desperately right now?

Then your attention drifts to his clothes. His suit, but not really his suit. The blood—the thick, dark blood that, now that you’re truly paying attention, doesn’t belong to him. And it’s a lot, pooling around your feet, staining your floor, soaking your clothes.

A sickening weight settles in your stomach, curling, twisting, nagging at the back of your mind. Your arms go slightly limp around him, hesitation creeping in where relief had been just moments ago. Your brain, which had felt so light, so grateful just a minute ago at the sight of him safe, suddenly flashes back to the news. The destruction. The Invincibles terrorizing the world.

And you wonder.

Finally, he exhales—a slow, steady breath, like someone bracing themselves. Then, he lets go, his hands lingering on your arms as if he’s reluctant to break contact entirely.

“Y/N…” he whispers, a wide grin stretching across his face. It’s an unusual smile, unnatural, amused when it shouldn’t. “Here’s where you’ve been hiding, huh?”

“Hiding?” you ask, unsure. “Well—I can’t really do anything else, can I?”

Mark smiles spreads. But his eyes—there’s something in them you hadn’t noticed before. Wide, almost frantic, something raw burning behind them. The dark circles under them make him look exhausted. His hair is a mess. And yet, his expression softens as he studies you, gaze tracing over every feature like he’s trying to memorize you. It’s so intense, so intimate, it nearly steals your breath away.

“What—What are you doing here?” you ask, glancing away, flustered. “Is it—is it over? The fight?”

He coos, a gloveless hand reaching for your chin to tilt it back toward him with a grip that’s firm, almost possessive. “Oh, it’s over. There’s nothing to worry about anymore,” he says, voice light, too light, too nonchalant for someone who just came from a battle. Mark doesn’t speak like this after a fight—he’s never so casual, so detached.

(Mark’s hands would dig into his hair, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m just—I keep fucking up.”

“You’re not,” you’d tell him, hand pressing warm circles between his shoulder blades. “You save people, Mark. Every single day—”

“Bullshit!” He’d jerk upright so fast you’d recoil, chair screeching against the floor. “More people die than I save!” He’d pace, fingers twisting in his hair. “Stop—just stop telling me I’m not fucking up! Stop trying to—to make me feel better! You don’t understand how I feel!”

Your chest would tighten, fingers curling into empty air where he’d been. “I know I don’t.”

“Then stop!”

“However—” you’d stand up as well, eyes locking onto his as you caught his face in your hands, palms pressing gently against his cheeks. Mark would freeze, his breath hitching, wide eyes locked onto yours. “However, I know the world would be worse without you in it. Just thinking about the possibility of not having Invincible on our side—it scares me. Because you’re the only one strong enough to protect us. The only one who can stand up to the worst threats.”

Your thumb would brush over his cheekbone, touch impossibly gentle.

“And I’m sorry you have to carry that responsibility, Mark. But you’re not failing. Not to me.”

His expression would crumble, his eyes glistening with unshed tears before he’d pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder. His breath would shake, and you’d feel his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt.

Your cheeks would burn, heart stuttering, but you'd swallow your feelings and offer only the comfort a friend should.

“I’m sorry,” he’d murmur, voice thick. “I’m sorry.”

You’d breathe in, closing your eyes. “Don’t be.”)

Your cheeks burn as he tugs you closer by the chin, forcing you to look straight at him. Your hand instinctively reaches for his wrist, but you don’t pull away. You should. But you don’t. Yet, you can’t stand the weight of his stare, so intense, so close, it feels like it’s peeling back layers of you, exposing everything you’ve tried to suppress.

“Nothing to worry about?” you force the words out, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face and the fluttering sensation in your stomach. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he nods, his voice low and steady. Then, without warning, he leans closer again, his face burying into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply like he just couldn’t get enough. “Oh, shit. How I missed this.”

“Mark?” you ask quietly, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. His breath is hot and electric against your skin. The warmth blooming in your face spreads down, coiling through your body. “What are you doing? Jesus—this isn’t like you.”

“Oh, really?” he hums, lips ghosting over your pulse. The brush of them—so soft, so deliberate—makes you shudder. “Not even a little?”

“No…” you exhale, shivering when his arms snake around your waist, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm. “No. Mark. What—what are you doing?”

Your hands reach for the counter behind you, gripping the edge tightly, desperate for something to anchor you. But Mark—his scent, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his breath burning against the most sensitive part of your throat—makes it impossible to focus, impossible to think. It’s like everything around you is spinning, and you can’t make sense of any of it.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks, his tone amused and teasing, like this is all some game to him.

And that finally makes you scowl, the heat in your cheeks now burning with a mix of anger and humiliation. You inhale sharply, trying to regain your senses, but an ugly feeling of shame and hurt settles heavily in your chest.

You lift a hand and push him, or at least try to, your strength no match for his. Still, he complies, pulling away with a reluctant sigh, an annoyed expression flickering across his face as he finally tears himself from you.

“This isn’t funny, Mark,” you say, glancing away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. “Stop it.” 

“Stop what?” he complains, his fingers digging into your waist as if he’s reluctant to let you go entirely.

“That,” you snap, gripping his wrists and prying his hands off. “You can’t just—just ignore me for weeks and then suddenly show up and treat me this way. It’s—it messes with my head! It’s not fair, Mark!” your breath comes heavy, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to form the words. Your eyes drop to the floor, and you add quietly, “Just stop.” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you can feel his gaze burning into you, searching, analyzing. His head tilts slightly, as if he’s trying to piece something together.

“We’re not… together?” he asks after a beat, his voice incredulous, like the idea is absurd.

The question makes you flinch, and a fresh wave of anger surges through you.

(“I’m sorry,” Mark would mutter, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours. “I just—don’t see you that way.”

You’d glance away, your lips pressed together in a tight line, trying to hold back the sting of rejection. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s just—there’s someone else I wanna try it with.”

“I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you sigh, wanting Earth to swallow you whole and disappear forever. But this is Mark, and you couldn’t bear living without Mark. “We’re still friends, right? This doesn’t have to change anything.”

He’d smile at you, his eyes creasing at the edges in the way you adored. “Yeah—Friends!”)

“Of course not!” you snap, voice rising. “You made it very clear you—you love someone else!”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between you and his overwhelming presence. Was he mocking you? Playing some cruel joke?

But then again, as you pace around the kitchen, trying to hold yourself together, your eyes flicker to his odd suit, to the blood clinging to him, to the confused, almost baffled look on his face. And you think again—why is Mark here? Why, really?

Is he even Mark—

“But Y/N—” he whines, trailing after you like a lost puppy, his voice pleading, “—I would never, and I mean never look at anyone else but you!”

You frown, shaking your head. “I can’t even believe you’re saying this to me right now,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady. “Did you hit your head too hard fighting those lunatics?”

You don’t notice the way he tilts his head at your words, don’t catch the way his eyes darken, flashing with something unreadable.

“If you don’t have anything better to do, then just leave,” you huff, bitterness lacing your tone. “I don’t wanna—humiliate myself any more than I already have. You had your fun. So go away.”

You turn on your heel, heart pounding as you stride toward your bedroom where your phone is charging. There’s a gut feeling gnawing at you, a sensation you can’t shake, and you need confirmation. You need reassurance.

Is the Mark standing behind you even your Mark at all?

Your gut twists violently, but you can’t shake it. The second you step into your bedroom, your hand fishes for your phone, fingers trembling as you scroll through your contacts and press the button.

But Mark hasn’t left. He follows right after you, moving with an easy, unhurried stride, and when he realizes what you’re doing, a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

“O-ho?” he hums, amusement dripping from his voice. “My, my, Y/N, why’re you calling me?” 

His hand moves, effortlessly covering yours, fingers warm and firm over your knuckles. The phone rings—once, twice—and Mark leans in, his breath brushing against your ear, voice low, teasing.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You don’t need anyone else.” 

Your breath hitches. The sound of the third ring barely registers before he plucks the phone from your grasp with unnerving ease. You don’t even resist—your fingers tremble as they slip away from the device. Not that it would have done anything, anyway. The fifth ring echoes into silence, then clicks to Mark’s familiar voicemail. Useless.

The air in the room shifts, heavy and overwhelming. You watch, frozen, as he casually places your phone on your desk, just far enough out of reach.

Then, the moment your eyes meet his, you know.

This isn’t the Mark you know and love.

Mark hums, content, utterly unbothered as he slides back into your arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He sighs, pleased, like he belongs there, like nothing’s wrong.

Maybe you’re in shock. Maybe it’s fear, or disbelief, or survival instincts.

Because you let him.

Your arms fall open, letting him settle more comfortably against you, his weight pressing into you as he nuzzles closer. His warmth, his scent, the way he holds you tight—it’s all too much. And you—weak-kneed, breath unsteady—let him.

“Are you going to kill me?” you can’t help but ask eventually, voice quiet, barely a whisper.

He makes a confused sound in his throat, the vibration brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. “Hmm—not yet.”

Not yet. You should be terrified. Every nerve in your body should be screaming for you to run, to fight, to do something other than stand there, frozen, pliant in his grip. You know he’s dangerous. You know he could snap your neck without a second thought.

Yet—a curious thing happens in your brain.

You’re not afraid. You can’t be.

Because when your eyes settle on this Mark—and he looks exactly like the Mark you know, the Mark you have feelings for—something just… doesn’t click the way it should. Fear doesn’t come. Disgust doesn’t rise in your throat. Dread doesn’t tighten its grip around your chest.

Because he looks so much like Mark. And duh—he is Mark. But not yours, and that alone should be enough to make you want to bolt. Yet—as he nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tingling against your skin, his solid body pressing into yours with a firmness that feels both grounding and overwhelming, and the way he called you ‘sweetheart’—it all makes you want to give in to him.

The feelings you’ve buried—the ones you’ve shoved down since the day Mark rejected you, since the day you forced yourself to be okay with just being friends—are clawing their way back to the surface, stronger, faster, more consuming than ever.

“Oh yeah, you don’t have to worry though,” he says, his lips brushing against your pulse in a way that feels deliberate, calculated. “It’d be such a waste to kill you so fast. I came here for you, after all.”

His lips trail along your neck, slow and purposeful, and despite everything—despite knowing this isn’t right—you sigh, shivering at the unfamiliar, intoxicating affection. He moves upward, lips ghosting over your skin until he reaches your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“Mark…” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut, body melting under his touch.

“Ohh, I know, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with amusement, dripping with smug satisfaction. You can feel the smirk curving against your skin. “I know everything you like. I know every inch of you. Let me show you.”

Your body betrays you.

Your mind knows better—knows that this Mark isn’t yours, that the weight of his body pressing into yours should send alarms blaring through your head. But when his fingers skim your waist, when his breath fans hot against your skin, when he sighs like he belongs here—your body doesn’t fight him.

It welcomes him.

Your hands twitch at your sides, uncertain, but you don’t push him away.

“I can’t believe this universe’s Mark wouldn’t date you,” he muses, fingers wandering, exploring, curling behind your back before cupping your ass and squeezing. A choked sound catches in your throat as heat floods through you, your knees nearly giving out. “I mean—look at you.” His voice dips, teasing, triumphant. “Barely resisting.”

You bite your lip, swallowing a sound you refuse to let escape.

He laughs then—open, mocking, and so, so cocky. “And here I thought I’d have to fight this Mark over you, but—” his grin widens, wicked and pleased. “I don’t think I have any competition, sweetheart.” His lips brush against your jaw, his grip tightening possessively. “You’re all mine.”

He starts to push against you, forcing you to walk backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress. You fall onto the bed, breathless, your heart racing as he looms over you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Just mine, okay?” he growls, his voice low and dripping with possessiveness. “I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you—not even him. Not even this universe’s pathetic version of me.” He scoffs, his hands gripping the hem of your t-shirt and tugging it off with a harsh, almost desperate motion. “Loving someone else? When I have you? He’s a fool. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Y/N—you have no idea how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve—” 

He groans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark, his eyes raking over your exposed skin like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him. You shiver, a deep blush spreading across your face. It’s too much, too fast, and you feel utterly exposed as his gaze devours every inch of you. His expression twists, a mix of desperation and adoration, as if he’s memorizing every detail of your body, committing it to memory so he’ll never forget. His fingers twitch, hovering over your skin but not touching, like he’s savoring the moment, stretching it out just to make you squirm.

It’s too intimate, too intense, and for a fleeting second, you forget that he’s dangerous.

“Stop staring,” you weakly complain, turning your face away.

“Oooh, oh-ho-ho, yeah, baby, you’re just like I remember...” he laughs, his breathing uneven, his voice shaking with a wild, almost manic energy. “Yeah—I’ll never let him have you. Never let anyone else even look at you. You’re just mine—holy shit.” 

And then he dives.

His lips crash into yours, claiming rather than kissing, his entire body pressing you down into the mattress, forcing your legs open. It’s desperate, feverish—starving. His tongue pushes past your lips, stealing your breath, and you moan into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you struggle to keep up with his messy, frantic rhythm. He kisses you with a ferocity that leaves you dizzy. He groans and growls against your lips as his hands roam your body, gripping and groping every inch of exposed skin. His fingers brush against your nipples, teasing and possessive, and you can only take it, breathless and overwhelmed, your mind spinning as he claims you in every way he can.

“Yeah, baby, keep making those sounds for me,” he murmurs against your lips before diving in again, swallowing every breath, every whimper like it fuels him. “So, so good. Fuck, you have no idea—it keeps me going.”

Your breath stutters as his fingers pinch your nipple, hard enough to make your back arch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. His free hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat as he grinds his hips down. Your legs part without a second thought, welcoming him, urging him closer until he’s right there, pressing into you, slotting himself between your thighs.

“That’s it, spread wider for me,” he pants, voice dripping with dark approval. “You’re still so good, fuck.”

Your lips burn, swollen and tingling from his kisses, and when you blink up at him through your lashes, you catch the glint in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, the usual warm brown of his eyes swallowed by something feral. That smirk—all sharp teeth and predatory hunger—should terrify you. Because the Mark you know has never looked like this before. This unhinged and unsteady. It’s a sharp, gut-wrenching reminder—this isn’t your Mark. This isn’t the sweet, awkward Mark who you fell for, the one you trusted. This Mark is wrong, a twisted mirror image, and you should be fighting him, shoving him away, clawing your way out even if it’s futile—

But then he leans down and presses the softest, faintest kiss to the tip of your nose.

And your mind blanks.

Because holy shit—Mark, the man you’ve been pining over for months, years, is kissing you. And it feels so good, so intoxicating, it messes with your head, scrambles your thoughts into something dangerous.

You know it’s wrong. You know this isn’t him. It’s like pouring your feelings into a stranger, a shadow wearing his face. But fuck—this Mark grinds against you, slow and deliberate, and you feel him, the hard press of him against you, thick and aching with want.

You gasp, body tensing, startled by how badly he wants you.

“Ohh, baby,” he whines, voice thick with desperate need, like he’s been starving for this moment for lifetimes. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, marking you as his. “Let me—” His hips roll again, dragging his thick length against your own, and you choke on air. “Let me make you feel good. Let me make you come, please, baby, please.”

Teeth scrape along your jaw before finding that sweet spot beneath your ear—the one you didn’t even know was sensitive—and you arch off the bed with a broken moan when he sucks harshly at the skin. His lips, his tongue, his teeth—he maps every inch of you like he’s memorized you, like he already knows every single weak spot before you even realize them yourself.

“Please? Please?” he keeps begging, voice so raw, so desperate, so utterly pathetic it makes you dizzy.

And you—you’re still too caught off guard to react properly. Because Mark—your Mark—never looked at you like this. Never even wanted you like this. But this Mark? He’s rutting against you like an animal in heat, his massive cock straining against his suit as he whimpers your name, making your head spin.

It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. Because Mark rejected you. Because you told yourself you’d be fine with just being friends. Because this isn’t even him—just the evil, dangerous version of him.

(Mark would slip into your open arms, his body heavy with exhaustion.

“I just—I’m scared,” he’d admit, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Scared of turning into my father. Scared of hurting people. And after everything with Angstrom…” his voice would trail off, fingers twitching against your back like he’s afraid to hold on too tightly.

You’d run a soothing hand along his spine, grounding him. “What do you mean?” you’d ask, gentle, coaxing him to keep talking.

“He—he talked about me like I was a monster,” Mark would whisper, voice tight. “Like there’s a version of me out there who destroyed everything. A version of me who’d kill everyone I love. A version of me who’d… destroy you.”

A slow, quiet exhale would leave your lips. “But you’re this Mark,” you’d remind him. “You’re my best friend. And you’d never do that.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, slowly, Mark would sags against you, burying himself deeper into your warmth.

“Yeah,” he’d murmur, barely more than a breath. “Never.”)

But when you move—when you grind up into him, your body answering before your mind can stop it—he makes a noise, something between a groan and a sob, and it’s so wrecked, so full of relief it makes your stomach twist.

Your arms loop around his neck, dragging him closer, pressing your bodies so tight together you can feel his heartbeat hammering against your own. And when his teeth sink into your throat, sucking so hard you know it’s going to bruise, a sharp, broken sound escapes your lips.

The room burns around you, filled with the obscene sounds of his desperate whines and your shaky gasps, the slick friction of fabric between your joined bodies.

“Yeah—” you gasp, nails raking down his back as pleasure coils tight in your gut. “Fuck, Mark, just—Do it. Do it.”

He groans, deep and guttural, a sound so full of possession it sends a sharp pulse of heat down your spine. Then his teeth sink into your neck again—hard enough that you know he’s breaking skin. And when his tongue licks the wound, sucking the blood like he owns you—you know he’s got you.

Your mind fractures into white-hot static as every rational thought—the blood crusted on his suit, the madness in his eyes, the thousands he’s slaughtered, the fact this isn’t your Mark—dissolves into primal need. Nothing exists but the electric pleasure coiling tighter in your gut with each desperate grind of his hips.

“Mark,” you sob, voice breaking as your body arches against him of its own volition. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him closer. “Oh god, Mark. Fuck. Mark.”

A guttural snarl vibrates against your throat as he claims your mouth again, his tongue pushing past your lips in a violent mimicry of what his hips are doing against yours. The growing dampness between your thighs should shame you, but all you can focus on is the delicious friction, the way his teeth scrape your bottom lip when you moan too loud.

But it’s still not enough.

Not with these fucking clothes between you, not with the way you’re both rutting against each other like wild animals, frantic and insatiable. It’s maddening. You need more.

Your nails claw at his back, at his suit, needing to feel his skin the way he’s feeling yours.

“Get it off,” you manage to gasp between feverish kisses. “Please, Mark.”

With a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine, he rears back just enough to grip his suit’s collar. The fabric shreds like tissue paper beneath his strength, revealing sweat-slick skin you immediately map with trembling fingers. His pupils blow wider at your touch, chest heaving as he crushes you back into the mattress.

“Oh yeah, Y/N...” he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingertips trace the dark marks blooming across your neck like bruises. Proof that you belong to him. “Bet this universe’s Mark never made you feel this way, did he? Never touched you like this?” his grip tightens suddenly, making you gasp. “I’m the first, aren’t I? The only one who’s ever had you like this?”

You whimper, nodding without thinking, legs locking tight around his waist, keeping him close, keeping him there.

His grin stretches, wild and triumphant. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he murmurs, his hand trailing down with agonizing slowness—down your neck, across your heaving chest, brushing over your sensitive nipples, gliding down your stomach... Until, finally, his fingers settle between your legs, pressing against the thick, aching bulge in your sweatpants, squeezing just enough to rip a needy moan from your lips. “Look at you,” he breathes, eyes wild with possessive hunger. “So fucking perfect for me. So ready to be mine. Does your Mark know what a desperate little thing you are? How easily you fall apart under my hands?”

His smile tilts, both awestruck and predatory. Then, he leans in until his lips brush yours, his hand working you through the fabric with rough, perfect strokes that have you trembling.

“So hard just for me,” he murmurs against your mouth. “He could never make you feel like this. Never touch you like I do.” His teeth graze your bottom lip. “He could never compare. I’m better, I’m stronger—”

He peppers kisses along the corner of your mouth, your flushed cheeks, tender and teasing, a sharp contrast to the way his pace quickens—faster, rougher.

“—I could make you feel even better,” he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear, voice so low, so filthy it makes you shudder. “Make you scream my name, so loud and clear, maybe the other Mark could even hear you.”

Your breath stutters, a deep moan slipping from your lips, body twisting under his touch.

“Ohh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he chuckles, breath warm against your neck, teasing, taunting. “You’d love to let him watch. Love to let him see you break for me. Let him realize what he’s lost—what he’ll never have again.”

His voice dips lower, sinking into something darker, something twisted.

“You’d let me fuck you in front of him, wouldn’t you?”

Your body jolts, heat flashing through you in a violent rush, shame curling in your stomach like a vice.

“N-no—!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut, face burning with humiliation. “No, I wouldn’t—”

But your body betrays you. Trembling, surrendering, completely giving in—your hips rut desperately against his hand, your pre-cum soaking through the fabric, staining it.

“Liar,” Mark breathes against your swollen lips before crushing them again in a kiss that’s hot, rough, and bruising. “I can feel how much you want it. How much you need it.”

His thumb presses cruelly against the head of your cock, rubbing slow, torturous circles through the fabric, making you see stars. Your whole body jolts, a strangled gasp tearing from your throat.

“Maybe I should drag him here,” he whispers, grinning against your lips. “Make him watch as I fuck you so good, you forget he’s your Mark Grayson. Make him see how perfectly you take me—how you were always meant to be... ours.”

You shake your head frantically, words lost between your ragged gasps. “No—”

But your back arches, cock throbbing obscenely against his palm. The more he whispers these filthy fantasies, the harder you get, hips stuttering, desperate and eager, seeking more, more, more, as his words sink deep into your brain, filling you with something forbidden, something wrong—something you like.

The pressure builds unbearable. His fingers move with ruthless precision, stroking, squeezing, dragging you to the edge, pulling sounds from you that should be humiliating—but you can’t stop.

Then you think about it. About your Mark. The one who’s still out there, fighting, struggling, exhausted and worn down. You think about what would he think. What would he do if he saw you like this. You imagine your Mark’s confused face watching—the horror in his eyes as he sees you come apart under his doppelgänger’s touch, moaning and whimpering like some cheap slut desperate for any version of him.

“Mark,” you sob as waves of shame and pleasure crash over you. “Mark, Mark—”

Mark exhales a breathy chuckle, eyes dark with fascination. “Oh-ho-ho. That’s it, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.”

And then it hits you.

White-hot pleasure blinds you completely as you spill in your sweatpants like some untouched virgin, his name tumbling from your lips in a broken prayer. Your body arches violently, convulsing as your legs clamp around his waist like a vice. Your hands claw at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him, to this moment, to reality itself.

“Jesus…” he exhales, almost in awe, his grip tightening possessively. “My god… so perfect.”

You’re reduced to a trembling, gasping mess—shaky legs, toes curling, vision whiting out as the aftershocks rip through you. Mark watches it all with a smug, hungry smirk, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every twitch, every quiver like he’s trying to memorize it, to brand it into his mind.

“Yeah—let it out, Y/N,” he whispers, voice thick with satisfaction. “I did this to you. I made you feel this good.”

(“Does that feel good?” Mark would mutter into your ear, his hands still working awkwardly at the knots in your back.

You’d groan, face mushed into the pillow. ”Yup. Feels good. Really good.”

“I still can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he’d grumble, brows pinching together.

You’d stifle a laugh, eyes fluttering shut. ”You lost the bet, Grayson. Now keep massaging my back. My muscles are still wrecked from all the damn work you put me through covering you at Uni.”

“William never complains.”

“Because William sucks at covering! The only reason you’re not suspended is because I’m just too good at lying—Oh! Yeah! Right there, don’t stop,” you’d sigh, melting into the mattress. ”Oh my god, yes…”

His hands would freeze, fingers pressing hesitantly into your skin. ”…Can you stop making those sounds?”

“What sounds?” you’d murmur, half-dazed.

Mark would be quiet for a beat, then resume with a sigh. “Never mind. How about this? Does that feel good?”

“Mmmh, holy shit—yes!”)

Finally, you sink into the mattress, chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven breaths as your climax wears off. Your head falls back against the pillows, glazed eyes barely tracking Mark’s movements. His fingers leave the bulge in your sweatpants, moving to your waistband, fumbling briefly before tugging your sweatpants and underwear down, inch by inch.

“Just let me take care of you,” he mumbles, dazed. “Always gonna take care of you.”

The cold air bites at your oversensitive cock as he yanks it free, his pupils blown wide as he stares at what’s his. Before you can even process the exposure, Mark flashes you a wicked grin before his lips wrap around your cock, hot and wet and devastating. Your hips jolt, body convulsing at the sensation. His tongue swirls, savoring, exploring, a deep groan rumbling in his throat as he tastes you. The overstimulation is unbearable, electric. A strangled, pathetic cry rips from your throat as your hands fly to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, trying—failing—to push him away.

“Mark!” you jolt, thighs snapping shut around his head, trembling, squeezing, clutching. “Oh my god. Oh my god—oh my god. No—”

A deep, satisfied groan rumbles through him, vibrating against your cock and making you yelp. His hands pin your thrashing hips down, holding you there, making sure you take it.

“Mark—”

“Mine,” he snarls between filthy, wet sucks. “Gonna taste every fucking drop.”

The overstimulation borders on painful as he works you ruthlessly through your sensitivity, your cries growing increasingly broken. And yet, somewhere beneath the overwhelming pleasure, a traitorous part of you preens at being so desperately wanted.

Wanted. By Mark. Not your Mark, not the one who’d gently rejected you, but a Mark all the same. A version from some twisted reality who’d torn through dimensions just to claim you. And it sickens you—the satisfaction curling in your gut, the twisted pleasure of knowing that somewhere, in some reality, Mark has always wanted you. Craved you. And if he’s here, willing to ruin you, to unravel you with nothing but his mouth, then who are you to stop him?

His tongue works you over with filthy precision, hot and wet and perfect in ways you’d never dared fantasize about. You writhe beneath him, sheets twisting in your fists, as your gaze drops to where he’s sucking you off—Mark Grayson, on his knees for you, eyes close in joy. The sight alone punches a broken noise from your throat.

“F-fuck—!” you arch violently, tears spilling as pleasure crests into near-pain. “Fuck, I can’t—Mark, please, I can’t—!”

Finally, he lets you go with a slick, obscene ‘pop.’ He pants, breath heavy, lips red and wet as he leans over you. You’re gasping too, your chest rising and falling in erratic bursts, your body trembling like you’ve run yourself into the ground.

Mark watches you, gaze trailing over your flushed skin, your wrecked, tear-streaked face. And then he grins.

“I love you like this,” he murmurs, voice rough. His thumb swipes at the wetness on your cheek. “Love it when you cry.”

(“I hate when you cry,” Mark would say, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. ”I hate it even more when it’s me who made you cry.”

You’d slap his hand away, face twisting into a scowl. ”Shut up, Grayson. How dare you—how dare you act upset.” Your voice would shake, anger sharpening every word. ”You can’t even say sorry. Can’t even fake an excuse for why you’ve treated me like this, ignoring me for months… And don’t try to deny it—William noticed too!”

He’d wince, eyes darting away. ”I can’t—I can’t say it.”

“That you’re sorry?” you’d scoff, disbelief dripping from the words.

Mark would bite his lip, shaking his head desperately. ”No! Of course not. It’s—the reason.”

“The reason you’ve been pulling away?” you’d snap, swiping the back of your hand across your wet cheek. Then, it would hit you—heart lurching. ”Is it… because I confessed? I thought we were past that. That we’d still be friends no matter what…”

Your voice would crack, gaze dropping to the floor.

Mark would flinch, shoulders slumping in defeat. ”It’s part of the reason.”

“I don’t understand,” you’d murmur, voice breaking. ”You said it didn’t matter. You promised it wouldn’t change anything.”

“I don’t understand either,” he’d admit, hand scrubbing roughly through his hair. ”Just—just give me time. I need to… figure some things out.”

“You won’t even tell me?”

Mark would press his lips into a tight line, guilt flashing across his face as his gaze caught on your tear-streaked cheeks. ”I can’t.”)

A helpless sob rips from your throat as he surges forward, capturing your bruised lips in a desperate, feverish kiss. He moans into your mouth, deep and needy, and you can taste yourself on his tongue—hot, salty, intoxicating. The realization only makes you burn hotter.

Then, a moan rattles in your chest as his free hand trails lower, fingers teasing where you’re most sensitive. Your gasp is sharp when one presses against your entrance.

“W-wait—” you huff, shaky hands pressing against his broad shoulders. “No… I’ve never—never done this…”

Mark freezes, his expression shifting from surprise to something terrifyingly euphoric. “Oohh, Y/N can you get any more perfect for me? My god—not even in my universe were you a virgin.” He chuckles, low and dark. “Were you saving yourself for him? Hoping he’d finally see you the way I do? He’s such a fool—But I will make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so good.”

As he speaks, his hands roam, gripping your thighs with an iron hold before pushing them up—forcing you open, leaving you vulnerable beneath him. Your face flushes with embarrassment and arousal, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets tightly at the sheer obscenity of the position. He flashes a playful grin, his breath warm against your ass, causing you to gasp and breathe unevenly.

“What— What are you doing?” you stammer weakly, squirming uncomfortably, peering down with shame as Mark leans over your hole, a wide smirk across his face. You realize a second too late was he’s up to. “Wait, wait—Oh my god!”

Your back arches, mouth letting go a deep, throaty groan and your eyes rolling back when Mark inserts his tongue, licking and lapping at the inner walls of your hole, sucking and nibling and kissing. Your head throws back against the pillows, skin burning so hot you swear you’ll melt into the sheets. The sensation is overwhelming—Mark’s hot tongue delves between your cheeks with shameless enthusiasm, licking and probing with obscenely wet sounds that make you squirm uncontrollably. You writhe in delicious contradiction, torn between pulling away and pressing deeper into his merciless mouth.

“Mmh, look at you—” Mark pants between greedy licks, his voice thick with arousal. “That’s it. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You’re beyond responding, your hips stuttering and your asshole clenching and unclenching with the unfamiliar, yet intoxicating sensation. The pleasure is so intense you bite your lip raw trying to contain the filthy sounds fighting to escape. It’s useless, though, because Mark keeps eating you out and it only takes a few minutes of this sweet torture until you start whimpering and mewling like a little whore.

“F-fuck—!” the curse tears from your throat as your toes curl and back arches off the bed. Your cock stirs back to full hardness, dripping pathetically against your stomach. “Fuck—Mark, my god! Don’t stop, fuck—Oh my god—”

You’ve never been touched like this before—it never even crossed your mind, not even in your wildest fantasies. But damn, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Who would have thought that being pleasured like this could feel so incredibly good? You might just climax right then and there with Mark’s warm, skilled tongue working its magic, and you’d die happily. Your erection is unbelievably hard, leaking pre-cum onto your stomach, but you don’t dare touch yourself because you’re too busy gripping the sheets for stability.

But then Mark pulls away, and you moan and whimper with need, trying to tighten around him in an attempt to draw him back.

Mark smirks and chuckles, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at your own lewdness.

“God, baby, you’re so perfect for me,” Mark rasps, pulling back just enough to loom over you. His lips glisten with your taste, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “Look at you—already falling apart just from my mouth. Think you’re ready to take me, sweetheart? Think that pretty little hole can handle my cock?”

You hadn’t noticed before, too lost in the haze of pleasure—but Mark’s hips have been moving restlessly the whole time, fucking the air with desperate, instinctive thrusts as he devoured you. Now, as he looms over you, you can feel him, hot and throbbing, grinding against your thighs through the thin fabric of his suit. And fuck—he’s massive. Even through the material, you can feel the sheer size of him, the way he twitches with every needy thrust. And yeah—his mouth has left you slick, loose, ready to be filled—but shit. Viltrumites have monster cocks, and it scares you.

And yet—and yet, as Mark moves against you, teasing, testing, making sure you feel the sheer girth of him even through fabric, all you can feel is hunger, a desperate need.

So, huskily, with glazed eyes, you whisper, “Yes, Mark. Yes.”

He doesn’t make you beg twice. One hand tears the remaining suit away like tissue paper, his cock springing free—thick, veiny, and already leaking. The flushed tip bobs against your thigh, leaving a sticky trail as your breath catches.

“Fuck, Y/N—” Mark’s voice breaks as he strokes himself, his wild eyes drinking in every tremble of your body. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. How many nights I dreamed of this moment. You—here, with me again.” His breath shudders, his grip tightening. “Had to find you. Had to make you mine again. I missed you. I missed you.”

His feverish rambling sends your pulse into overdrive, and for one fleeting moment, you wonder about that other life—what version of you could make a man this desperate, this feral with need? What was their relationship like? How did it end? How did Mark end up here, in your universe, searching for you? But then Mark’s strong hands are spreading your thighs wide, his body settling heavily between them, and all coherent thought evaporates in a rush of dizzying arousal.

Shit, shit—Mark Grayson, the boy you’ve been in love with since eighth grade, is about to fuck you. And shit—that thought alone makes your cock ache, your hole clench with anticipation, even as your mind screams that this isn’t your Mark. Your real Mark is probably fighting for his life somewhere. Maybe even dying. And here you are, letting his evil counterpart have you—willingly.

That makes you a horrible friend. You’re disgusting. A traitor. You’re giving in to every dirty fantasy you’ve ever had, every longing you’ve buried for years, all because this Mark—the wrong Mark—looks at you with the hunger you’ve always dreamed of seeing in your Mark’s eyes.

It’s sick. It’s twisted. You’ll never be able to look your Mark in the eye again. Guilt twists in your gut, heavy and suffocating.

You should stop.

You should have never let it go this far.

But then—

“Shh, baby, I got you,” this Mark whispers, shattering your spiraling thoughts. His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he lines himself up. “I got you. Gonna make you feel so good.”

You shiver, heat flushing your skin as his cock presses against your entrance, thick and hard and real. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, locking behind him, pulling him in.

Mark groans, deep and satisfied, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he grins down at you.

“Fuck, yes,” he hums appreciatively, running possessive hands along your trembling thighs. “You’re so good, Y/N. So good.”

His fingers dig deep enough to leave bruises as he drinks down every gasp, every shudder of your oversensitive body like a man starved. And just when desperation coils in your gut—when the teasing pressure at your entrance becomes unbearable—Mark sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

“Fuck—!” your cry shatters the air as your body bows taut, back arching off the bed. The stretch burns, his thickness forcing you open in ways that make your vision whiten at the edges. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He’s massive, painfully so. You can feel every ridge, every vein as your body struggles to accommodate him. It’s too much—you’re certain he’ll split you in two.

And yet... The fullness is intoxicating. It burns. It aches. But it also satisfies something deep within you, a primal need you hadn’t even realized was there. Tears prickle at your eyes as you clench the sheets, overwhelmed by the sheer reality of Mark Grayson buried inside you.

“Fuck...” Mark’s voice is guttural, dripping with satisfaction as he bottoms out. “God, you’re tight.” His hips grind deeper, wringing a broken whimper from your throat. “Taking me so perfect—fuck, you feel incredible. Like you were waiting just for me.”

And then, slowly, oh so fucking slowly, he begins to pull back out, dragging a wrecked moan from your lips. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto as he sets a rhythm, each movement sending heat curling through your veins.

“That’s it,” Mark pants against your neck, his breath scalding as he inhales your scent like an addict. “Just like that… you’re perfect. Nobody else could take me like this.” His teeth graze your pulse point possessively. “Only you. Only mine.”

The next thrust is deeper than the last, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your hips jolt up instinctively, a surprised sound catching in your throat.

“Oh god, Mark,” you whine, nails digging into his back, voice breaking on a breathy moan. “Ah—ngh—fuck—”

The agonizingly slow drag of his cock has your vision swimming, pain and pleasure blurring into one overwhelming sensation. He’s so thick, so long, so heavy inside you. Every time he pushes in, it feels impossibly deeper, stretching you, filling you—until it makes your stomach bulge slightly, a small bump appearing in the flat plane of your abdomen.

Mark groans, eyes going wide, his hand settling at the base of your belly. “God, look at you,” he breathes, awed. His fingers press into the bulge, tracing the outline of himself inside you. “Fuck, I’m buried so deep in you. Right here, Y/N—you feel that? That’s me claiming you. Oh-ho-ho, goddamn, look what I do to you.”

His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin even as awe colors his voice. He punctuates each word with a punishing thrust, fingers digging into the visible outline of himself inside you like he wants to brand the shape of his possession into your flesh. And you can’t look away either—because holy shit, this is the first time you’ve ever felt anything like this, and it’s almost too much. Too intense. Too consuming.

Tears streak down your flushed cheeks as your legs tremble violently. The initial pain has melted into overwhelming pleasure, your body adjusting to his impossible size with desperate, shameful eagerness.

“More,” you rasp between gasps, arching up shamelessly. “Faster. Harder. Please—”

Mark chuckles darkly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. “Gonna make you feel good. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

The dark promise in his words should terrify you. Instead, it sends another pulse of white-hot pleasure straight to your aching cock. Then he moves—harder, faster—tearing the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and reeling. Your body clenches around him, every nerve alight as a broken whimper escapes your lips.

“Mark—Mark—” you mumble his name between gasps, unable to form anything else. “Mark, ah—Mark—mmh—fuck—”

A sharp cry rips from your throat as Mark shifts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. Heat surges down your spine, forcing you to arch off the bed, toes curling, every nerve alight with raw, electric pleasure.

“Fuck! There! Mark—ngh—fuck!” you moan, biting down on your lip so hard you taste the faint tang of blood. Mark growls, his movements deep and unrelenting, each thrust pressing you further into the mattress. The bed creaks beneath the force, your skin burning where his grip tightens. “There! Keep going! Fuck, it feels so good—Mark!”

Then—through the haze of heat, through the sinful sounds of skin against skin, of your wrecked moans and his low, animalistic groans—something intrudes. A sharp, buzzing vibration. Your ringtone.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, flickering toward your desk—just a few feet away, where Mark tossed your phone. You’re aware the screen glows, the sound ringing in the background, before another brutal thrust wipes all coherent thought away. Let it ring. Nothing matters except the way Mark’s splitting you apart, remaking you as his with every snap of his hips.

The phone rings and rings… then stops. And you don’t even notice when it goes silent, too preoccupied with the drag of Mark’s cock inside you, the way your nails sink into the broad expanse of his back, leaving behind deep, angry marks.

“Perfect,” Mark rasps against your ear, his voice wrecked and reverent, “Taking me so fucking good, Y/N. Made for this. Made for me.”

Your thighs shake violently around him, toes curling as his filthy praise reduces you to nothing but lustful moans and pleading whimpers.

Then—your phone starts ringing again.

This time, Mark notices.

He stills inside you with a low snarl, his body tensing as he straightens slightly, casting an annoyed glance toward the device. But when he reaches for it—his cock still buried deep inside you, making you whimper—his expression darkens with wicked amusement as he reads the caller ID.

“Well, well,” he purrs, looming over you once more, planting one hand beside your head while the other dangles the phone just inches from your flushed, dazed face. “Take a look at this.”

Your stomach drops at the familiar name flashing on screen. It’s Mark—your Mark—calling you.

“Should we answer it, baby?” he muses, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smirk. “Let him hear what you sound like when you’re properly fucked?”

“No—!” you gasp, wrecked and breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs as you reach for the phone, desperate to snatch it from his grasp. “Mark—”

But he’s quicker.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, lifting a single finger in mock reprimand, effortlessly keeping the phone out of reach. His other hand tightens around your hip, keeping you pinned. “You need to get your shit together first, Y/N. Wouldn’t want him to know what you’re doing, now would you?” His eyes gleam with wicked delight. “With that pornographic little voice of yours—so wrecked, so needy for my cock…” He leans in, his breath fanning over your ear. “I bet he’d figure it out immediately.”

A shudder rips through you.

Your vision blurs—tears welling at the edges, cold fear twisting deep in your gut. But worse—worse—is the way your body betrays you. The way you clench around him involuntarily at the thought. At the sheer humiliation of it.

Of your Mark listening on the other end. Unaware. Oblivious. As his variant fucks and ruins you.

“See? I know you,” he murmurs, his voice syrup-thick with satisfaction as he strokes your cheek with unnerving tenderness. His free hand cups your face, his thumb dragging over your lips. “I know exactly what kind of fucked-up little thing you are.”

His grin widens as he watches your lips tremble, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants.

“I’m glad you’re the same here as you were in my universe, Y/N. I adore you like this.” Then, his tone dips lower, velvet wrapped around something dangerous. “Now—try to keep him distracted while I take my time with you, yeah?”

Before you can react, he thrusts—sharp and sudden—just once, but it’s enough to steal the air from your lungs. A strangled gasp escapes you, body reacting on instinct, pulse hammering as he stills once more.

Mark leans in, his breath hot against your parted lips, his amusement dripping with warning. “Otherwise, he’ll keep calling,” he murmurs. “And I don’t want him interrupting us.”

Your stomach twists in knots of anticipation and dread. The phone is still ringing, still just out of reach—Mark’s name flashing on the screen, a second away from being answered. And all the while, this Mark remains inside you—hot, solid, pressing deeper with each second of silence.

“Okay...” you breathe, forcing air into your lungs. “Okay.”

Mark’s smirk turns predatory as he brushes a featherlight kiss to your nose before tapping the answer button, offering you the phone back—and as soon as you grab it and press it to your ear, he immediately resumes his slow, deliberate thrusts that make your toes curl.

“Y/N? Y/N!” The real Mark’s voice—familiar, concerned, kind—crackles through the speaker. He sounds breathless, frantic. “Are you okay? You called and I couldn’t answer but then—but then I called back and you didn’t pick up, and I’m—I’m worried—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip, fighting so hard to keep quiet. But the Mark above you doesn’t make it easy, his hips moving with cruel precision, his smirk deepening as he watches you struggle.

“…Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you choke out, voice miraculously steady despite the way your body arches into each thrust. The not-yours-Mark’s eyes glint with dark amusement as he increases his pace. “I’m... okay.”

Your voice wavers. You can’t help it. A shaky sigh escapes when he ducks his head to nip at your throat, his hot breath raising goosebumps across your oversensitive skin.

“Thank God,” your actual Mark exhales, the relief in his voice almost painful to hear. “Listen, Cecil just— he lost track of a variant. Said he was heading your way, Y/N.”

The not-yours-Mark stills inside you, his expression shifting to something dangerously intrigued. “Oh?” he murmurs against your pulse.

“Y-yeah?” you blurt too loudly, praying the real Mark didn’t hear him.

Your fingers dig into the sheets as the not-yours-Mark begins moving again with renewed purpose, each thrust calculated to wring helpless sounds from your throat while you struggle to keep your breathing even.

“Yeah,” your actual Mark replies through the phone, his voice strained. “I’ll—I’ll come your way. Or the GDA will pick you up, but—it’s dangerous to stay in your apartment! Please, just—just leave. Right now.”

You choke back another gasp, barely holding yourself together. No—you can’t let Mark come here. You can’t let the GDA get involved either. The humiliation would be unbearable—agents witnessing you like this, being taken apart by the same monster who probably leveled cities and slaughtered thousands before claiming you in your own bed.

“No!” you blurt out, voice cracking under the weight of too many emotions. “No, nngh, fuck—you can’t!”

You’re losing control. This Mark—the wrong Mark—is hitting your prostate with every brutal thrust, his teeth sinking into that sensitive spot on your neck while his fingers twist your nipples mercilessly. Stars explode behind your eyelids as another lewd groan escapes you. Virgin or not, there’s no way you could stay quiet under this assault. You realize with dawning horror that he doesn’t want you quiet—he wants you loud, to moan, to let your Mark hear you. To let him know.

That yeah—he’s here.

And yeah—he’s fucking you.

For a moment, there’s only silence on the other end of the call.

Then finally, Mark speaks again, slower this time. “This—this isn’t negotiable, Y/N,” he says, though there’s something off—a hesitation, a shift in his tone as your breath stutters audibly. “Are you… okay?”

No. You’re not okay. You’re overwhelmed, wrecked by pleasure more intense than anything you’ve ever known, losing your virginity to a twisted version of the man you love. Hot tears of shame spill down your cheeks as a sob tears from your throat.

“...Y/N?” Mark’s voice sounds distant now. You can barely hear him over the rush of blood in your ears, over the slick sound of skin meeting skin, over the obscene, broken whimpers falling from your lips.

“Mmmh, fuck,” you gasp as the pressure builds unbearably inside you. “Fuck—Mark—”

“That’s it, baby,” not-your-Mark whispers in your ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “You wanna come, don’t you? Wanna scream my name?”

The dam breaks. “Yes! Fuck, yes, yes!” Your voice shatters with each punishing thrust. Dignity forgotten, you arch desperately against him, meeting every movement as you beg mindlessly. “Mark—I can’t—oh god, please, please...!”

The line goes silent for an agonizing moment, the static crackle carrying more weight than words ever could. You squeeze your eyes shut, shame and guilt and disgust warring with the pleasure coiling tight in your belly—but it’s too late now. Far too late.

“Y/N...?” his voice comes through the receiver—your Mark’s voice—strangled and low, thick with realization.

Your stomach drops. He knows. Oh god, he knows. He fucking knows.

Not-your-Mark lets out a pleased hum against your neck, his fingers lazily plucking the phone from your trembling hand while his hips snap forward, forcing a needy moan from your lips. The wet sound of skin on skin is unmistakable. There’s no way your Mark could mistake what’s happening.

Not-your-Mark’s eyes glint with something wicked as he presses the phone to his ear, smirking.

“Too late, dickhead,” he says, just as breathless as you, his voice dripping with smug victory as he punctuates each word with another brutal thrust. “He’s already mine.”

Mark’s furious roar bursts through the speaker. “You—!” you close your eyes, mortified, tears falling down your cheeks because this is the moment Mark realizes you’re a horrible friend. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YO—”

But the sound is cut off with a sickening crunch as not-your-Mark’s fingers tighten, phone shattering, fragments falling like dust.

“Oops,” he pouts mockingly, tilting his head with feigned innocence before his expression darkens. His hand snakes around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but firm enough to claim. “Now where were we, sweetheart?”

When he slams back into you, you arch off the bed with a broken scream, your legs spreading wider of their own volition. He chuckles darkly, hands sliding under your thighs to fold you nearly in half, opening you up so completely that each thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growls, pace turning erratic as his control fractures. “Look at you—taking me so perfect. Tell me. Tell me how much you love this. How much you love taking my cock.”

“I love it,” you gasp without thought, your mind obliterated by pleasure. “Fuck—I love it. I love you.”

A deep, guttural moan tears from his throat, his grip on you tightening as he nods frantically. “Yeah? Love me? Fuck— I love you too, baby. I love you so fucking much.”

And you know he’s not your Mark. You know your real Mark is probably flying at full speed right now, minutes, or even seconds from bursting through your window. But Christ—hearing those words, in Mark’s voice, from his lips, with his face twisted in raw, desperate worship—it makes you dizzy. It makes you happy.

“I love you,” you say again, fingers twisting into his dark hair, dragging him down until your panting mouths brush. “I love you. Always have—fuck—since—since before you even got your powers, Mark!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Ah—fuck, yes!” The words dissolve into moans as you kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips sliding messily against his. “When you were such--a nerd! Loved you since we were kids. Love you now. I always will—”

He groans, swallowing your words with a feverish kiss, his hands squeezing your cheeks until your mouth falls open, surrendering completely. Tongues tangle, breath mingles, and he moans right into you—

“I love—” he pants, his movements growing erratic. “I love you, Y/N. Fuck—Gonna take you home with me. Gonna keep you forever. Steal you from that idiot...make him see what he threw away—”

Then—suddenly—his hand wraps around your cock.

It’s been untouched this entire time, leaking wildly against your stomach, and the moment his fingers curl around it, a sharp, broken whimper escapes you. Your hips jerk helplessly, legs trembling as pleasure rips through you.

“Fuuuuck,” you sob, shuddering against him. “Don’t stop—don’t stop. I’m gonna—”

“I got you, baby,” he growls, stroking you faster, fucking into you harder. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good. Gonna take you away. Gonna own you!”

And God help you—his words don’t sound like threats when you’re drowning in white-hot ecstasy. In this moment, you’d let him drag you through dimensions, would beg him to claim you completely—because he wants you. He loves you. He craves you in a way you’ve always ached to be craved. And right now—you’d let him take you. You’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“Ah—ah, Mark—” Your body locks up, stomach tightening, hole clenching around him as the pressure on your cock becomes unbearable. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

“Yeah, baby, let it out,” he growls against your lips, his hand working your cock in perfect sync with his punishing thrusts. “Come for me. Now.”

You shatter with a strangled scream, body jerking violently as you spill across your stomach in thick, hot stripes. Your vision whites out, every muscle locking and spasming as pleasure tears through.

Mark groans like a man possessed, his thrusts faltering as your hole flutters and clenches around him. “Fuck—fuck—” He slams into you one final time, burying himself deep, and then he’s coming too, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. His grip tightens as he grinds himself deeper, prolonging every last spurt, wringing every aftershock from you until you’re trembling and spent beneath him.

You can’t move. Can’t speak. All you can do is lie there, trembling, as he keeps pumping into you, dragging out your orgasm until you’re sobbing from oversensitivity. His hips grind against yours, forcing every last drop into you like he’s determined to make sure you remember this.

When he finally pulls out, you whimper at the loss, your body limp and wrecked. Sweat and come cling to your skin, your chest heaving as aftershocks wrack through you. Every inch of you is marked—bruises blooming where his fingers, his teeth, his lips claimed you.

You barely register the mattress dipping as he lays beside you, his arms wrapping around your exhausted frame. A soft, lingering kiss presses to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur against your damp skin.

“Shh, shh, Y/N,” his fingers trace lazy circles against your back. “Go to sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”

Even in your dazed, post-orgasmic haze, you understand what “everything” means.

It means your Mark—your universe’s Mark—is on his way. It means a fight is inevitable. It means blood, destruction, the clash of two forces that look the same but could never be. And when that moment comes, you’ll have to face him—face the shame that will devour you whole.

Because how dare you?

How dare you moan his name for someone else? Whisper desperate I love yous to the wrong version of him? Come undone beneath a man who wears his face but isn’t him?

And after you told him it was fine—that you were fine—staying just friends. After you swallowed every aching, desperate feeling just to keep him close. But in the end, you gave in. You let temptation pull you under. You let yourself have him—or the closest thing to him. And now, there’s no taking it back.

You know you’re wrong.

You know time is running out.

And you know that when he says he’ll take care of everything, this Mark intends to kill your Mark—just as your Mark wants to kill him.

But your body betrays you—mind foggy, muscles lax with satisfaction, the afterglow pulling you under. As consciousness fades, this not-quite-Mark draws you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. His breathing steadies, his solid frame surrounding you in deceptive safety.

(And vaguely, you think about your Mark. About how he’s been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasn’t looked at you the same.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” he’d say, a week ago, his eyes avoiding yours in a way that pains you. “I promise I’ll tell you the truth. All of it. And—”

Then he’d looked up, and something in his gaze pinned you there—fervent, almost feverish.

“I’ll—” he’d stop himself, cheeks coloring faintly, and yet he wouldn’t relent his steady gaze. ”I’ll tell you the reason I’ve been acting like such an asshole to you. And I hope...you can forgive me after.”

“Why not now?” you’d ask, puzzled, fingers curling into your palms. ”Why not when I’m asking you, Mark? Right here, and right now.”

He’d flinch, his eyes closing for a fleeting second before opening them again. ”Just—gimme one more week,” he’d rasped. “One more week and—I promise I’ll tell you everything. I’ll—confess everything.”

And as he’d turn around, his broad back to you as he’d take off—not before glancing at you with troubled eyes, an intensity in his eyes you can’t quite place—you’d only guess he’s gonna say he hates you. That he’s gonna say, now once and for all, he can no longer be your friend.

And how you should’ve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. How you should’ve never, ever opened your big mouth and let your feelings spill out.

But you did, and now nothing’s the same.)

“I’ll take care of it,” Mark murmurs again as you drift away, his voice a dark promise. “Never gonna lose you again. Never.”

The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek.

And in the final flicker of consciousness, a single thought drifts through your mind— You wished Mark had told you the reason.

Now, he never might.

[loafysainz]

🎥 HANDING MY BOYFRIEND MY PANTIES AT DINNER AND GET HIS REACTION

carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, lando norris, max verstappen, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, george russell × reader! warn: 18+, smut, minor dni insp by this trend

Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz was a patient man.

But not when it came to you.

He had spent the entire evening watching you, his dark brown eyes tracking your every move. The way your lips wrapped around the rim of your wine glass, the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs under the table, the way you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the barest hint of cleavage.

Carlos had been holding himself back. Barely.

And you? You were about to push him past his limit.

The restaurant was elegant—low lights, soft music, the hum of quiet conversations surrounding you. Carlos sat across from you, dressed in a perfectly tailored black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, veins prominent as he lazily toyed with his glass. He looked so effortlessly sexy, so unfairly attractive, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you could push him.

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding, as you subtly reached under the table. You hooked your fingers into your panties, slowly, discreetly, slipping them down your legs, the cool air against your bare skin making you shiver.

Carlos was oblivious, swirling his wine, licking his lips as he studied the menu.

And then—casually, with a small smirk—you reached across the table and placed your panties in his hand.

Carlos froze.

His fingers curled around the fabric instinctively before he even realized what he was holding. He blinked, looking down at his palm.

A beat of silence.

Then another.

And then—oh, fuck.

His entire body tensed. His jaw clenched so hard you thought it might crack. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a sharp breath, his grip tightening around the delicate lace like he was resisting the urge to crush it in his fist.

Slowly—so slowly—Carlos lifted his eyes to meet yours.

Dark. Heavy. Predatory.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.

And then—his voice, deep, low, almost a growl—

“Dime que no hiciste lo que creo que hiciste.” (Tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did.)

You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent. “What do you think I did, cariño?”

Carlos inhaled sharply, his fingers flexing around the lace before he shoved it into the pocket of his trousers. His knee bounced under the table, his entire body buzzing with tension. He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head with a dark chuckle.

“You’re testing me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sipped your drink, biting back a smirk. “Maybe.”

Carlos exhaled a slow, measured breath. His fingers tapped against the table, his eyes flickering down to your lap, realization sinking in.

“No panties,” he murmured. His voice was rough, thick with something dangerously close to desperation. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat like he was physically struggling to stay put.

You crossed your legs slowly, watching the way his jaw ticked. “Mmm.”

Carlos let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Eres un problema, ¿lo sabes?” (You’re a fucking problem, you know that?)

He adjusted in his seat, exhaling harshly. “Now I have to sit here. In this restaurant. Acting normal. While I know you’re sitting there…” His voice dropped, dark, his accent thickening. “All wet. All needy.” He licked his lips, eyes burning with heat. “For me.”

Your breath hitched.

Carlos saw. And smirked.

His knee suddenly pressed against your thigh under the table, firm and possessive, making your pulse skyrocket.

“I should drag you to the bathroom right now,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration. “Make you sit on my lap. Make you ride me slow. Until you can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your entire body burned.

Carlos chuckled darkly at your reaction. “Oh, you like that idea?” He tilted his head, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Would you like it, hmm? Biting your lip, trying not to moan? Knowing that if you make one sound, everyone in this restaurant will know what I’m doing to you?”

You clenched your thighs together instinctively, and Carlos noticed.

His smirk widened, his knee pressing even firmer against you.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“You started this game, amor.” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Your stomach flipped.

Carlos sat back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, looking like the picture of relaxation—except for the way

his hands curled into fists, like he was using every ounce of self-control to stop himself from grabbing you.

“You better eat fast,” he muttered, his leg still pressed against yours, his eyes still devouring you.

“Because the second we leave this restaurant?” His voice was gravelly, dripping with hunger.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

—

Lewis Hamilton

Dinner with Lewis was always an experience. He had impeccable taste—whether it was in fashion, cars, or five-star restaurants with private dining rooms that catered to the elite. Tonight was no different. The restaurant was dimly lit, with an intimate atmosphere and a view of the Monaco harbor glistening under the night sky.

Lewis sat across from you, wearing a tailored suit with no tie, the top few buttons of his crisp shirt undone to reveal just a hint of his tattoos. He looked like a damn dream—effortlessly cool, his jewelry catching the soft candlelight, his full lips curving into a smirk as he listened to you talk.

And you? You were about to make things very, very interesting.

The idea had been teasing you all night. The way Lewis had kept his hand on your thigh during the car ride here, the way his deep, smooth voice sent shivers down your spine, the way he knew he was irresistible and used it against you. It was time to turn the tables.

You shifted in your seat, pretending to adjust your dress while slipping your panties down your thighs, letting the lace pool at your ankles before discreetly stepping out of them. You balled them in your hand, heart racing with anticipation.

Lewis was mid-sentence, swirling his wine glass lazily, when you reached across the table and placed the delicate fabric in his palm.

His fingers closed around it instinctively before realization set in.

He blinked, lifting his hand slightly under the table, his expression unreadable at first. And then—oh, then—that signature smirk spread across his lips, slow and devastatingly sexy. His tongue flicked out to wet them, eyes dragging from the panties to your face, amusement flickering behind the heat in his gaze.

“You’re bold tonight, love.” His voice was low, almost a purr.

You took a sip of your champagne, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Lewis exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

His fingers tightened around the lace before slipping them discreetly into the pocket of his blazer.

He leaned forward, his gaze dark and smoldering. “So, what’s the plan, then? You expect me to just sit here, act normal, knowing you’re sitting across from me with nothing underneath that little dress?”

Your lips curled. “That was the idea.”

Lewis chuckled, the deep sound sending a shiver down your spine. He adjusted in his seat, exhaling sharply. “You’re playin’ dangerous, babe.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” You batted your lashes at him, knowing full well you were poking the bear.

Lewis’s jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to your lips before flicking back up. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of wine, his demeanor calm—too calm. That was the most dangerous sign of all.

The waiter arrived, placing your entrées in front of you, completely unaware of the silent war happening at this table.

Lewis picked up his fork, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running through his mind.

But then—oh, fuck.

You felt the softest brush against your thigh.

Your breath hitched.

Lewis smirked, casually cutting into his steak like he wasn’t dragging his fingers up the inside of your leg beneath the table, like he wasn’t making his way higher and higher with every passing second.

You shot him a glare, shifting in your seat, but that only made him chuckle. “Something wrong?” he asked, voice innocent.

Bastard.

His fingers brushed the apex of your thighs, barely teasing the sensitive skin, and you had to fight the urge to clamp your legs shut.

You inhaled sharply, gripping your fork a little tighter. “You’re really gonna do this here?”

Lewis tilted his head, lips curving. “You started it.”

His touch disappeared just as quickly as it came, leaving you throbbing, your skin hot, your body desperate for more.

And that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

Lewis sat back, stretching out his legs, the picture of relaxed confidence. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned in slightly.

“When we get back to the hotel…” His voice was a dark promise, smooth as silk. “You better be ready for me, baby.”

Your stomach flipped, heat coiling low in your belly.

Oh, you were so screwed.

Dinner suddenly felt like a countdown to something far more delicious. And by the way Lewis kept stealing glances at you—like he was barely holding himself back—you had a feeling he wouldn’t be ordering dessert.

At least, not at the restaurant.

—

Lando Norris

Dinner with Lando was never boring.

He had a way of making everything fun—whether it was cracking jokes, teasing you, or finding little ways to touch you every chance he got. Tonight was no different. You were at a high-end restaurant in Monaco, overlooking the water, Lando sipping on his cocktail as he playfully nudged your foot under the table.

He looked good—hair slightly tousled, wearing a fitted black suit with no tie, the crisp white of his shirt accentuating his tan skin. The top two buttons were undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of his collarbone.

And right now? He had no idea what was coming.

So, you decided it was time to turn the tables.

The restaurant was buzzing with quiet conversations, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the table, and Lando? He was completely oblivious, sipping his drink, scrolling through the menu, looking criminally good in his tailored black suit.

You took a slow breath, pretending to shift in your seat, your hands disappearing beneath the table. Your pulse thrummed as you hooked your fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs, over your heels, and slipping them into your palm.

And then—casually, innocently—you reached across the table and pressed them into his hand.

Lando took them instinctively, still half-distracted, his thumb brushing over the fabric—soft, lacy, unmistakably not something that belonged in a restaurant.

He froze.

His blue eyes flicked down at his hand, then up at you.

His breath hitched. “No.” His voice was a strangled whisper. He blinked, like his brain couldn’t quite process what just happened. He looked back down at the lace, gripping it between his fingers, and then back at you—eyes wide, pupils blown.

“No fucking way.”

You just took a sip of your drink, acting

completely unfazed. “Something wrong?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his curls. “Are you—” He exhaled sharply. “You didn’t just—” His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. “Tell me you’re fucking with me right now.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head.

Lando’s jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. His grip on the panties tightened before he hastily shoved them into the pocket of his blazer, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every single urge running through his body.

His leg bounced under the table. He dragged his hands down his face. “You—” He let out a low, breathy laugh, but it was strained, like he was hanging on by a thread.

“You little—” His voice cut off, his head tilting back slightly as he inhaled through his nose.

You could see it. The shift. The way his entire demeanor darkened. The way his hands clenched into fists like he didn’t trust himself to keep them to himself.

And then, he leaned forward, eyes locked onto you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

The waiter arrived at that exact moment, asking if you needed more wine, completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown Lando was having in real-time.

Lando barely glanced at him, his jaw clenched so tight his words were almost clipped. “No. We’re good.”

The moment the waiter left, Lando shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I hope you realize,” he muttered, “that I now have to sit through this entire dinner with a fucking hard-on.”

You smirked. “Poor baby.”

His eye twitched.

His knee suddenly pressed against the inside of your thigh under the table, firm, possessive, making you inhale sharply.

Lando smirked at your reaction, his fingers twitching as if debating whether or not to reach for you. “No panties. Just sitting there. All pretty. Knowing what you just did to me.” His voice was dark. Husky. “You’re playing a dangerous fucking game.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly, pressing your thighs together, and Lando noticed. His smirk widened.

“Ohhh,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You think you’re in control here?”

He leaned in, voice dropping even lower, lips barely an inch from your ear.

“Just wait till we get back to the hotel, baby,” he whispered. “I’m gonna make sure you feel what you just did to me.”

Heat coiled in your stomach.

Lando sat back, stretching his legs out, exhaling slowly. His fingers drummed against the table, his eyes flickering over your body, taking his time, like he was memorizing you.

“Eat your dinner, baby.” he muttered, shifting in his seat again, adjusting himself. “After we done this. You’re mine.”

Your entire body burned.

And suddenly, dinner felt like the longest fucking event of your life.

—

Charles Leclerc

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Charles Leclerc was the perfect mix of sweet and sinful—soft when he loved you, but intense when he wanted you. He could melt you with just a smile, but when he needed you? When you pushed him too far? That was when he became dangerous.

Tonight, you were playing with fire.

The restaurant was romantic—low lights, soft music, a flickering candle between you. Charles looked breathtaking across the table, his white button-down slightly unbuttoned, his hair tousled in that effortless way that made your fingers itch to run through it. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light, his lips curling in a small, amused smile as he sipped his wine.

You wanted to see how far you could push him.

So, while Charles was distracted, you reached under the table. Your fingers brushed the hem of your dress, heart racing as you slowly—so slowly—slid your panties down your legs. The soft lace glided over your thighs, your knees, pooling at your ankles before you kicked them off.

Charles was still flipping through the menu, completely oblivious.

You swallowed a smirk, reached across the table, and—without a word—placed the fabric in his open palm.

Charles didn’t react at first.

Then—

His fingers froze.

His eyes flickered down, scanning the lace in his palm, his lips parting slightly.

Then—very slowly—he lifted his gaze to yours.

His breath hitched.

His jaw tensed.

His entire body went rigid.

“Mon amour…” His voice was a whisper, but there was something different about it. Something deep, something dark.

You tilted your head innocently. “Yes, baby?”

Charles exhaled sharply, his hand disappearing under the table as he shoved the panties into his pocket. His fingers twitched against the fabric, his entire body suddenly filled with nervous energy.

“No.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, you—” His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat, leaning forward.

“You are telling me…” His accent was thicker now, deeper, as he swallowed hard. “That you are sitting here. With nothing under your dress.”

You nodded, biting back a smirk.

Charles groaned. His head fell back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he muttered something very fast in French under his breath.

Then he looked back at you—his pupils blown, his breath uneven.

“Baby,” he whispered. His voice was soft, but there was a raw edge to it. His hand found your knee under the table, his thumb brushing slow circles against your skin. The touch was gentle, but his grip was firm.

Possessive.

His fingers inched higher.

You gasped softly.

Charles inhaled sharply, his hand freezing before it could go any higher. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white.

“No,” he muttered. “No, I can’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling harshly.

His eyes were burning.

“You’re making this very difficult for me, mon amour.”

You smirked. “That’s the idea.”

Charles let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Incroyable.” (Unbelievable.)

Then—so suddenly—he grabbed his napkin and dropped it on the floor.

“Oh,” he muttered, completely unconvincing. “How clumsy of me.”

Your eyes widened. “Charles, don’t—”

Too late.

He dipped under the table.

Your heart stopped.

“Charles—” Your breath hitched as you felt the ghost of his lips brush against the inside of your knee.

Then higher.

And higher.

Your entire body tensed.

His hands rested on your thighs, warm and steady, his breath hot against your bare skin.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

“Charles,” you whispered, barely breathing.

His voice came from under the table, low and teasing. “What is it, chérie?”

Your hands gripped the tablecloth, panic and desire swirling together in your chest. “You need to come up.”

He hummed. “Do I?”

His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh.

Your breathing stuttered. “Charles—”

Then—

A loud noise from the kitchen made him jolt.

His head smacked against the underside of the table.

“Merde!” (Fuck!)

He shot up so fast he nearly knocked over his wine glass, his cheeks flushed, his hair messy, his lips red.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Charles groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “I hate you.”

You giggled. “You love me.”

His eyes darkened.

“Oh, mon amour,” he murmured, leaning forward, his voice dripping with promise.

“You will regret this when we get home.”

Your stomach flipped.

Charles smirked.

Then he picked up his menu, casually flipping through it like he hadn’t just been under the table.

Like he wasn’t still rock hard.

Like he wasn’t about to absolutely destroy you the second you were alone.

You swallowed hard.

You were so screwed.

—

Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen was competitive in everything.

On the track, he was ruthless. In life, he always wanted to win. But in the bedroom?

He didn’t just compete—he owned.

And tonight, you were playing with fire.

The restaurant was high-end, filled with soft chatter and the occasional clink of wine glasses. Max sat across from you, looking effortlessly sexy in a black dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, his strong forearms resting on the table. His blue eyes flickered up from his menu, locking onto yours with that signature intensity.

“Why are you smirking?” he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached under the table, heart pounding as you hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties. Slowly—so slowly—you slid them down, feeling the lace brush against your bare skin.

Max had no idea what was coming.

Once the fabric was off, you balled it up in your hand and reached across the table. “Here,” you said casually, dropping the delicate lace into his palm.

Max’s brows furrowed. His fingers curled around the fabric, and then—

His entire body went still.

His grip tightened.

His jaw locked.

You saw the exact moment realization hit. His ocean-blue eyes darkened, flickering between the panties in his hand and you, sitting there, completely bare under your dress.

Max inhaled sharply. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was low—dangerously low.

You leaned forward, eyes playful. “Something wrong, baby?”

Max’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers disappearing under the table. He shoved the panties into his pocket so fast you almost laughed. His

other hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

“Tell me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Are you sitting here, at this table, with nothing under that dress?”

You nodded.

His nostrils flared.

“Jesus Christ.”

You smirked. “Cat got your tongue, Max?”

His gaze snapped to yours, and suddenly, the air between you changed.

The playful energy shifted into something heavier.

Something dangerous.

Max leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. “You think this is funny?”

You shrugged, enjoying the way his grip tightened on the table, his breath growing uneven. “A little.”

He exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching so tight it looked painful.

Then—so suddenly—he sat back, a slow, wicked smirk curling his lips.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Game on, liefje.” (Sweetheart.)

Your stomach flipped.

Max shifted in his seat, stretching his legs

out under the table—until his knee pressed firmly between your thighs. Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as he applied the lightest pressure.

Your eyes widened. “Max—”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “What? Something wrong?”

His knee pressed harder.

You swallowed hard, your breath stuttering as heat flooded your body. “You’re evil.”

He grinned, completely unbothered. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you get away with this.”

His fingers drummed casually against the table as he continued, voice slow and taunting. “You know, I was going to take my time with you tonight.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “But now?”

His voice dropped even lower.

“Now, I have no choice but to ruin you.”

Your entire body shivered.

Max smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing.

His knee pressed higher, his strong thigh now between your legs, keeping you right where he wanted you. “Look at you,” he mused, his accent thick, teasing. “So quiet all of a sudden. Where’s that bratty attitude now, huh?”

You glared at him, but the effect was lost

when your breath hitched at the way he was touching you.

Max chuckled darkly. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

Your mouth went dry.

Max picked up his menu, pretending to study it, but his knee stayed right where it was.

The worst part?

He acted like nothing was happening.

Like he wasn’t pressing you against the chair.

Like he wasn’t completely hard under the table.

Like he wasn’t planning a thousand ways to make you pay for this

the second you were alone.

You shifted in your seat, desperate for some relief.

Max caught it immediately. His grip on the table tightened, his breathing sharp.

Then—so quietly only you could hear—he whispered, “Do that again, and I swear to God, I’ll drag you into the bathroom right now.”

You froze.

Max’s smirk was lazy, but his eyes?

His eyes were pure fire.

—

Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri was a problem.

No, Oscar was a problem because he was impossible to read.

When he was mad, he didn’t explode—he got quiet. When he was turned on, he didn’t stumble over his words or blush—he became dangerous.

And tonight?

You had just challenged him.

The restaurant was sleek and modern, the

kind of place that matched Oscar’s cool, composed energy. He sat across from you, dressed simply in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the veins on his forearms. His fingers tapped against the table absentmindedly as he scrolled through the wine menu, completely unaware of what was coming.

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding as you reached beneath the table. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid your panties down, feeling the soft lace brush over your thighs, your knees—until they were off completely.

Then, with a calm smile, you reached across the table.

“Here,” you murmured, dropping the delicate fabric into his open palm.

Oscar didn’t react immediately.

His fingers curled around the lace, his grip firm but unreadable. His eyes flickered down, scanning the fabric like it was nothing more than a business card someone had handed him.

Then, finally, he looked at you.

And fuck.

His brown eyes were steady, calculating—sharp.

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t smirk, didn’t blush, didn’t flinch.

He just… stared.

Long enough that you shifted in your seat, suddenly less sure about what you’d just done.

Then—slowly—he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

His voice was quiet. Calm.

“You’re not wearing anything under that dress.”

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “No.”

He hummed, nodding slightly as he tucked the panties into his pocket like they were nothing. Then he picked up his menu, flipping through it as if this was just another casual dinner.

Your stomach flipped.

That was it? No teasing? No reaction?

Oscar glanced up, catching your slight frown. His lips curled into the smallest smirk.

“You expected me to crack, didn’t you?”

You hesitated. “Maybe.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

You blinked. “I—”

Oscar shut his menu, setting it aside. Then—so suddenly—he reached across the

table, gripping your wrist. Not rough. Not forceful.

But firm.

His thumb brushed against your pulse.

You knew he could feel how fast it was racing.

His voice dropped, calm and cold.

“You think you can just hand me your panties and expect me to lose control?”

You swallowed.

His grip tightened.

“No, baby.” His voice was deadly soft. “That’s not how this works.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oscar exhaled through his nose, sitting back like he wasn’t currently ruining your entire life with just his voice.

Then—just to be cruel—he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice so only you could hear.

“I’m going to finish my drink.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Then we’re going to leave.”

Your thighs clenched together.

Oscar smirked. He noticed.

“And when we get home,” he murmured, “you’re going to get on your knees and apologize.”

Your breath hitched.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered, picking up his glass and taking a slow sip.

Then, just for fun, he tilted his head and smirked.

“Still think this was a good idea?”

You were so screwed.

—

George Russell

George Russell was a gentleman.

Polite. Well-mannered. The kind of man who held doors open, pulled out your chair, and kissed the back of your hand just to see you blush.

But there was a danger in that charm.

Because underneath all that posh, British elegance?

George was ruthless.

And tonight?

You were about to learn just how much.

The restaurant was candlelit, expensive, and filled with the quiet hum of conversation. George sat across from you, impossibly handsome in a tailored navy

suit, the top two buttons of his shirt undone just enough to tease. His Rolex gleamed under the soft light as he picked up his wine glass, fingers wrapping around the stem with effortless grace.

You watched him, heart pounding, as you slowly—deliberately—slid your hands under the table.

George didn’t notice at first. He was reading the menu, his brows slightly furrowed, completely unaware that you were currently slipping off your panties in the middle of a five-star restaurant.

Your breath hitched as you finally pulled them free, the delicate lace pooling in your hand.

“George.”

Then, with a coy smile, you reached across the table.

He looked up, eyes warm. “Yes, darling?”

You placed your panties in his open palm.

George blinked.

His fingers curled around the lace, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely unreadable.

Then—so slowly—his lips parted, his tongue briefly darting out to wet them.

His jaw ticked.

You smirked. “Something wrong?”

You saw the exact second realization hit—the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his grip tightening just slightly around the fabric.

George exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You are unbelievable.”

You leaned in, tilting your head. “Why? Is Mr. Russell flustered?”

His eyes darkened.

“No,” he murmured, voice low. “I’m just debating whether I should take you home right now or make you suffer first.”

Your stomach dropped.

You watched him, heart pounding.

George sighed dramatically, slipping the lace into his suit pocket like it was just another accessory. Then, as if nothing happened, he picked up his wine glass and took a slow, deliberate sip.

The way his jaw clenched as he swallowed. The way his fingers tapped against the table—controlled, measured. The way he refused to break eye contact.

Then—so suddenly you almost gasped—he leaned forward, his voice silky smooth.

“Tell me something, darling,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Are you currently sitting there, at this table, with nothing under that pretty little dress?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

George grinned.

Not his usual, charming smile.

This was something else.

Something dangerous.

“Good girl.”

Your breath hitched.

George hummed, pleased with your reaction. He reached for his drink again, bringing it to his lips before pausing—his smirk deepening.

Then—so casually it ruined you—he whispered, “Spread your legs.”

Your eyes widened. “George—”

“Shh.” He took a slow sip of wine, eyes twinkling with pure amusement. “You wanted to play, love. Now be a good girl and listen.”

Heat flooded your body.

You hesitated for half a second too long.

George raised a brow. “I’m waiting.”

Your breath came in short, uneven bursts as you obeyed, shifting slightly in your seat, thighs parting under the table.

George’s smirk turned positively wicked.

“Such a good girl.”

Your entire body shuddered.

He leaned back, completely unbothered, pretending to scan the menu.

Meanwhile, you were a mess. Your skin burned. Your pulse raced. Your thighs trembled because holy shit—he wasn’t even touching you, and yet, you were completely at his mercy.

Then—just to ruin you—George tilted his head, voice smooth as silk.

“You know,” he mused, “I was planning on taking my time with you tonight.”

You clenched your fists in your lap.

He grinned. “But now?”

He placed his menu down.

“Now, I think I’ll take you home and remind you exactly who’s in charge.”

Your breath hitched.

George chuckled, reaching for his drink once more.

Then, with a wink, he murmured,

“Finish your wine, darling. You’re going to need it.”

END

hshshshsh idk why but my drafts keep posting themselves?? Like, I’m literally just editing them then it suddenly posted?!? And if not that, sometimes my drafts just disappear :( like wtf?? hshshshs its soooo annoying.

[sundives]

Anti-hero ✶ sjy.

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.

Summary: Jake Sim has gained his status as Decelis University's "golden boy." Intelligent, a good track of extracurriculars and organization, and did I mention good-looking? He's the front-runner to become the batch's valedictorian, and everything seems to be perfect in that way.

"You need to get laid," his roommates pointed out one day, ruining his perfectly planned college life. Thinking that his roommates were just looking out for him, Jake found himself in a world that he seems to be unfamiliar with — having a fuck buddy, and that's with a little help from you, Decelis University's "golden girl."

✰ Song Inspiration: Anti-hero by Taylor Swift, Strong Girl by Niki, The Bolter by Taylor Swift (trust me, there’s a reason why this is my song inspo.)

✰ Word Count: 26.5k (damn.)

✰ Tags: Fuck buddies to lovers, no strings attached, plot with porn, a bit of fluff and angst, some hurt/comfort, college au, scandals and rumors, Jake’s POV (but there’s some POV switching somewhere), Jake Sim is a T, (he’s so serious with everything and it’s fucking hot tbh) reader has imposter syndrome, (actually reader is also a T), they have nicknames for each other, mentions of enhypen members, OC characters. Huh Yunjin and oc character as Jake’s roommate.

✰ CW: smut, plot with porn, sub! reader, dom! jake, BIG DICK JAKE RAHHHHHH, consensual noncon (proceed with caution.) choking, oral (m receiving) public sex, shower sex, car sex, praise, kinda dirty talk, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), use of condom…once, creampies, aftercare, cockwarming, just filthy smut, they’re so chaotic during sex.

✰ Asul’s note: Jake’s story is here! I was so in love with his character in My Kink Is Karma, and here we are now. I've tried hard with this plot and is a bit unsatisfied so I hope you'll love his story. Warning but proceed with caution since there’s a part that explicitly shows consensual noncon. Read with caution. But shitty smut ahead since I gave up detailing it midway.

Also if you have read Heeseung and Jay’s story, (If you haven’t you can check their story!) Their gfs are also the reader, but I gave them names here in Jake’s story because they have a lot of cameos in this fic. (They’re still considered as y/n in their own story.) Yeah, kinda confusing start because this wasn’t really supposed to be a series from the start, but here we are! The fourth installment of Arcanum series! Enjoy reading! :D

You can check the other member's stories here: Jay | Sunghoon | Heeseung

✰ Taglist: @kiikiisblog @chuuyaobsessed @dearestdreamies @jakessrealwife @heeseungsgf26 @kamiliora @st4rg1rlies @fancypeacepersona @k1ttyjwon @yazmike @dulcetnostalgia

-

The last semester of the year had arrived. The air in Decelis falls coolly as spring season is about to arrive, mixing with the remnants of the cold winter, the university welcomed the students for the second semester of the academic year. 

Wearing their jackets and coats to their first day of class, Decelis University became warm as noise filled the campus. Students meeting their friends, teachers smiling as they greet their students welcome back, and couples holding hands like they’re in their own world. 

At one of the gates of Decelis, three students ran their way inside the campus, bright laughter escaping their lips as they stopped midway to catch their breath, not even caring for the students they halted on the walkway.

“Text us if you’re done okay?” Yunjin said, patting Jake’s shoulders. “We’ll be going now!”

“Bye guys,” Jake hugs his roommates before he turns around to walk towards an opposite direction — towards his department building. 

Clean and ironed uniform, his school id hung loosely around his uniform’s collar along with his neat tie which Jake, himself tied for a good minute. His square, black-rimmed glasses rested idly on his buttoned nose that complimented his overall visual. With the way he walked, his short black hair neat and proper, and how casual his smile was, it wasn’t hard for students to turn their head towards him. 

Sim Jaeyun or Jake Sim for others, is Decelis University’s “Golden Boy.” The top student of the engineering department, president of the student aid organization, a member of Decelis physics club, former soccer player — the list goes on.

No one can top his intelligence and achievements. Records full of 1 and a good moral track. He is considered as a well-disciplined student, that even the teachers love him because he’s not some top student who befriends teachers for the sake of grades. Jake was naturally intelligent and diligent in his studies. Not to mention, he has a warm aura around him, although Jake always wears a small smile or neutral expression, he is considered approachable among his peers. 

As he entered the classroom, eyes darted to him. Smile and warm greetings which he only reciprocated before sitting on the first row near the entrance. His usual seat wherein it’s enough for him to sprint out the moment the bell rings. 

With the last semester of their college life starting, professors are preparing them for all the possibilities — Latin honors, failed subjects due to unreasonable reasons, even suspension, anything that may happen in the span of five months. Jake could only listen to their professor, who also just happens to be the Dean of their department, explain everything that they should look forward to for their last days in college.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be reacting largely compared to his classmates. His mind is thinking of his post-graduation plans — have a one-week beach trip with his friends. Go home to Australia for a break, then return to the city to review and take the board exam to get his engineering license. Get a job with a high-paying salary, and find a girlfriend somewhere there if he has time. All the usual shit that he had planned ever since he was a freshman. 

Jake has always been a planner. His perfect college life was curated based on his schedule and time, and so far, everything is coming into pieces. All he need was to not fuck-up his presidency term, attain latin honors, and follow his plan without any distractions or new ventures.

“We’re rooting for you Jake,” their department dean laughs. A bright smile was only Jake could give as the old man pats his back. “No one can top your excellence, not only in our department, but the whole university.”

“Thank you for the kind words sir,” Jake answered, having heard that since last year. 

“That valedictorian is for you, and I’m going to use all my powers to make sure that it’ll be yours,” with a short pat on his back, Jake watched as the Department Dean walked away. His smile immediately turns into a thin line as he returns back to his classroom.

Jake Sim never planned to become the valedictorian of their batch — nor did he work hard to become Decelis’ “Golden Boy.” It just so happens that he has a lot of extracurriculars, is smart, and probably has a good personality, hence, giving him that unofficial title. There were a lot of contenders for that title, that’s why Jake wondered why it was given to him. Maybe it just happens that everyone fawns over him. 

He didn’t mind the attention, but it did place a lot of pressure on him. It meant that everyone is watching every move he makes, and he knows being known meant one thing — one wrong move may cause your entire downfall. But it’s not like he’s going to do some rash actions, Jake knows he’s not stupid to put himself in trouble. 

After class, Jake finds himself in the club room of the student aid organization, which is just an information and help center for students and incoming students, except it’s being led by students. Jake volunteered to become part of it since it helped him tremendously when he was just a lost, foreign student back in his freshman year — never would he think that he’ll end up as its president. 

But it feels nice helping other students, everyone in the organization is a helping hand, and the overall vibe was healthy and light. That’s why instead of stressing himself with the grievances, Jake finds joy in the organization. 

As he opened the door, the place was a bit crowded. Some students need some help while his staff are busy helping them. Jake greets them warmly, asking if there’s any problem and so far, everything’s good. 

Jake sat by the table beside Jiwon, who’s the executive assistant of his team. A smile greeted him as he placed his bag down. 

“Most of them are just problems regarding enrollment and transfers, you know, the usual problem we encounter during the first few weeks of the sem,” the girl explained as soon as Jake sat on the table. Having worked together since freshman, they’ve memorized each other that Jiwon knew what to do without Jake giving her instruction.

“They’re fewer than last sem, thank god because last sem was stressful,” Jake muttered which only left a chuckle on Jiwon’s lips. 

“Well, we got new students last semester, that’s why it was stressful,” Jiwon replied. “Oh by the way, I’ll be clocking out around four-thirty.”

“Let me guess, you have a date with Heeseung?” Jake pointed out, and only a blush on the cheeks was her answer. “You know, you didn’t have to tell me all of this.”

“I have to, what if you keep looking for me!? You can barely function without me.” the girl teased making Jake smile. He knows himself that he can't function without his assistant.

“Shut up, I can handle all of this, go have fun with your date.”

Work continued until one by one, his staff told him that they’ll be going now. Same excuse from them — dates, hanging out with friends, even family events, which Jake doesn’t mind. He knows that the organization shouldn’t be their top priority. It’s just an extracurricular for extra credits and something that you can put in your work resume. 

Jake remained alone inside the club room. The soft lofi music coming from his laptop serves as a noise while he sorts the reports. The sun is about to set and he’s on the last grievance that they received today. After this, he’ll be meeting his roommates by the Pho stall for dinner. 

Jake looks towards the window, watching the campus life unfold in front of him. He sees a group of friends laughing with each other, some are by the benches eating some snacks. He watches as teachers run their way towards their next class, while some student couples are having too much display of affection. A bitter smile formed on his lips as he realized that he’s alone inside the club room.

Will his remaining months in Decelis be like this? Jake feels like his college life is missing something. Is it the thrill? The fun? But he has friends though. They go out and drink during their free time. He parties when he can. That’s the thrill right? Jake stopped his task, deeply pondering on his thoughts.

“And it irritates me,” Jake opened up. 

The coffee table is filled with opened bags of chips. Empty bottles of soju scattered on the floor, while cans of beer remained on the table. On the couch sat Yunjin, Aera, and Jake who are all huddled up, alcohol on their system.

“So let me get this straight,” Yunjin started, sitting upwards to glance at Jake. “You, Mr. Decelis University’s Golden Boy, is lacking something? Dude you’ve got it all, what else is missing!?”

“I don’t know either! That’s why I’m telling you guys this!” Jake frustratedly shouted.

Aera laughs loudly, before clapping her hands as she points at Jake. “I know what it is!”

“That sounds like a bad idea.” Jake commented.

“You need to get laid!” Aera delightedly announced.

Jake cringed, “Yeah, bad idea.”

“No it’s not! You probably have a lot of pent-up frustrations in your body! Jake, when was the last time you even jerked off?” Aera boldly asked, Jake scrunches his nose out of disgust while Yunjin laughs out loud. 

“We’re absolutely not going to talk about that.” he takes a chug on his beer while Aera rolls her eyes. 

“Come on, it’s scientifically proven that having orgasms can release serotonin or whatever happy hormones we have, but you get my point!”

Aera continued laughing, while Yunjin and Jake only remained quiet, convincing themselves that their roommate is so drunk that she started to blurt random stuff. 

“She’s just telling that because she has a boyfriend now,” Jake explained, before taking a few chips. 

“Well she’s not wrong,” Yunjin asked, making Jake side-eye her. “Having sex can be a form of stress reliever. I bet that you have a lot of stress in your body that parties and alcohol cannot relieve.”

“And you guys think that sex is the answer?”

“What else is the answer? You used to love sleeping around back when we were freshmen, you were so carefree back then and now, you look…so pent-up Jake. I know that you have a lot on your sleeve right now, but that’s probably why you don’t notice that you’re pent-up. You need to loosen up! Find romance and pleasure!” Aera spoke enthusiastically. 

“I am not getting myself a girlfriend during the last semester of my college, do you know that college couples tend to break up after graduation?” Jake stated.

“And I hope that doesn’t happen to me and Jay, but Jake, you don’t need a girlfriend, maybe you just need someone who you only exclusively hookup with.” Aera rebutted.

“Like a fuck buddy?” Yunjin asked.

“Yeah, a fuck buddy! There’s nothing wrong with it, you have a fuck buddy Yunjin right?” Aera pointed out. 

“Oh right, I can vouch for that. Remember Chaewon? Yeah, we were fuck buddies since sophomore.” Yunjin casually shared, making Jake glance at her, surprised. 

“Up until now? I thought you two were together?” and that sentence made Yunjin laugh.

“We’re not. It’s a no-string attached agreement. We only meet each other to have sex, that’s the agreement! No dates, no emotional attachment. Just sex.” Yunjin explained. 

Jake becomes quiet for a moment. His roommates made some points. Maybe he does need to get laid, or have sex, or maybe find a fuck buddy who can relief all his stress. Seeing that it doesn’t affect Yunjin at all with her long-time fuck buddy, maybe it can be applied to him too. 

He’s not sure if it’ll work, but there’s no harm in trying, right? His roommates may be chaotic most of the time, but they know him from some angles that he doesn’t notice. 

“So, how do I even find that?” Jake asked, making his roommates freeze.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to do it?” Yunjin asked, appalled.

Jake shrugs, “well, if yours works, maybe it’ll work for me? I hope so?”

“Just go to a dating app, a lot of students use that — wait, let’s set it up for you.” Yunjin suggested, and the next thing they knew, they installed a popular dating app called Blind. Both roommates helped in creating Jake’s profile, something that will make him look decent, not just some random fuckboy. 

“Holy shit, this is so exciting! You’re finally getting some action Jake Sim!” Aera excitingly shouts, shaking Jake’s shoulder which only made the three of them laugh.

-

Jake stared at a profile of a girl. She’s fine, pretty, and shorter than him. She’s not from Decelis but she’s alright. He wondered if he should swipe left or right for a minute before swiping to the left. 

He found it impressive how Blind can show him preferences, starting from their height up to their intentions on the app. Yunjin wrote his profile as someone who’s looking for something casual, stating that if he placed that if he’s there for a hookup, he’ll end up looking like a horndog — which he wasn’t. 

Jake’s been in the app since last night. Yunjin helped him picked some girls along with Aera, and one thing he learned was that it was hard to find the right girl that he could ask to be his fuck buddy. He had matched with some other girls, took the courage to flirt (though most of the time Yunjin was the one who’s writing the message,) but it seems like it’s not working on his side.

“Hey pres!” a feminine voice greets, startling Jake who tightly grips on his phone.

Jake immediately closed his phone before looking up to see you standing there in front of him. You have a wide smile on your face. Makeup neat with an excessive amount of blush but it suits your round cheeks. Your black shoulder bag hangs on your left shoulder along with the trinkets and keychains on its handle.

If Jake Sim was Decelis University’s Golden Boy, you’re the female version of him — the Golden Girl. A senior communications student, you’re one of the top students of your department. You have a bright and friendly aura around you. During sophomore year, you welcomed students back when you were a radio jock in Decelis 1009 radio station which also led you to opportunities to host a lot of school events.

You’re also part of the student aid, a huge helping hand to other students that you’ve become its vice president this term. Last year, you were hailed as Decelis University’s “Selene.” which was a pageant to become Decelis University’s official student model and image. With your beauty and brains, along with your popularity, you’ve won the heart of every student and staff in the university. Which also hailed you the golden title. 

Although you and Jake hold the title, the two of you were never linked with each other. Both living in two different worlds, you two were only acquainted due to the student aid organization. Jake finds you nice, a bit talkative, but he sees that you have a lot of confidence and boldness in you. 

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Jake said sternly.

“I did remember sending you a message that I had a short interview at 1009 radio station,” you grinned before glancing at his phone. “You seem to be busy with something.”

“It’s nothing.” Jake answered immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, “Nothing really? Scrolling through a dating app during class hours? That’s so not you pres.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “How did you —”

“Funny, at first thought, someone is impersonating you but it really is you,” you said, hands resting on your hips as you looked at Jake teasingly. 

“What?” the boy asked, surprised.

You let out a small laugh before grabbing your phone. You opened your phone and showed Jake its screen — a screenshot of his Blind profile. You noticed how his eyes widened further, but as he glanced at you, his expression became neutral once again. 

“You’re there too?” Jake blurted out, and you amusingly tilted your head. 

“Why wouldn’t I be there? I use it when I’m bored and pent-up, it’s a place for hook-ups, not all are looking for serious relationships here.”

“What makes you think I’m looking for a serious relationship in Blind?” Jake rebutted. 

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. “You weren’t?”

Jake stares at you for a minute. He wonders if it’s worth sharing to someone he’s not that close to, but you seem to be open to this topic so he only clicks his tongue as he looks at his phone. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my friends, they convinced me that I need to get laid because I’m all stressed and they think sex is the solution.”

You stifled a laugh, but Jake’s expression never faltered, so you held yourself back but your grin was too obvious. “And you believed them?” 

“Never know until proven true, so yeah, here I am scrolling through hundreds of profiles until I find a decent girl who’s I don’t know, won’t be intimidated to have sex with me,” Jake casually explained. 

“I can do it for you.” you casually replied.

That’s when Jake glances back at you, who blinked at him innocently. He was waiting for you to say that you were joking, but you only smiled at him. 

“I’m not kidding pres, instead of finding another stranger who you have to make connections with, why don’t you go with someone who, let’s just say, is already acquainted with you?”

You made good points with your reason. The first problem Jake faced was finding a decent girl who he won’t be awkward with. Sex is still intimacy, and knowing that it’s been so long since he even touched a girl, he knows that this is a challenge to him. 

With you proposing to him, he quickly thought about it for a minute. You, who is ironically the girl version of him, is offering to be his fuck buddy. You seem to be chill about this one, and it did surprise him that you’re into this kind of setup. 

Noticing that the atmosphere has becoming too quiet, you only cleared your throat before saying, “I’ll give you time pres, but my offer still stands —”

“Wait,” Jake halted you immediately. “Sorry, I’m just really new to this kind of setup. This doesn’t make you uncomfy? Especially when we’re orgmates too.”

“Whatever happens inside the room, remains in the room. That’s my rule.” you smiled. “We can talk more about our setup of course, we’re not only complying with my rules, you should set boundaries too.”

“Okay,” Jake breathes, nodding as it seems like he’s set with having you as his fuck buddy. “How soon should we…you know?”

But you only laughed, “so you’re taking my offer huh?”

“This is better than finding some girls on Blind.” Jake reasoned out. “Let’s talk more tonight? How’s that sound?”

“Already? I don’t mind, if you’re already down to fuck, but you need to buy condoms for us,” you winked. “We got to stay safe pres.”

Jake would never have thought that conversation would lead him to cleaning their dorm. Their floor has always been clean since the three of them are clean freaks, but Jake has to make sure that it’s squeaky clean before you arrive. 

It was his first time clocking out of the organization on time too. His roommates coming home to him doing a last minute vacuuming on the floor. That’s when they realized what the hell was going on with their only male roommate. 

“I can’t believe that we were just talking about it last night and you already found one,” Aera spoke up while tying her shoes. 

“And here you are, kicking us out because your fuck buddy is coming,” Yunjin fakingly sobs.

To ease your first meeting, Jake bribed his roommates to have the flat all by himself for that night, (and fortunately, they agreed, knowing that they advised him to do so in the first place.) Jake knows where the two will end up staying the night, so it’s still a win for the three of them. 

“I’ll treat you guys with ice cream tomorrow, don't worry,” Jake compensated, sitting on the couch as he had changed into a shirt and sweatpants. His legs thumping nervously as he glanced at the clock. It’s almost 7:30 in the evening, which was your agreed time. 

And before his roommates could go, a ring on the doorbell stopped the three of them. Aera, who’s just near the door, opens it, surprising you who’s standing in front of the door. 

“Y/n hi!” Aera brightly greeted, having familiar with your face, before turning back at Jake, mouthing “what the fuck!?” 

Yunjin stood there frozen, surprised that Jake’s fuck buddy is none other than Decelis’ golden girl, talking about small world. It really has to be you out of the thousands of available girls in the city. She gasps in disbelief while Jake stood up from his seat. 

“Come in,” Jake gestured. Aera opens the door wider for you to step inside, both his female roommate stared at you making you wary. It didn’t cross your mind that Jake had female roommates, and that made you somehow confused with your setup with him. 

“Hi I’m Yunjin, and this is Aera, we’re Jake’s roommates, but don’t worry! We’ll be going out, you have the place all by yourself,” Yunjin greeted all of the sudden, and you felt embarrassed intruding on their place just because you can’t offer yours. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry for intruding too,” you immediately apologized but Yunjin only smiled as she and Aera grabbed their bags. 

“No worries for us! It’s been a while since Jake brought a girl to our place, so enjoy! We’ll see you guys at school!” Aera laughed, waving goodbye to the two of them before leaving the place. 

You stood there frozen before you turned around to see Jake groaning in disbelief. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “Why didn’t you just ask them —”

“Aera is Jay’s girlfriend, and Yunjin’s a lesbian.” Jake quickly explained. 

“Oh.” you’re not familiar with most of the students in Decelis. But you did remember that there was gossip last semester that Arcanum’s Jay was dating someone, and turns out, it’s Jake’s roommate. While you do recognize Yunjin since she’s part of Decelis Theater. 

“They’re the ones who told me to get laid.” Jake added. “They’re also like sisters to me, that’s why.” 

Another “Oh” escapes your lips. You thought that it’s those male friends of Jake that convinced him to this setup. Now, you found yourself in a more awkward situation. 

“Do you want some ramen?”

A moment of silence hovered between the two of you before you spoke. “What?”

“You seem tense, have you eaten dinner yet?” he offered, sounding genuine with his words. 

“Really — I mean, ramen?” you laughed because of his words. Usually, your casual hookups is just you showing up to your hookup’s place, fuck, and then go home. The usual quickie or sex wherein both bodies do the work, while your mouth sucks their dick instead of talking to them. No string attached, only bodily pleasures, and it works all the time.

But then again, this is the first time you and Jake will be meeting. Plus, this isn’t just a hookup, this is a fuck buddy set-up — a temporary monogamous situation for you. So you agreed, and that’s why you found yourself by the kitchen, watching Jake grab a pack of Buldak Carbonara, with him sharing you a homemade recipe of his. 

“So, how about we talk about it?” Jake suggested as he waits for the noodles to cook. “How do we even do this? I’m sorry, I’m really new to this.”

You only smile at him. He still maintains his professional talking voice that he’s been using to everyone else. Your mind started to wonder what would his voice sound like in bed — would he be making sounds that’s far from the serious and stoic Jake Sim?

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” you assured. “Let’s start from the very start. Do you want this to be an exclusive thing? Just the two of us?”

Jake became quiet for a second, “I’m going to keep it exclusive for me but I don’t mind if you sleep with other guys.” 

“Okay, since you’re going to stay loyal, I’m going to stay loyal too,” you smiled, hoping that you’re not going to regret it. “This is a no-string attached set-up, we’ll only meet for sex, and it has to be mutually consented too, is that okay with you?”

Jake only nods, busying himself with his cooking. The smell of the buldak sauce steaming inside the kitchen. You stopped for a second because Jake hands you a bowl of his carbonara buldak risotto. Murmuring your thanks, you took a bite on it and had your eyes wide open. 

“This tastes good,” you shared, while Jake quietly smiles before eating his own food. 

“Oh by the way, we shouldn’t do things like this,” you added. 

“Why not?”

“Because this is too wholesome! We’re here to fuck, not act like lovers.” 

“Alright, what else?”

“Any kinks you have in your mind?”

Jake almost spat out his ramen. He looks at you who only gave him an innocent stare. 

“Why? If we’re going to fuck, then we should atleast make each other feel good!” you pointed out before a thought crosses your mind. “Oh my god don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

“No, I’m not,” Jake coughs. “I just forgot what I’m into.”

That’s when you let out another laugh. “Jake Sim you’re really something else. When was the last time you even had sex?”

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Uhm…summer before junior year.” he barely recalled it. It was just a drunken one night stand. On a three-day-and-two-night trip to the beach with his friends. He was drunk, flirted with a stranger, and had sex, and before the sun had risen, he left the hotel room. 

“Woah, that long huh?” you smiled. “You never thought of having a girlfriend?”

“It’s proven that college couples tend to break up after graduation,” Jake repeated. At the same time, Jake thinks that he couldn’t prioritize commitment when he has a lot of things to focus on. 

“Not now, but during that duration,” you pointed, and that question made Jake quiet. 

“I did like someone back in junior year,” he confessed. “But she — someone else got her first.”

“Do you still like her?”

“Of course not anymore,” Jake only smiled bitterly. Regrets rushing into his heart. “She’s my friend’s girlfriend — they got together last year coincidentally. From there, I threw away my feelings immediately.”

“She must be lucky that you like her.”

“I feel like she’s happier with my friend now.” 

Silence faltered inside the kitchen. You only stared at the half-full bowl before taking another bite. You couldn’t even think of another word to say. 

“What about you?” Jake asked, making you glance at him. “What about your kinks? Let’s not delve into our lovelife since we’re not here to act like lovers.”

A faint blush rushed on your cheeks, usually things like this will be discussed during sex, during the heat of the moment, so it felt weird saying it out of blue. “It’s embarrassing.”

“How can I make you feel good when I don’t know what you want?”

“Fine, I’m submissive. Use me however you want, rough that it’ll leave me limping. Choke me, that’ll make me cum, but don’t you ever use degrading words, that’ll make me cry.” 

“So, that means you’re into praise? Like good girl or something?”

You became quiet. Jake quickly observes how you stared at him, eyes wide. You can feel your heart beating fast, words stuck at your throat as Jake’s words keep replaying in your mind. 

“That fast? I’m surprised,” Jake teasingly said. “What else?” 

“Let’s talk about it the other time, but that summarizes what I want during sex,” you explained. 

Jake hums for a moment. “Alright. Then should we discuss our setup somewhere more, private?”

Your heart beats faster than before. You only nod as both you and Jake left the bowls on the sink, before following him towards his room. 

You’re used to a guy’s room. The smell, the mess, and probably unwashed sheets for weeks. You didn’t care about it during sex, but after sex? Those guys are getting blocked. Personal hygiene is your number one must, and if Jake Sim’s room is a mess, then he’ll just have to kiss this setup bye-bye. 

As Jake opens his room, you’re surprised to see a clean and neat room that smells like sandalwood and men’s perfume. His bed is neatly done, bedsheets in navy blue and white. Side table filled with nothing but a night lamp. On a corner is a pc set-up and a study table where his books are placed on a small shelf along with some pencil holder and his laptop. 

Of course this is Jake Sim that we’re talking about. He holds a good reputation in your university so he’s likely cleaner than the rest of the guys you’ve slept with before. 

Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you look around his room, probably amazed by it. Then, you turned around and smiled at him before sitting next to him. 

“So, anymore questions?” you asked. 

“You told me that you can’t offer your place, you live with your parents?” Jake asked. 

“Not my parents, but my older sister. It’s a one bed apartment room, that’s why I can’t offer mine. I don’t mind hotel rooms but I don’t do cheap ones Jake, so if you want it, we can do it here,” you explained, then another thought flew inside your mind. “Why? Do you like public sex or something?”

Jake only shakes his head. “I’m not going to throw my roommates everytime we do it, so being quiet is an option.”

You stared at his lips before glancing back at his stare, you shifted your body towards him, knees touching each other as you lean close to him. “Don’t worry, I can be quiet.” 

You two stare at each other for a minute. No one said a thing. You were waiting for him to say another word, while he only slowly observed you.

Then, Jake teasingly grins, which is a new, unfamiliar expression for you, “you seem eager to get fucked tonight.” 

“If you don’t want it, I don’t mind,” you smirked. “We can take things slow pres.”

That nickname. That damn nickname that always electrifies him. Jake’s ears deafened as the vixen smile on your lips widened. 

“I bet you want to call me other names,” Jake said, suddenly there’s a change in the atmosphere. You held your breath as his hands gently rested on your thighs, thumb caressing your bare skin while the smile on his lips became a smirk. 

“Pres? Sir? Daddy? While I call you a good girl as you take my dick inside your tiny little hole? You want that baby?” his deep, raspy voice sent chills through your spine. Your heart started beating fast, minding starting to float — wondering what it feels like to hear more of his heavent-sent voice praising you. 

But you didn’t want to back down that easily, so a scoff in disbelief was your answer.

“Maybe it’s you who wants to be called those names,” you spat back at him. Hands finding its way towards his jawline, your sharp, acrylic nails cupping his cheeks while Jake remains unfazed, his eyes shifted immediately to a bored one.

It’s dangerous. You’re convinced that Jake’s dangerous for you. He’s not rushing anything. Guys usually just throw you to bed and fuck you senselessly, while Jake only sat there, lazy eyes staring at you. Tempting and alluring like he’s teasing you to take the lead.

He doesn’t move. He’s patient with you, like he’s waiting for your next move. And it only leaves you impatient and wetter than before. You only glanced at his lips, luscious and thick, thumb grazing on its soft skin, cursing why Jake Sim has to be so perfect?

“You want it?” he whispered to you, voice crashing in you like a siren. 

“Please…” you only breathed, tone high-pitched almost on the edge of whining that Jake chuckled darkly because of it. 

A throb on your heart was all you felt as he crashed his lips on yours. Gently, he cups your face as he tilts his head, pressing his lips as it starts moving to get a taste of you. You kissed him back with much force, lips expertly responding to his kiss.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck before you moved to his lap, hips immediately moving against his thigh to feel him underneath, only for Jake to groan against your mouth. The sudden movement of your hips flinches him. 

Jake knows that it’s been a while since he had sex, he barely recalls when was the last time that he had masturbated. Due to his hectic schedule and tired body, it never crossed in his mind to pleasure himself. He’d rather sleep than rub it away.

Maybe his roommates were right, his pent-up frustration is just him being sexually frustrated. Maybe it’s the peer pressure too. While his peers are living their life in adventures and parties, his college life becomes too nerdy and academic-focused that it leaves him too serious to deal with emotional attachments like love or pleasure. 

But in Jake’s mind, what’s the point? Can he even have a girlfriend when he himself is too tired with his other priorities? Aera was right to advise that he just needs to get laid, at least with the no-strings attachment, he doesn’t have to deal with its aftermath. 

His hands find its way through your hair, brushing it softly until he tugs it out of nowhere, earning a moan from you. He pulls your face away from him — his stare at you menacing and that both knew that something awakened in Jake.

But it only made you needy, biting your lips before crashing your lips onto him, rough and aggressive which he reciprocated, hips bucking upwards to meet your clothed cunt. His tongue slipped out of his and slid its way inside yours, battling inside your mouth as whimpers escaped from you.

You pulled away from him. Eager for more, you could only tug his hair, staring at him darkly and boldly. “Don’t hold back on me,” you challenged. “I’m not fragile Jake Sim, let all your frustrations out on me.”

That was the trigger. The way you begged for him, and recalling all the kinks that you said to him. He found you not only bold but also a pleaser. — and that made him want you to writhe underneath his touch.

What is it like to have the golden girl on her knees and worship him? “Get on your knees,” Jake ordered. Almost throwing you away from his lap. You scurried your way down to the floor, knees touching the soft rug underneath as Jake stood up. Hands caressing your head as you look up at him, round sparkling eyes that’s ready to submit to him. 

“Show me how good you are at pleasing a guy.” Jake unties the drawstrings of his sweatpants, pulling it down until it hits the floor.

You only stared at the tent on his boxer, eyes filled with curiosity on his cock, making you glanced back at Jake. 

“Come on, show pres how good you are, vice,” he smirked, and the nickname only sent chills to your cunt. Never would you think he’ll give a good rebut with your nickname for him.

But you’re used to this. That’s why in one big tug, you pulled down his boxer, eyes wide at his hard length. Out of all the dicks you’ve seen, this might be the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful, looking straight out of a porn video. Its mushroom tip is enough to tear your pussy apart. You unknowingly let out a small mewl as you wrapped your hands around it, stroking it lightly before you sinked it inside your mouth.

You wasted no time. Licking all the length that your mouth could reach. Cheeks hollow as you suck it in and out before releasing it with a loud pop. strings of saliva connecting your mouth and its tip. You lightly stroke it, teasing it around your fingers as you squeeze its tip, feeling the way it twitches as you do the action. 

You looked up to Jake and saw how unamused he is. Like he’s not satisfied with it, so you slowly let out your tongue. Giving soft kitten licks around his cock without breaking eye contact with him. You can see how he’s holding back, so in one swift motion, you swallow his cock once again and start sucking it in a fast motion. 

In contrast, Jake is slowly losing his mind. His cock is has become sensitive, soft groans started escaping his lips as you continue bobbing your mouth in and out. It’s warm and tight, and he loved the way your tongue licked along your movement. 

He bucked his hips to meet your mouth, a whimper escaping your lips as he continued thrusting it, loving the way his tip hits the back of your throat. That’s when he decided to pull out of your mouth, dick twitching as you only had your brows furrowed. 

“What happened —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when Jake pulled you towards the edge of the bed, your back hitting against it as Jake stood in front of you. Its erected cock just an inch away from your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” Jake ordered using his usual professional tone. You’re not going to deny that it just sent your cunt throbbing. As you opened your mouth with your tongue out he slammed his cock inside yours. The sudden action caused you to bump your head against the side of the bed. Jake holds his dick inside you for a few seconds, feeling it twitch as Jake groans in satisfaction. 

“Fuck —” Jake moans, finding hold on his bed as his hips started to fuck your throat roughly. His tip hitting the back of your throat that it’ll leave your voice hoarse tomorrow. His thrust was erratic, you’re slowly feeling yourself dizzy by the way his dick suffocated you.

Your head continued bumping against the bed and mattress while your hands could only grip against the rug as your legs started to writhe. Your pussy’s throbbing that it hurts, wanting to touch it but you’re patient as you let Jake use you first. 

A gagging whimper escapes your lips as Jake sheathes inside you once again, holding it for a few seconds before pulling out and thrusting inside you again. 

“Look at you good girl, taking my cock so well,” Jake smirked, his thrust has becoming sloppy as he can feel his dick twitching, readying himself to cum, he pounds into you relentlessly and he swore that he never felt this fucking good.

“Fuck, drink my cum, take it,” he breathlessly moans, thrusting a few times until he felt his orgasm crash. The feeling was so new that his loud groan echoed around the room. Jake grips on the sheets tightly as his stomach tightens, hips pushing forward to sandwich you between him and the side of the bed. You couldn’t escape, eyes rolling upwards as his cum spilled downwards your throat, forcing you to drink the bittersweet liquid. Choking as the mouthful of cum was too much that your eyes started to water while drool dripped out of your mouth. 

Jake pulls out his twitching cock, still hard and aching while you gasp for air. Slowly, you can feel his hands on your hair before he pulls your chin upwards to look at him. Smiling at you devilishly like he’s proud to see your messed-up face with drool and cum on your lips.

“You did good,” Jake mumbled and you could only whine from the praise. 

“Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll get a reward from me,” and before you could say any word, Jake lifted you up to his bed. He cages you between his arms and glances at him.

His hands went tracing the outline of your body, towards your stomach until it reached the button of your shorts, but before he could even open it, you called him out, eyes darting at you immediately. 

“You’re not going to eat me,” you told him. “Nope, I don’t do that.”

Jake’s face distorted into a confused one. “You’ll let my dick inside your mouth but not the other way around?”

“I find it weird!” you reasoned out, before grabbing his hands. Seeing its long, slender fingers along with the pulsing veins brought an idea in you. “Look, it’s either you just drill your dick inside me or use your fingers, just not your mouth, I’m not going to let a man’s mouth near my private area.” 

Jake could only laugh in disbelief. Someday, he’ll get you to let him eat you out, but for now, he’ll just let his fingers do the work. 

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, before turning around to place his glasses on his side table, taking off his shirt and kicking his sweatpants out of his ankles. 

Jake turns around to see you sprawled on the bed. He stopped for a second. God, you look like a goddess with your body, but what amazes Jake more is your confidence as you only gave him a seductive smile. Your nipples were already erect against your breasts, which Jake unconsciously grabs the left side, fondling with it as his thumb grazes on it, sending shivers to you.

Slowly, he pushes you down the mattress, sitting beside you as his hands trailed all over your body. Hitching your breath as you watched his gorgeous hands feather on your stomach and stop just right on your pussy. 

“Keep your legs open for me,” he ordered and you did so. Legs sprawled as his fingers slid on your core. A dark chuckle escaping his lips — “fuck, you’re soaking wet already, did you got wet sucking me of?”

“Yes,” you mewled. “Please Jake — need you.”

But Jake hushes you, slender fingers sliding up and down its lips. “Stay still for me or you won't get to cum.”

And a soft whine escapes your lips. “That’s not fair.” 

The next thing you knew, his free hand was around your neck, a moan escaping on your lips as his fingers dipped on the right place.

“Stay still.” he said with a serious tone and you could only whine as Jake rubs your clit in a circular motion. His hands dipped further on the side of your neck, strong arms keeping you still as you shut your eyes while his fingers do magic in pleasuring you. 

“Jake —” another moan escapes your lips as you feel him slide two fingers easily inside you. Immediately pumping in and out before pulling it out. Opening your eyes to see Jake licking your slick out of his lips, his eyes locked at you as he removed his fingers out of his mouth with a small pop.

“You taste fucking good and you’re not going to let me taste it?” he teased, you could only shake your head as answer and Jake understood it already — he’ll be patient, but for now, it’s all about pleasuring you. 

He places his fingers inside you again, making you arch your back as he slides his fingers in and out, scissoring your walls open making you moan as both hands are doing god’s work to make you feel good. You watched as his left hand remained in your neck, holding you down so that you won’t move, large hands and pink knuckles wrapped around you making you hold onto it. 

“You like my hand that much?” Jake laughs, and a breathy “yes” was all you could answer. 

A loud cry left escaped your lips as Jake inserted another finger inside your pussy. You never tried having three fingers shoved inside you and it only stretched you wider. His pace became faster as it began to pump in and out, curling at a spot that made you legs shake — that’s when Jake knew. He remained at his pace, abusing the spot as he heard your uneven breathing, feeling you writhe against his hold. 

“Need to stretch you wide baby,” Jake darkly taunted, leaning against your ears as he whispered. “Going to make sure your pretty pussy can take my whole cock.”

That took you to cum, legs shaking as his finger fastened its pace when he felt your pussy clamming. You cry out his name making him slam your head deeper on the mattress using his other hand, tightening his grip that the pleasure from both actions only made you moan mutedly. 

Jake removes both his hands from you, legs still shaking as you try to catch on your breath. You closed your eyes as you felt Jake’s large hands patting your hair as a form of comfort, he leaned and kissed your lips which you immediately reciprocated, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck while you two got lost in each other’s taste. 

“Fuck me please,” you whispered against your kisses, and you could only feel Jake smile before leaving another breathy kiss on you. He separates from you as you watch as Jake grabs something from his drawer, you leaned on to see him sheathe the condom on his shaft. 

He glances back at you, and your heart starts beating fast. Damn it. You curse internally. Wondering how the fuck Jake still looks so fucking handsome despite the disheveled hair and flushed face. You can’t help but rub your thighs together as your eyes remain at Jake. 

He’s handsome, smart, and serious. He respects you but at the same time complies with your kinks. Even his performance and dick exceeded your expectations. You feel like you’ve hit the jackpot when you offered him to be his fuck buddy. 

“What position do you want?” he asked.

“Missionary,” basic, but you wanted the guy to do all the work. Smiling back at him as you asked his preference. 

“I’m okay with any, let’s just go with yours,” Jake said, smiling before pulling your legs towards him. 

You only lay down as Jake stretches your legs open, resting it on his strong thighs as he kneels in front of you. His eyes staring at your wet pussy before he positions his cock on your entrance. You could only bite your lips as you watch his tip disappear inside your cunt. Feeling it stretch your walls, already clasping for more, making Jake groan. 

“Shit — you want my dick so bad?” 

“More — Jake, please,” you whined. 

Jake slides his dick inside you within a second, earning a sultry moan from you as this is the first time you ever felt so full. He started his pace fast immediately, both hands on your waist as he lifted you like a ragdoll. Pounding on your warm walls, moaning with the way your pussy clamps his cock. 

“Jake — ugh — rougher please —” you weren’t able to continue your words when Jake wraps his hands on your neck once again. Followed by a sharp thrust, Jake leans over you with a serious expression as his grip tightens, knocking you out of breath making both your hands grab onto it, trying to grasp for air but at the same time, your pussy tightens around his cock. 

“You’re going to take my cock however you like, got it?” he ordered and you could only cry as his thrust became rougher like you wanted it. Eyes rolling in pleasure as he continued to abuse your holes.

Jake’s thrust hits right where you want it, his moans dragging out of his lips as he shut his eyes harshly. The pleasure was becoming too intense for him, your walls were sucking him harshly, warm and soft against his hard length. He can feel stomach tightening, dick twitching as a sign that he’s going to cum. 

Jake choked on his breath as he continued pounding inside your pussy, his shaft sliding in and out as your cries became louder. If it wasn’t enough, Jake pushes you down the bed, fingers pressing hard on each side making you arch your back. He can feel your legs kicking its way out, your hands trying to remove his hand around your neck but he only tilts his head in amusement, hips never stopping its movement.

“Jake! Fuck! —” you started babbling incoherent words. Eyes wet with tears as you tried to get away from his grasp. 

“You’re gonna cum now?” Jake amused, using his free hand to circle his thumb on your clit, earning a loud cry from you. 

“Please — I want —”

“You can cum pretty girl,” he whispered darkly. “You did so good, so you deserve to cum.”

You let out a muted moan as you stop writhing from his touch but instead, you started shaking. Jake lets go of his hand from your neck and replaces it with his lips, leaving feathered kisses as he continues to thrust inside your tight pussy. 

“Jake hhhh — too much!” you pleaded, feeling sensitive from your orgasm.  

“Just wait alright? You’re a good girl, you can hold it for me right?” he convinced, and those words only went straight to your abused cunt, nodding as Jake thrusts became uneven. It didn’t take a while before he let out a pornographic moan as he cums inside the condom. 

Jake was catching his breath as he lay down beside you. The heated atmosphere was followed by a quiet yet awkward silence. The two of you only stared at the ceiling, energy dying down along with the tension around.

“Woah” he could only say, both of you letting out a small laugh after sinking in what just happened between the two of you. 

Your eyes are drilling holes on the ceiling as you feel satisfied yet wanting for more. The sex was intense. You loved the way his cock abused your hole but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

“Jake —” you hesitated for a second, looking at him who immediately caught your words.

“You want another round?” he asked, almost smiling. 

“Please?” your eyes pleading innocently that it made Jake’s dick twitch. A sharp inhale escapes his lips as your hand reaches for his half-hard cock, stroking it lightly before pulling the soiled rubber away.

“Want you more,” you said softly like a kid asking for candy.

“Of course pretty girl,” a kiss on your temple was all you got before he reached his drawer once again — but his actions stopped when you pulled his arms. 

“I want it raw,” you said. “Want you to fill me. Please Jake, we’re safe. I’m on birth control.”

Jake felt like his ears deafened with his words. You look at him with the pout on your lips becoming visible as you continue to stroke his dick, palming his tip and squeezing it at every chance you can. 

“Fuck — you want it raw?” Jake asked in disbelief. 

You nodded feverishly. You never tried raw. Even though you’re using birth control, you still need to be extra careful, that’s why condom is a must when it comes to your hookups. 

But with Jake, something in you is asking to be impaled by him raw. You wanted his semen to fill you up full and warm. You want to feel his seeds inside you — like how it felt earlier on your mouth. 

It didn’t take a second for Jake to grab you by the waist and flip you. You had your stomach flat while Jake raises your hips, ass up in the air as his hands are on the curve of it. A sudden slap on your right cheek made you whine, and if it wasn’t enough — Jake shoved his dick inside your pussy without a warning. 

His hands gripped on your waist tightly, thrusting in and out harshly, watching as his dick disappeared inside your pussy while your ass bounced against his groin. Jake groans at the sight as your walls felt more heavenly without the condom. 

“Should’ve said earlier —” Jake grunts. “I’ll fill you full baby, you’re going to be a good girl and take all my cum right vice?” 

“Fuck —”

“Look how you’re sucking pres’ dick, you really fucking want this do you?” he pulls a fistful of your hair making you whine in pleasure. 

“Yes! God! fill me up pres!” you shouted loudly. You felt another slap on your ass as Jake continued drilling his dick inside you. Hitting your deepest part that no one had ever reached. 

“Take it like the good girl you are.”

The room smelled like sex and sweat. Bodies slapping together echoed around the room along with each other’s moans and whimpers. The continuous action caused the bed to creak, headboard slapping against the wall, but both of you were too lost in the pleasure to care. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Jake spoke, hand letting go of your hair making you fall flat on the pillow. 

Your only response was a cry, before feeling your stomach coil again. Cumming unannounced with continuous, unstable whimpers followed by a moan. Hands shaking as it grips on the sheets so tight that your knuckles are turning red. 

Jake came shortly after, letting out a loud groan as his hold on your waist tightened, fingers pressing on the skin making you whine in pain. His warm seeds started to fill your insides, making you whine loudly as he dumped every last bit of his semen inside you. Thrusting sloppily until his energy is all drained-up. 

Jake pulls out, cock dirtied with both of your cum, he could only stare at your hole as his cum dripped out of it. Unconsciously gathering it using his fingers before shoving it inside your pussy once again, a soft whimper escaping from you before he pumps in and out until he is fully satisfied with it. 

You shifted to lay down on your bed, which Jake followed, brushing the sweaty strands on your forehead. “You did good.” he whispered to you, hands massaging your legs and knees while you closed your eyes to his relaxing touch. 

“I should go,” you said while your eyes remained closed. 

“Wait, clean up first —”

“It’s okay, I can handle it myself,” you insisted. That’s when you sat up on his bed before looking at him. “No aftercares okay? It’s too wholesome for me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, “it’s not wholesome, it’s decency. I’m not going to let you go home with my cum dripping inside you.”

“What if I want that?” you teased, but Jake only chuckled on your words before scooping you up, startling you that you could only hold on his shoulders. 

The two of you reach their bathroom, Jake makes you sit on the toilet while he grabs a small towel, wetting it before handing it to you. “If you don’t want me to do it, it’s okay. We did it raw, I don’t want to risk you getting sick after sex, you need to pee too. I’ll be outside to get your clothes.” 

You only accepted the towel while he left you there, closing the bathroom door. Staring at the towel, you could only quip a small smile. Jake never failed to surprise you with his gestures, but then again, what else would you expect from the golden boy? He seems like he has everything sorted in his life. 

After you wipe yourself clean, you hear a knock on the door, revealing Jake who offers you your clothes again. You only smile at him, muttering your thanks as you wore your clothes. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Jake fully-clothed in the living room, he glanced at you which made you walk towards him. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “I guess our setup’s okay — you’re okay with it? Because I’m totally okay with having us as fuck buddies.” 

“If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it too,” Jake nodded in agreement. “It’s getting late, let me drive you to your home —”

“No, it’s okay Jake, we’re just here to fuck remember?” you reminded, and Jake didn’t rebut. “I’ll just book a car ride home. Don’t worry about me, I’ve been doing this many times.”

Jake could only quip a small smile as he walked you towards the door. 

“At least text me if you got home safe,”  Jake told you, and you let out a small chuckle.

“Alright, if it’ll make you sleep peacefully at night,” you teased. 

“Goodnight y/n, see you in Decelis?” Jake said hesitantly.

You tip-toed to land a kiss on his cheeks, winking at him as you said, “no, see you when we fuck again.”

-

It’s been two months since you and Jake had officially became a fuck buddy.

The set-up wasn't typical. It’s raw (maybe because you let him hit you raw,) but it’s intimate. The two of you also had discussed a lot of kinks to make each other feel good. Everytime you two meet, things spice up in bed and you two always end the night satisfied.

You’ve learned that Jake likes being a dom who complies to your wishes, which makes your set-up better. You consider him as a great fuck buddy especially when soft gestures and aftercares would follow after the rough sex, showing you that he’s not the only one benefitting on this set-up.

Outside the bedsheets, you two talked like you two aren’t each other’s fuck buddies. It was one rule that you had established and Jake complies to it. 

There were no wariness and subtle glances at each other. You’re used to guys texting you after, asking for dates or another hookup, they aren’t even subtle when greeting you inside the campus with eyes filled with lust. But Jake? Jake maintained his boundaries with you. 

He talks to you using his usual tone, acting like he didn’t shove his dick in your mouth many times. But you like it. You finally found someone who’s respectful with your boundaries and complies to whatever set-up you two had agreed. Despite the many times you two had sex, the two of you haven’t crossed the line. Both handled it maturely and were really just there for the sex. 

“Jake, I’ll be going now, y/n, bye-bye!” Jiwon announced, waving at the two of you who reciprocated it. The smile on her face was wide since her boyfriend’s waiting by the doorsteps of the club room. 

“Hey Jake! Don’t study too much, you’ll be out of our reach now,” Heeseung teased before grabbing Jiwon’s bag.

“Get lost you lovebirds,” Jake laughs, before waving goodbye to his friends one last time. You observed how Jake’s eyes lingered on them for a few minutes before continuing his task.

You hummed lightly as you focused on your report. The two of you remained inside the club room, stuck with tons of reports that became mishaps last semester. Incomplete documents and missing reports, Jake couldn’t help but to work overtime due to it along with you. 

“Did you ask your staff regarding this?” Jake asked in a serious tone, a pissed expression written on his face because some cases weren’t even during his term — some were even during his sophomore years, and it only showed up during his term. 

“I already sent a message on our group chat but no one’s responding to me,” you answered, checking your phone again but your message was left on read. “I’ll look more, it must be here somewhere.”

You stood up from your seat, going towards the files on the corner table. Grabbing it one by one to check if there may be some stray documents inside it — not noticing how Jake’s eyes were glued at you the whole time. 

Your hair was messily tied with a claw clip, revealing your nape that’s too tempting for Jake, completely a contrast against your immaculate white blouse that’s too thin, he can see the silhouette of your black bra. Then, his eyes trailed downwards to your skirt, the short navy blue skirt of your department. It’s a few inches above your knees but enough for him to see your gorgeous thighs and legs. 

Jake gulps tightly. Suddenly, his pants are too tight and his body starts to feel hot, making him loosen his tie. Eyes still glued to you, observing you who’s oblivious about his stares.

Jake’s mind started to haze, wondering why the room’s suddenly too hot despite the white noise coming from the air conditioner. But he remained glued to you — who suddenly dropped a document.

And of course, you don’t pick it up by bending your body, revealing your ass at him like a whore. You kneeled on the floor and picked it up with much demurity. Brushing the dust off your skirt as you stand up before going back to your task. 

His knuckles tightly gripped on the edge of the table, eyes watching you like a hawk. An obscene idea formed in his mind. And an idea that he knows isn't allowed and will surely lead him into trouble. That the act of indecency is prohibited by Decelis — but you’re just too tempting.

It’s almost seven in the evening. Usually there were only a few students around the building. A little stunt won’t hurt right? Jake thought before he stood up from his seat, strutting towards you and trapping you with his arms. You were startled, mouth about to open when you felt Jake’s hot breath on your nape — sending chills on your spine. 

“You’re going to be the death of me angel,” he whispered to you, tone dark and lustful that you felt yourself shivering. His body pressed closer to you, feeling his hard-on against your ass. 

“Jake —” you halted a breath when his lips landed on your neck, peppering kisses and soft nibbles making you bend forward. “Not here — someone might walk in.” you tried to push him away but he immediately grabbed your wrists, unable to tug it as he pressed himself so that you could feel his chest against your back. 

“We’re the only one here,” Jake assured. “Can’t wait any longer for you.”

“Jake stop — ah!” The next thing you knew, Jake had you bended on the table, cheeks pressed against the surface with his huge hands stabilizing it. Jake groans softly as he grinds his clothed dick against your skirt, moaning loudly as he rutted on it harshly.

Your heart started beating fast, body shaking and feeling violated with his actions — but at the same time, you can feel yourself heating up. It felt so wrong but your body couldn’t do anything, not even an attempt to struggle your way out was done.

“You want this too do you?” he whispered to you, your eyes widening as he hunches your skirt up to your waist, revealing your black cotton panties underneath. His hands fondling the curve of your butt, making you writhe from his touch.

“Stop —” You shake your head but Jake only pressed your face harsher, tears started to form from your eyes. 

“Be a good girl and behave for me? You don’t want to see their golden girl being a bad girl don’t you?” he taunted, and that thought had your heart racing. 

You two can’t do this. Someone might walk in any minute now. The door’s unlocked and the small window of the door was enough for you two to be seen. That’s when you struggled your way out but Jake grabs your wrist and holds it on your back. 

“We’ll be quick angel, it’ll be nice and you’ll feel good with it,” Jake said, fumbling with his belt with his free hand. He unzips his zipper and releases his cock free from its strain. Angry red and twitching, Jake was eager when he swiftly pulled your panties on the side, slightly rubbing his tip on its entrance which made you move away — but Jake hovered over you.

“Just be quiet for me, going to fuck you real quick you won’t feel any pain —” but it was the complete opposite of what you felt when his huge tip slides in without a warning. You let out a muted cry as Jake sheathes inside you nice and slow yet his huge cock is still too big for you for the sudden penetration. 

It felt so wrong in many ways — but you like it. You like the way that you couldn’t do anything about the situation. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock as he pounds on you senseless. You know that Jake isn’t going to stop unless you say so. Even if you tell him to stop a hundred times, he won’t — unless the safe word comes out of your mouth.

But it never did. You enjoyed the way his dick penetrated inside you, your pussy hugging it making you cry in pain and pleasure. 

“Jake — ah! It hurts —” you cried, feeling his thrust faster and harsher with his protruding tip kissing your deepest parts. 

“It hurts? Don’t fuck with me angel, you love it don’t you? I can feel you getting wet around my dick,” Jake taunted, giving sharp consecutive thrusts leaving you moaning incoherent words.

Your cries filled the whole room, along with the wet slaps of bodies as Jake pounds your pussy with no resentment. His groans lustful and dark, big hands gripping your wrist so tight that you couldn’t do anything but to accept your fate. Heart beating fast that it’s the only thing you can hear against the lewd noises. 

Then you felt it. You’re on the edge of your orgasm. A whimper escapes your lips which signaled Jake. He removes his hold from your wrist before wrapping his hands on your neck, choking you tightly as he presses his body against yours, body sticking together, uniforms getting creased as his hips never stop abusing your holes. The table beneath started to creak, shuffling against the marbled tiles while you crunched against the papers that your hand could reach.

“You’re going to cum now? See how you like it? My angel wanted to get fucked wherever she wants to,” Jake whispered against your ears, reminding you that you’re doing something scandalous inside your campus, and the risk of getting caught is there.

That’s the thrill, there’s nervousness inside you that had your pussy tightening against Jake’s length. Earning a sharp groan from him, as he teasingly chuckled. “With the way your pussy’s sucking me in, I can tell you love this angel.” 

With his expert thrusts, Jake made you cum in no time. A soft sob escaping your lips as the coil in your stomach tightened, knees and legs shaking that you lost your footing — finding balance on Jake’s pressed body against yours. 

Jake follows you shortly after. Filling you with his raw seeds making you whine too loudly that Jake covered your mouth with his hand. He pulls out immediately and starts pumping his dick, spilling a few strands on your ass and skirt, staining your uniform while his cum drips against your inner thighs. 

Jake could feel his cock twitching at the sight. You bent over the table inside the club room, uniform messed and creased with his cum stains. He couldn’t believe that he had the power and confidence to do an act that might risk not only his reputation — but also yours. 

But in the moment of silence that’s when Jake gently holds you, removing you from the table before facing you towards him — his face filled with a worried expression like he didn’t just violate you earlier. His hands go through your wrists as he lightly massages it. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked, still having a post-orgasm haze.

A hint of nervousness hit Jake, hands on your shoulders as he said, “I’m sorry —”

“No, don’t say sorry Jake, I like it —” but you slapped his chest, eyes glaring at him. “But what the fuck was that!? I didn’t know you’re into public sex!”

“It’s your fault, you’re just too tempting,” he admits, sensing a rush of relief to see that you’re fine with it. “You like it though.”

You two have talked about it a few weeks ago. Jake’s eyes widened when you shared that you’re into non consensual things, you love the way that you don’t have control on some things especially in bed — Jake understood what you meant, and you two established a safe word. 

You like it, you just didn’t expect that you two are going to do it inside the club room. Somehow, you felt nervous at the thought of breaking school rules. 

“Yeah, but what if we got into trouble?” you asked hypothetically, knowing that you two aren’t just students — you two are considered as the role models, it’ll be a huge scandal if they’ve discovered what you two have done.

“But it feels good right? Breaking the rules,” Jake grins, his hands on your waist while his half-hard cock poking your thighs. He seems to be confident about it while the worry look on your face still remains. 

“Jake, I’m serious,” you told him, heart still beating fast. 

“I’m not going to do it if I’ll be risking something,” he assured, hand brushing your hair as he lightly grazes on your cheeks. “Don’t worry pretty, I won’t give you trouble.”

Jake leans closer for a kiss from you, you could only close your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a heated, torrid kiss that had you two immediately gasping for air after a few minutes. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whispered against his lips. “I can’t believe we broke some rules.”

“And I don’t mind breaking more with you,” Jake whispered, and you don’t know what he meant, but as Jake pulled you for another heated kiss, you couldn’t feel anything but the rapid beating of your heart — something indescribable and only would you feel whenever you’re with Jake. 

-

If there’s one thing to describe with Jake is that he is rational.

He abides by every rule and condition given to him. One mistake can be a risk, and Jake, although a risk-taker, still will play safe if he doesn’t gain anything good from the risk. 

Even with your little set-up, Jake respects your conditions and abides by it. That little stunt a few weeks ago wasn’t part of your conditions but you two promised to never do it again inside the campus. Risk is still a risk, and it just sinked into him that his action was too impulsive and risky for you two. 

Fortunately, there weren’t any rumors circling around. Jake was assured that no one had witnessed the scene. Over the past weeks, you two returned to your usual setup — meeting only to have sex, nothing more, nothing less.

Inside his room, Jake was in the middle of his break. His laptop is left open while his notes are spread through the table. He leans against his computer chair as he plays one round of online games, something to relax him in between his study sessions. 

Suddenly, his phone’s ringtone pings, and although he’s in the middle of the game, Jake stops — abandoning his game because that ringtone is specifically for you. Jake looks up to his phone, receiving a notification from you. It wasn’t the usual message that you’d send if you down to fuck. Something about your message had Jake staring at it for a moment.

Hey, can you pick me up here? Just need someone.” your message says. It was straightforward. No flirty remarks or horny subtexts. Not even an emoji and that period — you don’t use periods. 

Jake thought about it for a moment. Wondering if you just sent it to the wrong person. After all, you two only meet to fuck. But in Jake’s mind — in his rational thought, you might be in trouble and the first person you’ve thought of was him. 

So hurriedly, he grabbed his jacket and left his room, going towards the room next to him and knocking a few times before it swung open. 

“Aera, can I borrow your car?”

Jake arrives at the location you sent. A convenience store wherein he can see you from its window. Sitting alone while fiddling with your phone. Jake calls you from his phone and as you look up, your eyes meet.

“Thank you,” you only mumbled as you sat on the passenger seat.

Jake looks at you for a minute. Compared to your usual perfect getup, you were a mess. Your hair is tied in a disheveled low ponytail, eyes red and puffy, obvious that you had cried, you were even holding back your sobs as you only cling on your jacket. Inside it was a tank top and pajama pants. 

You didn’t spare a glance at Jake, your eyes glued at the window of the car. The car was filled with nothing but silence. Jake didn’t want to push you to talk, so he decided to drive away — somewhere that’ll give you a peace of mind. 

The drive brought you two to the highway road, somewhere on the border of the city and its neighboring town. Jake had known this route since Aera brought him and Yunjin to her hometown. Turning right and leaving the highway, the car slowly drove towards a less traveled road. Almost empty and dark if it wasn’t for the few orange streetlights to give light to stray cars. 

Jake stops by the side of the road, somewhere dark and uphill. That’s when you realized you two had stopped. Glancing at your side, only to see that the top view of the city is in front of you. It’s beautiful against the dark night. Hundreds of buildings and establishments flickering like stars, showing you that you’re just a small piece of the huge city. 

“How did you find this?” you asked, almost a whisper.

“Aera, Yunjin, and I took a wrong turn one time,” Jake smiles, remembering the chaos it brought.

It was late in the evening, Aera was panicking while steering the wheel because she took a wrong turn. Yunjin was shouting how this is how a horror movie starts, while Jake was trying his best to find a signal from his phone. They were driving in the dark for so long, screaming and panicking until they passed this road, they eventually stopped. Relief came into their senses because they weren’t trapped in the middle of a haunted road.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled, staring at the view for so long. 

“It has become our secret place ever since,” Jake said, smiling. “When we’re tired, stressed, or just need to escape the city, we go here. You’re the only one I brought here, I don’t know about my roommates if they ever brought someone here.” 

You ignored the way your heart faltered with his words. This feels nice. You think, being away from the noise of the city. And as you clutch your phone, that’s when you remember the reason why you even left your place. 

“My sister and I…we had a fight,” you opened up slowly, making Jake glance at you. “We’re close. Very close, she’s my best friend, my ride or die you can say.”

But a bittersweet smile formed on your lips. “But sometimes she doesn’t understand me.”

“It's just a silly fight about chores and keeping the apartment clean, but —” a choke sob escapes from your lips, trembling as you inhale deeply. “Why does it always have to be me? I know she’s tired from work, but I get tired with school too. She always belittles my tiredness and it’s getting annoying — it’s like I don’t have the right to get tired.”

You let out a deep sigh before aggressively wiping your tears. “She thinks I’m all this smart and good at everything girl and I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes I regret excelling in my studies, all this extracurricular shits and being the golden girl because I can’t fail, I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” 

Jake quietly listens to your rant, realizing how you two are so similar yet different too. 

You both got the title because you two met the standards. He doesn’t care about the title, it wasn’t a crowning glory for him. While you hold onto it like it’s your pride, it’s something that will prove your worth. You may seem so alike but you two see the title so differently. 

“She doesn’t understand that I am not that smart, I study hard, yes, but I am not that intelligent. And everytime I bring that up, she thinks that I’m just lowering my self-esteem, but it’s the truth! I’m not good with everything! Do you know why I’m a communications student? Because I hate math Jake, that’s a cursed subject and it’s my lowest in my records. A fucking 2.5.”

Jake, being an engineering student, merely laughs at your rant. You had a pissed expression written on your face but the sobs never stopped. Jake wonders whether to take you seriously or not. But he nods at your words, trying to understand your sentiments because even he isn’t that great at some fields, like literature or anything with subjective essay writings. He hates those kinds of subjects.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” you apologized immediately, realizing that Jake hasn’t said a word throughout your whole rant. “I know I told you that we shouldn’t do things like this, but I just really need some escape.”

“Don’t you have friends?” he asked, a curious question that seems to be far from your worries. 

“I have but they don’t study at Decelis,” you laughed, finding his question funny yet comforting. “That’s why I love being in the student aid, it feels nice talking to students and helping them. Some juniors look up to me, they don’t know I’m just this imposter who’s not really great at everything.”

“You’re not an imposter y/n,” Jake said. “You’ve worked hard to gain the title. They gave it to you because you deserve it.”

“Do I? Or is it because there weren’t any candidates this year? That’s why they just chose me since I’m the last option.” you rebutted.

“Maybe you’re sister’s right,” Jake said with a serious tone. “Maybe you’re just lowering your self-esteem. Y/n, you were last year’s Selene, you used to be the head radio jock of the radio station, and you never left the department honors’ list every semester — fuck, you’re the vice president of the student aid, everyone loves you! Is that enough proof for you that you deserve the title?”

You don’t know why but your mouth shut down when Jake rambled. You never thought that those words would come out of Jake’s mouth. Shock? Perhaps, asking how Jake knows you this much while you only know him through his touch and golden boy image?

Then it struck you and your setup with him. Like cold water pouring on you as you realized that you might have slightly broke the rule because you went to him and instead of asking to be fucked, you vented out your frustrations on him.

A curse left your lips as you glanced at Jake, eyes pleading and yearning as he only stared at you with his usual neutral expression, like he was waiting for your response.

But you only grabbed Jake by his hoodie and pulled him for a kiss, aggressive and salty as tears still continued to fall from your eyes. Strong hands managed to push you away but your hands remained at his clothes. 

“What the —”

“Forget everything I said Jake, we only meet to fuck remember?”

Jake wasn’t able to rebut when you pulled him for another kiss. At first he doesn’t move, but slowly he responds to your kiss, light and slow, like he’s careful of breaking you. 

And you hated feeling like you’re fragile. You pulled out of the kiss to grab the gear to adjust Jake’s seat — enough to give you space to sit on his lap and give him another heated kiss. 

Jake lets you dominate him as you straddle on his lap. Kissing him hurriedly as your quick hands immediately went between his thighs. Palming his cock, making him groan against your lips. You’ve done this many times and you know where this will lead — you being fucked out of your sadness.

But slowly, Jake stops responding to your kisses. Suddenly, he grabs your face, separating it from you. Seeing him with his angry expression and flushed lips, you could only whine as you grind against his cock, hoping that he’ll give you what you want. 

“Y/n stop —” Jake sternly said. “You’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t do this.”

But you bitterly smiled at him. “Jake, do you know why I do hook-ups? Because it’s my escape, so please, just make me forget everything.” 

“Not with this y/n —”

“Jake please! You might think I’m weak and vulnerable but I know what I am doing.” you said with a serious tone, pleading as you grabbed both his hands, placing it on your waist as your hips continued to move beneath him. 

Jake stared at you for a minute, thinking that he had no choice but to agree. It’s your setup with him. You two are just there for pleasure. If you can fuck him out of his frustration, why can’t he do it with your sadness? It felt unfair to go against your want. 

The two of you moved on the backseat. You lay down as Jake prepared you, scissoring your insides hastily, curling at the spot until you’re wet enough for him. He pulls his pants down enough to release his cock, pumping it lightly, smearing his precum for lubrication, and quickly aligns it on your entrance. Slowly, Jake sheaths inside you, earning a moan from you that he started moving. 

Jake’s thrust was frantic. Fast but wasn’t harsh, like he was trying his best to make you cum. He could only close his eyes shut as he pounds inside you, leaving you in heaving moans. His hands are both on your waist while your hands could only hold onto it for support.

“Faster, please —” You begged but Jake can’t and instead he closes his eyes because he couldn’t bear to see your face. Your eyes red and puffy from crying — yet it haunted him even in his mind. Your conversations replaying in your mind, Jake suddenly halted his action. 

“I’m sorry —” Jake could only groan, taking a sharp exhale. “I just can’t, I know you want this, but this is still wrong.” 

Jake removes his hands from your waist, almost feeling himself disgusted to do the act. He looks down on you whose eyes watered and that even breaks his heart more. 

“Fuck, I just can’t fuck you out of your sadness y/n, you don’t need sex to escape your worries.” he said to you. 

And softly, you said, “I’m okay with this.”

“And I’m not, you can forget your worries without me using you.” Jake stated, his tone became serious but there’s a hint of worry on it.

You only stared at him. Eyes wide as it just sinked into you what happened. Jake didn’t want to have sex with you when it’s the only thing that you two should be doing. But he did it out of respect for you, because he knows that your emotions are all over the place. 

“I’m sorry,” you only cried, making Jake pull you upwards, wrapping you close to him as you cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

Jake hushes you, “it’s not your fault, I’m not mad don’t worry. Just let it out.”

“I just want to be seen.” you confessed, holding tightly on his jacket. “It’s like everything I do is not enough for everyone.” 

“You’ve done everything, you’ve worked hard for the title. Everyone loves you y/n, don’t ever forget that,” Jake softly said. Hands possessively around your waist as his other hand drew circles around your back. 

“It’s not enough —”

“You’ve proven your worth. They gave you the title because they know that you deserve it,” Jake said. “Don’t ever think that you’re worthless — that you’ll find your worth using sex, you’re more than that.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you,” you mumbled, feeling guilty all of the sudden.

“I understand your part, but I just can’t do it with your emotions all over the place,” Jake reassured, and that made you better than before. He knows his boundaries with you, agreeing to each other’s condition but at the same time, he doesn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability. 

“Thank you,” you only breathed. “I — it’s just — I just need to distract myself.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” Jake explained. Hand patting the back of your shoulder. “This could be your breather. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Then, can we stay like this?” you asked suddenly, glancing at him who only remembered that he’s still inside you. 

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Do you want to?"

You only nod, snuggling closer to him, resting on his chest as you can feel the faint beat of his heart. “You’re warm, and it eases me…I don’t know, I know we said we shouldn’t do this but…I think this is the closest thing that we can do as sex.”

Jake only brushes your hair softly, a kiss landing on top of your hair before he said, “if it eases you, of course we can — and don’t worry about it, we can break a few rules just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” you mumbled back. Jake’s willing to break the rules just for you and it reminded his words back at the club room, leaving you questions if those rules also applied to your setup.  

But you remained laying on Jake’s chest, while his arms were around your waist. The two of you laid there in silence. Warm bodies eloping underneath the cold hum of the car’s air conditioner. Jake didn’t try to move, worried that it might stir you. His swelling cock still inside you, pulsing as your warm, gummy walls enveloped it. 

Jake knows that this is against the rules. Cockwarming is something you two agreed to use for foreplay but this one? It’s different, and new, — and rawfully intimate. With you finding comfort to have him inside you, making you at ease, Jake thinks that this one is out of each other’s conditions. 

He let out a sigh as he remembered how you two shouldn’t act like lovers. His mind racing with thoughts. Thinking if he should’ve just fucked you earlier, it wouldn’t lead to this kind of warm between you. 

But his conscience wouldn’t let him. So he lets you sleep in his chest, and as you deeply fall into your slumber with the night becoming deep, Jake decides to slowly remove you from him. You whimper a little but Jake managed to put on your pajamas back. Pulling his sweatpants up before driving back to the city.

Back in the apartment, Yunjin was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water when she heard the door open. She quickly leaves the kitchen and her eyes went wide to see Jake carrying you behind his back, gripping tightly to your sleeping figure.

And as he makes eye contact with his roommate, he remembers everything Yunjin had advised him. 

“Sorry, I don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her to her home,” Jake excused immediately. 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “attachment is what will ruin what you two have, I’m just saying Jake.”

“I know. It’s just that she has nowhere else to go.” 

“It’s fine, but I’m just reminding you.”

Jake only nods. He went straight to his room wherein he places you gently down in his bed. He changes into his sleepwear before laying beside you. Hands instinctively brushing your soft hair like it was on auto-pilot. 

Then he stops — ponder for a moment, wondering if what you two did is still part of your setup.

But he knows that it wasn’t. You two didn’t have sex and he seemingly broke the rule. Everything that you two did was too intimate for a pair of fuck buddies. Attachment — as what Yunjin said, might ruin what you two have. It’s not too late for him to distance himself. 

Jake knows it was the rational thing to do. The moment you two established this setup, no rules were broken until tonight, and it’s because of him.

It was rational for him to fuck you to escape your worries. It’s the agreement that you two agreed on. Regardless of whatever emotions you had because at the end of the day, you two are just there for sex. 

But maybe, Jake wanted to break some rules. Ruin whatever you two have, and just be a mess — far from his golden boy image who always had sort things right. 

And he couldn’t believe that he’s having those thoughts. Jake has always been rational. He thinks ahead before making a choice. But with you, he somehow mixes his emotions and thinks about what might affect you.

You probably put a spell on him, and Jake wanted to curse you for entering his life as a hurricane, ruining his perfectly planned college life. — but he didn’t, instead, he planted a kiss on your forehead as he whispered good night to you. Because he knows deep inside that he wants the chaos too. 

-

By morning, Jake found himself alone in his bed. Blinking, he stares at the empty side for a moment before he sits up to grab his phone, seeing that it was a Thursday. He had no classes that day but maybe you had, that’s why you left early. 

Quickly, he left his room, brushing his bedroom hair that became messier as he walked towards the  kitchen when he heard bright laughter by the dining table. Familiar voices that are talking together. Jake’s feet stopped for a moment, listening to their soft murmurs and chuckles, sleepy mind trying to process everything before entering the area.

There he found you, sitting along Yunjin and Aera, with plates of full breakfast on the table. The three of them stopped, glancing at Jake who seems to be still drowsy in the morning. 

“There he is,” Yunjin laughed. “We were just talking about you.”

Yunjin’s words became mute as Jake’s eyes never left you. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night, sitting beside his roommates, who he cherishes so much, with a wide smile on your face. It wasn’t your typical smile, it was full of laughter and bright. A total contrast from your sobbing expression last night.

A relief rushed in Jake’s chest, seeing how you’ve become comfortable immediately with his roommates. He didn’t even realise that he was staring for too long that Aera had to literally shout his name — snapping out of his thoughts.

“Dude, are you still asleep?” Yunjin asked, laughing as Jake started to move. 

“Sorry, maybe I was.” Jake apologized before sitting on the empty chair. 

Jake remembered how you said you don’t have any friends in Decelis, that’s why seeing that you’re warming up with Yunjin and Aera, he was glad that you somehow found some female friends that you can comfortably talk to. He overhears you three talking about skincares, novels, even their chaotic love life was shared to you who only gasps at the details. 

By ten in the morning, Yunjin and Aera left for Decelis, leaving Jake and you alone inside the dorm, volunteering to clean the dishes on their behalf. 

“Do you have a schedule for today?” Jake asked, after rinsing the last plate. 

“I do, but it’ll be later in the afternoon,” you answered. “You?”

“I’m free for the whole day,” Jake said. “I should drop you off at your place so that you can get ready.”

“Okay, sure, thanks Jake…not only for that, but for last night too.” you softly said, making Jake stop for a moment but he gives you a small smile.

“It’s no worries, you can stay there, I’ll just go take a shower.” Jake excused. “...do you want to join me?”

Your eyes widened, an unusual invitation but you only muttered your “yes’ before Jake reached for your hand, instinctively, you accepted it as he guided you towards the bathroom. 

You wonder where this will lead. You sit on the closed toilet seat as Jake goes back and forth from his room towards the bathroom, lending you a clean towel and some spare clothes of his. 

“I don’t know if you use specific products, you can just steal some from my roommates. I'll just buy them in exchange,” Jake stated. That’s when you noticed the pile of toiletries on a holder beside the shower. Three tiers that contain different products, finding it nice how organized that roommates were. 

It made you smile, “you sure love your roommates, and they love you too.”

“They’re like sisters to me, we’ve been living together for so long that it feels like we’re a family,” Jake shared as he closed the bathroom door before glancing at you. “Let’s go?”

The two of you stripped off from each other’s clothes before going inside the shower. Jake opens the shower, cold water hitting your bare body startling you. You close your eyes as you brush your hair slowly making it wet. 

“Can I?” you heard Jake ask, and you don’t know what he meant, but he grabs the white bottle of shampoo that smelled like sakura flowers. He lathers it in his hands before carefully starting massaging your hair. 

His hands were gentle, soft and careful as his long fingers brushed the tangle strands. Strangely the act was so intimate and gentle, which you two shouldn’t do. It’s not part of your setup. But no one said a word about it, no one reprimanded the other for the act. The two of you stood there as Jake continued massaging your hair. 

Then he massaged a certain spot on your head, which you mindlessly moaned. Eyes wide when you realized your action, but Jake only chuckled as he continued his action before rinsing off the shampoo out of your hair.

“I can do it from here,” you said. Grabbing the bottle of conditioner, before glancing at Jake who immediately lets you be. 

The two of you continued showering together. Quiet in your own world, with the raindrop-like sound of the falling water as a noise. It felt odd for you, never tried showering with a male, the proximity felt uneasy since you two are bare without the act of sex. You become wary of your movement but at the same time, you’re at ease because you’re with Jake.

It’s not obvious that his eyes darted on you at some moments. You’re not that dumb to feel it, but you ignore it, immersing yourself with the cold shower as you rinse off the conditioner from your hair. 

Then there was it. A kiss on your shoulder was the next thing you felt. With the cold water trailing down on you two, Jake’s warm body pressed against yours and slowly wraps his arms around you as he continues to pepper kisses on your shoulder, towards your neck making you tilt it to give him more space. 

“Let me make up with you,” he proposed. “Make you feel good, more good than you think.” 

A soft gasp was only your answer. Closing your eyes Jake tightens his hold on you. His lips were busy with the way he kisses your body nonstop. Showering you with love and warmth as a form of apology from last night. 

You turned around to face him. Eyes locked on his drowsy ones as you brush his wet bangs before trailing your fingers on his cheeks down to his jawline. Memorizing every detail of his face as he remained staring at you. 

You wanted Jake — no, you need him. You can’t have him because it’ll break the rules, but you need his warmth and closeness. The same warmth that gave you comfort last night. Your eyes were pleading as you wrapped your arms around his neck before standing on your toes to kiss him. Jake automatically leaned on, kissing you back with much tenderness — reciprocating the way you kissed him. Warm, and sensual, different from the heated makeouts you two had.

No one said a thing about the way the atmosphere felt different. You two stood there, drowning in the way each lips moved and tasted each other like it’s your last moment on earth. 

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. But the next thing you knew, Jake had you cornered against the tiles, the shower continued to run cold water yet you can feel the warm of each other’s skin — not lustful, not hungry, something intense and dangerous that both of you know are too risky to bring up. 

You stared at him once again. Hands brushing against his wet hair as the thumping beat of your heart becomes too fast and loud, but the serene silence inside the shower deafens it. 

“I don’t want you to make me feel good,” you whispered to him. “I just need you close to me Jake.”

And Jake complied. He made you melt deeply into his touch. He made you sure that you felt like a goddess and he’s your devotee. His hands found their way to touch every part of your body, tracing and remembering every inch of it, like he’s scared that he’ll forget you. Making sure not a single part is left behind as he takes you against the wall.

The loud echoing moans mixed together with the continuous rain shower. Your whimpers and groans drowning as each other’s lips find its way with much tenderness — the bathroom has become hot yet intimate as you pull him closer, so close like you don’t want to let go of him. The proximity between you two only made it more special and different from the times you two had sex.

You’re taking Jake all the way in, holding him closely to your body, chest pressed to each other as your hands clasps on his wet hair strands as he thrust his huge cock to you until you’re seeing stars. 

Jake follows after, painting your insides white as he captures your lips once again. His cock softens inside you, but he remains glued to you as your arms are wrapped around his neck, feeling safe and warm against his body. 

“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence. His eyes searched for you, hoping that your puffy red eyes won’t meet him. 

“I’m good,” you answered, feeling the haze coming as you smiled at him. Jake felt relieved to see that your eyes looked fine and normal unlike last night. 

After the act, the two of you finished showering. In tranquil silence, bodies and hair were dried before putting on fresh clothes. With that, Jake picks up the car keys and drives you to your place. 

As you reached the entrance of your apartment, you took off your seatbelt but remained there, glancing at Jake whose eyes were on the road. Now that everything has come down, you two realized that everything you’ve done starting last night had completely ruined your setup. 

Sure you two had sex inside the shower, but it was different. And Jake knows that too. There’s no way to deny the rapid beating of your heart, and as much as you wanted to acknowledge what you’re feeling right now, it still feels so wrong. 

“Thanks Jake,” you started. “Let’s just pretend everything didn’t happen.”

“Alright,” Jake shortly answers, not even batting an eye at you, and that earns a harsh tug on your heart. So quickly, you went out of the car and closed the door, leaving Jake who’s too quiet that he hadn’t realized that your words had crushed his heart. 

-

It’s been a week since you last saw Jake mainly for sex. You still see him in the club room, still in his serious president mode while you do your duties. You two haven’t talked personally and it sort of scared you. Wondering if you had hurt his feelings that day. 

But then again, no feelings should be involved, so why should you feel guilty about a possibility that shouldn’t happen in the first place? You chose to ignore it and decided to maybe take a break on your setup since things have been pretty busy lately, especially when graduation is in a few months. 

You only hum your way towards your department building, listening to your daily playlist — oblivious to the stares you’ve been receiving. You’re used to stares, but you didn’t notice that the stares were different from the usual looks you always receive. 

When you arrived at your classroom that’s when you realized that they suddenly felt cautious around you. Your forehead creased with confusion as it didn’t take you a minute to process everything because a classmate approached you. 

“They’re talking about you,” she said, tone filled with curiosity. “Is it true?”

“What’s true?” you asked, confused with her question. 

“Someone saw you having sex with Jake Sim in the club room.”

You felt your world shattering. Eyes wide as you looked at her as you freezed from where you were standing. 

“Where did you hear that?” you asked, trying to stitch up a lie because not only your image is in danger, but also your standing as a student. 

It’s a grief offense. You know what this may result. Suspension. Community service or maybe being stripped off the honor’s list — which is what you’ve been aiming for. No. This can’t be. 

“It’s circulating around the campus,” she said. “Everyone’s talking about you and Jake.”

Fuck, now it’s a hot topic inside the campus. You know how fast words can spread, and there’s no escape from it. Your lips started to tremble as you tried your best to try and make out a good excuse but another classmate approached you. 

“Hey, you alright? Mr. Choi is looking for you,” she whispered, an assuring pat on your back was all you felt as you nod at her. Nervousness hitting your body as the university’s disciplinary officer is looking for you. 

So it had reached the higher-ups? You could only let out a bitter smile as you turned around and left the classroom. Shame hitting your body that you couldn’t help but to lower your head as you walked your way towards the administration’s building. 

As you entered the office, you saw Jake sitting on the couch. Both looked at each other but no one said a word. Mr. Choi gestured to you to sit on the couch beside Jake, sitting on it while the man sat on his chair behind the table.

The air was cold and the tension was too suffocating. You’re there frozen as Mr. Choi stares at you two. 

“There’s a rumor circulating around the campus that you two were doing some…indecency inside the club room,” Mr. Choi started, both glancing at the two of you. 

Your hand finds its way to your finger, prickling on the skin of your thumb as your heart starts beating way too loud that it’s deafening your surroundings.

This is it. No more Latin honors. Suspension at a prestigious university, and you’re probably not going to graduate this year. Your parents will be disappointed with you, they’ll throw you out and —

“Is there proof?” Jake asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“There isn’t, but it’s spreading outside the campus,” Mr. Choi rested his hands on the table, and somehow that made you relieved. “You two are the image of a good Decelis student, so to hear this rumor — we wanted to take abrupt action.”

“As the image of a good Decelis I think me and ms. l/n knows that we should oblige to the rules of the university, and such indecency shouldn’t be done inside the club, even within the campus,” Jake answered. Blatantly lying through his breath as he gave Mr. Choi a smile —the professional one that he uses to talk to higher ups. That smile that convinces the higher-ups that he’s a good student and it’ll work, they’ll fall for it everytime. 

“Ms. l/n? Do you want to say anything?” you flinched as you looked at the disciplinary officer. 

“Mr. Sim is right Sir. Choi, acts like that are forbidden according to the school rulebook, we aren’t that stupid to ruin the image of Decelis” you simply said, nodding before quipping a small smile.

The man only looked at you for a minute before letting out a sigh. 

“I’m sorry for causing you two troubles,” Mr. Choi apologized. “I believe you two — it’s just, rumors can be true, and we’re just surprised it involves you two who are great students. I know that you two aren’t prone to pre-marital sex and relationships, but this just shocked not only me, but also other concerned staff.”

Jake lightens the atmosphere by chuckling softly. “We understand Mr. Choi. It's no worries on our part and we’re glad to cooperate with you. Whoever started the rumor must be bored with their life.” 

“Are you two together?” Mr. Choi asked all of a sudden, glancing at the two of you. 

“We’re not, we’re simply acquainted,” you answered quickly. Too quick that Mr. Choi noticed how your voice was a bit defensive.

The man merely chuckles. “Alright Ms. l/n, you two may go back to your class.”

As the two of you left the office, Jake’s racing heart slowly slowed down. He only stood there frozen as he would never have thought that in his life that he’ll lie to a higher-up — or even be sent to the disciplinary officer, or just find himself denying a rumor. 

His knuckles turned round, nails digging on the palm as he tried to calm himself down. But his mind was clouded, he tried to compose himself as he started walking mindlessly — not until he felt you grabbing his shoulders.

You had a worried look on your face. Eyes trying to look for his stare but he’s just too numb with everything that just happened. 

“Jake —”

“Can you give me time to think y/n?” he said with a cold tone, making you stop. Jake didn’t notice the way he talked to you. His mind is still hazy as he lets out a deep sigh, frustration written all over him but he’s trying hard to act rational.

“Give you time to think?” you inhaled, disbelief written on your face. “Did you even had time to think when you bended me on that table and fuck me all of the sudden?”

A glare was given to you before Jake scoffs. “Suddenly? You liked it too, didn’t you? I would’ve stopped if you just said the safe word — but you didn’t, you fucking enjoyed it too. So don’t put this blame only on me. We’re in this together.”

You didn’t argue back. Jake’s right. You liked it too. The risk and anxiety of getting caught, there was adrenaline when you two did it. It was consensual, that's why there’s no one to blame between the two of you. The only problem was that the rumors floated, and even if you two had denied it, people would still talk no matter what. 

Both your reputations are on the line. There’s no guarantee that there’s no proof. It might circulate in a few days or maybe weeks. You don’t know when but it’s scaring you. Even right now you’re scared, everything is at risk now. 

“I did enjoy it Jake,” you snarled at him. “And you’re right, we’re in this together, but I hate how you’re suddenly cold to me. Pushing me away like you weren’t so caring and gentle with me a few days ago.”

“You shouldn’t have given meaning to it,” Jake rebuts. “And the last time I recall, it was you who told me that we should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I am not giving meaning to it. It’s just that you’re so quick to suddenly be cold to me like it was my fault that there's a rumor spreading about us.” 

“Because you’re suddenly confronting me! Do you know how scared I was inside the office? Everything is at risk y/n, my title, image, my academic standing — I’m on the verge of not graduating this year!” Jake vented out. 

“You think you’re the only one who’s at risk? I’m also at risk Jake!”

“Then what do you want me to do? Comfort you? Make you feel better like I did that night? Can you live your life without getting validation from anyone!?”

That’s when Jake stopped — realizing that he crossed the line. The shocked expression written all over your face as your lips started to tremble, and yet, it formed into a thin line, holding yourself back as you raised your chin to face him.

“Is that what you really think of me? But what do I expect from you? You’re still a guy at the end of the day. You’re no different from other guys I’ve slept with.” you took a step forward. Eyes wide filled with frustration and anger. 

“You know what, you’re right Jake,” a bitter smile forming on your lips. “And it’s unfair because I trusted you that night, you assured me that we won’t be in trouble. But look at us now Jake.” 

“Then, you shouldn’t have trusted me,” Jake coldly rebutted. “Maybe I’m just an imposter just like you deep inside.”

“You really are Jake Sim,” you nodded in agreement. “Maybe you aren’t who I think you were, and I can’t believe you gave me enough validation and respect for me to think that I still have enough dignity left. And I’m not saying this because I gave meaning to it, I’m saying this because you still respected me despite our setup — but in the end, you’re going to throw me away like everyone else did, just because we got into trouble, for something both of us have done.” 

Jake didn’t say a word. You only heave out a sigh as tears start forming in your eyes. “And now, you’re looking at me like you’re so disgusted of me, like I’m the one who spread the rumors. But you know what? I don’t want to cause more trouble for you Jake. Let’s just end our setup, since you care more about your image than me.”

“Fine by me,” Jake simply replied. “And in the first place, I shouldn’t care about you, we’re fuck buddies remember?”

That was it. The final nail to the coffin. You can feel your heart crashing into thousands of pieces and you hated that feeling since it’s prohibited in the first place.

“You’re right Jake, and that’s what you’ll think of me, not the golden girl, not your vice president — or maybe a graduating student who’s also involved in the rumors. It’ll be easy for you to throw me away since no emotional attachment should be involved between the two of us.” 

You walked away first. The heavy feeling inside you becomes more heavier as the tears start to form while Jake’s eyes never leave you. He wanted to follow you, grab you arms and maybe, correct every word he said to you. But he remained glued from where he was standing, frustration still clouding in his mind and anxiety still high.

The whole day passed by in a glimpse. The rumors still circulated, Jake ignored it even though there were some strangers approaching him to ask if the rumors were true. He only walks away from them, especially when your name slips out of their mouth. 

You never left his mind. Not even when he returned to his apartment. Dropping his bag as he reaches to sit on the couch. He lets out a deep shaky exhale as his heart is still beating fast due to his anxiety, feeling it exploding any minute.

The door of the apartment opened, revealing his roommates. Shock written all over their faces and Jake immediately knew why. 

“The rumors,” Yunjin breathes. “Were they true?”

Jake didn’t answer Yunjin’s question. He only sat there frozen, creating a staring contest with his roommates.

“Shit it was real?” Yunjin asked, eyes almost popping out of its socket, “you two were so fucking horny that you two banged inside the club room!?”

“Wait, are you serious?” Aera stated. “I didn’t fucking expect that you two, Decelis’ supposed role students would have sex inside the club room.”

And the more they pointed out, the more guilt swelled in Jake’s heart. 

“Mr. Choi called us to his office,” Jake shared, earning a gasp from his roommates. 

“What happened?” Yunjin asked.

“Nothing, they don’t have proof, Mr. Choi thinks that we didn’t do it,” Jake explained, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “Stupid people, if they’re going to spread a rumor like that at least show some fucking proof.”

“Are you okay?” Aera concernedly asked. 

“I’m fine —” Jake stops for a moment, lips tightly sealed as he glances at his roommate. “I was just shit-scared for a second. I just didn’t expect this would happen.”

“You two should be glad that there were no videos or photos,” Yunjin stated. “Really, what went through your mind to do it in the club room.”

“I don’t know either, it was just the two of us left there, and we’re like the last students there,” Jake replied. “I did it out of impulse.”

“Jake, you never act out of impulse.”

“I know but —” Jake lets out a sigh. “I wonder what their reaction would be to see that their golden students are doing something indecent inside the campus.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “is that a fucking kink or something.”

“No, it’s something I’ve been thinking about, the feeling of disappointing people,” Jake answers. “Thinking of what their reaction would be if they realized that I’m not as “golden” as they think I am.”

“And you involved y/n in that impulsive idea of yours?” Yunjin angrily asked. “Jake, do you even know the cause of your impulsive idea?”

Jake didn’t answer. He suddenly remembered your confrontation earlier. Remembering that it’s not only him or his image that’s at risk. So is yours, and he just happened to make it worse even though it was his idea who brought you two here. Jake curses under his breath sharply, making both Yunjin and Aera looked at him. 

“You know it’s not only about what happened in the club room that’s been talked about right?” Aera added.

That’s when Jake glances at both of them, forehead creasing, “what do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” Aera exhales. “Her sex life has been spreading inside the campus, guys left and right are sharing that they slept with her, they think that she slept with almost every guy in Decelis.”

“You’re fucking kidding me?” Jake angrily asked.

“They’re going around calling her a hypocrite because she’s the golden girl but she sleeps with a lot of guys. They think she doesn’t deserve the title —”

“She got the title because she was intelligent and met its standard, why does it correlate with her sex life?”

“That’s just how people are Jake,” Aera answered. “No matter how intelligent or beautiful you are, the moment a scandal is linked to you — you're done.”

The guilt inside Jake’s heart became heavier. He doesn’t know that but it doesn’t matter, what mattered was that it was his fault why two got involved in a rumor. And instead of assuring her just like what he had promised that night, he pushed you away — even carelessly spat words that didn't mean anything.

“I fucked up,” he whispered. 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “what did you do?”

“I fucked up —” Jake deeply lets out a sigh, standing up from his seat, startling his roommates. “Shit, I said some things to her and —”

“Jake, stop,” Yunjin said, approaching Jake. “Breathe for us, calm down."

"How can I? I need to talk to her —"

"Give y/n space first, she might not be ready to talk to you.” Yunjin immediately interjected while she slowly pushes Jake down to sit on the couch once again.

“If it eases you, we can talk to her and ask how she is doing.” Aera suggested, with Yunjin agreeing.

“Please,” Jake breathed. “Tell her I’m sorry and —”

“You’re going to tell her that the next time you two meet,” Yunjin stated. “But for now, take some rest, we know that you’re also affected by what happened.”

Jake merely nods. He could only lower his head as all he could feel was guilt, shame, and anxiety. He didn’t even notice that Yunjin and Aera sat beside him, both arms wrapping around him as they lightly brushed Jake’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Jake only apologized. 

“We’re not mad at you,” Yunjin insisted.

“You’ve been thinking a lot don’t you? Failing?” Aera lightly asked.

“Yeah, in the end, I was still scared of it,” Jake explained. “I just realized that there’s still a hint of pride in being the golden boy.”

His roommates only nod, “but don’t ever do it again Jake. We still need to see you give the valedictorian’s speech.” 

“That’s not my goal you know?”

“Right, and if it was given to you, you’ll end up loving it still,” Aera argued, making the three of them laugh once again.

In the midst of the noise and chaos of today’s event, Jake finds himself in the tranquil comfort of his roommates, thankful that he had them by his side. 

-

It’s been a few days since the rumor aired — and you and Jake had called it off.

A few days and yet your name still lingered inside the campus. New rumors and false information that seem to be an exaggeration. At first, you were scared to go to Decelis, knowing that all eyes will be on you. You attended class and tried to be invisible as much as possible. You skipped your organizations and went straight home immediately. You didn’t want to cause more noise, knowing that your image is ruined and there’s no point of redeeming it. 

But today seems to be different. Jake was surprised to see you inside the club room, doing your duties as the student aid’s vice president. You had a serious look on your face as you talked to your assistant who seemed to be following your orders without any wariness.

Jake stood there for a moment before Jiwon called him out, snapping out of his thoughts as he sat beside Jiwon who immediately started her report. He lets his assistant talk but his eyes never leave yours. Wondering if he had approached you, would you push him away? Or talk to him and act like he’s just an acquaintance to you? Pretend everything about you two doesn’t exist?

It’s been a few days and you and Jake haven’t talked. The last thing he knew was that you don’t want to talk to him anymore. Yunjin told him that you don’t want to cause him trouble and Jake wanted to tell you that it’s not your fault — it’s his. He wanted to explain everything.

But everything’s ruined. His harsh words cut deep through you that not even a simple “sorry” could fix it. It didn’t help that you’re still being thrown off by everyone, so what’s the point of talking to Jake? Will it fix everything? Your only wish was that the remaining weeks would be peaceful because you just can’t wait to get the hell out of Decelis.

Hours passed inside the organization. The atmosphere was peaceful yet for Jake, it was suffocating with you still acting like he’s a ghost. 

“Jiwon, my team’s report is done now, I had it sent to your email,” Jake lifts up his head to see you standing in front of their table. But your eyes weren’t on him — you were talking to Jiwon like she’s the president of the club and the one you’re directly reporting to. 

Jiwon looks at her laptop, clicking a few buttons before glancing at you and giving you a smile, “All clear for me, you’re leaving now?”

“Yeah, I have errands to do,” you told Jiwon casually. “I’ll be going now, bye-bye.”

“Bye! Take care on the way home,” Jiwon smiled, and you gave the girl a smile — a small smile that Jake knows is out of decency. 

As you exit the club room, whispers start to murmur inside. Foul words and remarks about you began to echo around the room, making him tilt his head as he turned around to look at his staff. 

“Do you think that she’ll agree if I ask her to sleep with me?” a male sophomore snickered, and that was Jake’s breaking point. He was about to stand up when Jiwon’s voice got to him first. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Does your mom teach you manners?” Jiwon angrily said to the sophomore, creating tension inside the club room. “Before you say anything about y/n, check the fucking mirror first, you really think she’ll sleep with that face of yours?”

The sophomore apologized immediately, but Jiwon wasn’t having any of it, “she’s still your senior, the vice president of this organization — if you can’t respect her just because of a dismissed rumor, then fucking leave, we don’t want shitty people here.” 

No one dared to reply to Jiwon. Jake could only nod as Jiwon returned to her seat, going back to her work like she didn’t lecture the whole room. 

“It’s always the ugly guys who have the audacity,” Jiwon muttered under her breath, making Jake chuckle softly.

“I just hope y/n is okay,” she added, with a concerned look on her face. “I was surprised that she’s here today — have you talked to her?”

Jake was surprised with Jiwon’s question, “why would you think of that?”

“Because you’re the president!? And I know that the rumors about you two were quickly dismissed but you should’ve told her to lay low for a while, people still talk.”

Jake doesn’t know what to say to Jiwon. How can he tell her the whole context of the mess? It’s not that Jiwon will judge him, but it’s hard to explain everything to his friend.

So he only gave him a small smile before nodding, “I’ll tell her tomorrow, you seem to be worried about her.”

“Of course! Why would I? She’s kind and sweet, and what she does outside the campus doesn’t reflect her image inside,” Jiwon answers, and Jake wishes that you could’ve heard those words. 

-

But Jake wasn’t able to get the chance to talk to you the following day because a photo of you and him circulated around the campus. 

You heard it from a classmate of yours. Showing the photo which you only stared at for a minute. It was taken from outside. It was a bit blurry, but it’s the two of you kissing, clothes still intact, thankfully. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fully covered by Jake who was leaning towards you.

Your heart dropped on your stomach. You wanted to cry or maybe throw your classmates’ phone out of rage. But you returned it to her, giving her a bitter smile before putting on your earphones — deafening your surroundings, knowing that they’ll be talking behind your back. 

It had you wondering what’s the intention of the owner of the photo? Does it satisfy them to ruin one’s image? Why now? When they could’ve just posted it along with the rumor a few weeks ago. It’s like step by step, they wanted to ruin you two slowly. You don’t even know if their target is you or Jake or maybe both of you.

But as you sat there, you know it’s no use confronting that person. You’re just preparing for Mr. Choi to call you and give you a suspension for not only lying to him — but also for breaking school rules. 

But it never happened. The whole morning passed by with ease. Classes acted like normal, you listened to your teacher’s lectures like there’s not a photo of you circulating around. 

During lunch time, you decided to just skip the rest of the day and go back to your home and maybe, cry all of it because even though you’ve become numb from the past few days of being shamed by everyone, this one is just the cherry on top of everything that happened. 

You know that the stare will be there the moment you exit your department building. You didn’t care about them anymore, they’ve been talking about you a few days ago, this one isn’t new to you at all. So you walked with your head high, not caring if they're talking about you. You know they don’t see you as the golden girl anymore and honestly, you don’t care about them either.

“Y/n!” you stopped your tracks when you felt someone grabbing your shoulder. Turning around to see Yunjin and Aera along with her boyfriend, Jay. 

“Hey,” Yunjin was first to hug you, followed by Aera which confused you but you could only melt to their hug, grateful for the sudden comfort. 

“Are you okay? You know what, I shouldn’t have said that,” Yunjin quickly said as she broke from the hug. 

“I’m fine, I’m just — I don’t care about what people say anymore, they don’t even know the whole story,” you explained. “How’s Jake?”

Both of them only stared at each other, and it made you raise an eyebrow.

“Is he okay?”

“Jake’s going to owe up everything,” Yunjin confessed. “He’s talking to Mr. Choi at the moment.”

You felt your ears deafening at the sudden revelation. “Wait — why!? Why would he do that? He’ll be suspended.”

“Why do you think so y/n?” Aera smiles at you, and for a moment, you were confused by it. Then it just sinked into your mind. 

“It’s not because of me isn’t it?” you slowly asked.

His roommates only exchanged a fair share of glances. — that’s when you knew. Your feet quickly turned around to run towards the office of the student affairs, while Yunjin and Aera watched as you disappeared in their sight. A small smile tugging both on their lips.

You were catching your breath as you reached the second floor. Turning left towards the long hallway where Mr. Choi’s office was. Sprinting towards there, your feet halted when the door swung open, revealing Jake who seemed to be at ease. 

The two of you stood there, staring at each other. For a minute, no one said a word but Jake looked at you and then smiled. 

“What did you do?” you asked, catching your breath.

“Everything’s settled now,” Jake simply said. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m not worried about myself, people are already calling me names Jake, I’m worried about you,” you pointed out. “What about your reputation? Your candidacy for valedictorian?”

“And let you take all the blame again? It’s fair that I’ll be punished too.”

“I don’t need you to that for me Jake, I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore —”

“It’s my fault in the first place why we’re here,” Jake owns up. “It’s right that I receive disciplinary action from it.”

“No —”

“It’s okay, it’s fair,” he assured. “You’re not going to be alone in this one. I won’t let you.”

At that moment, Jake slowly walked towards you who stood there frozen. You don’t know why but the moment Jake’s a step closer to you, you could only wrap your arms around him, face hiding against his chest as he embraces you warmly.

Even after everything that happened between the two of you, you feel like it felt right to be in Jake’s touch. You missed him so damn much. 

“I’m sorry.” you could only say.

“Don’t say that, I should be the one apologizing,” Jake insisted but that only made you hide in his touch. 

“What will happen to you?”

“They only gave me warning,” Jake heaves out a breath. “They’re looking for the photo leaker, and they might receive a bigger punishment for taking photos without consent and ruining Decelis’ image — Mr. Choi thinks that we were just kissing inside the club room.”

Then you realized, the angle of the photo made it look like you two aren’t doing something indecent, just a light makeout. You don’t know if you’ll be relieved hearing those words. 

“You okay?’ he asked you, hands on your back as he lightly rubs it. 

“Yeah,” you only nod.

There should be a relief in you. Everything’s all settled now. Jake only received a fair warning. He wasn’t suspended and owned up to everything. He took the blame but you still feel anxious, you couldn’t help but worry that there’s more to come. 

“Are you sure?” Jake asked once again.

“Of course,” you nodded once again. 

“Do you want to get away from here?” he asked, that’s when you look at him. 

“Can we?”

And the only thing Jake did was grab your hand, squeezing it tightly before giving you an assuring smile. 

-

You two found yourself at the same spot. It felt different going there during the afternoon. But the gentle breeze of spring dissolves completely the afternoon sun. Jake had parked the car on the side of the road. Noise of cicadas and rustling leaves gave nothing but quiet comfort. 

Sitting by the hood of the car, the two of you munched on the burgers that you two bought through a drive-thru. Eating in silence as no one has the courage to bring up the elephant in the room. 

You only stared at a huge city that almost became a solace for you for the past few years that you’ve been studying in Decelis. It felt vaguely weird to stare at it during the day. But you come to realise that in a few months, you’ll be deciding whether to go back to your hometown and work there or maybe stay in the city, opening another opportunity for you. 

“Looking at the city,” you mumbled quietly. “I realized that we’re just small — no, just a tiny part of a huge place. That there’s a thousand strangers there who don’t know us.” 

Then, it crossed your mind all the things that happened to you for the past few days. Making you bitterly laugh as you take a sip on your drink. 

“In the end, we’ll graduate in Decelis and everything that happened will just be a memory for everyone.” you added, but there’s a deep sigh escaping on your lips. “I know that but right now, it’s so shitty. It’s like suddenly, my dignity is gone — I only slept with eight guys throughout college! And three of them don't even study in Decelis!” 

Jake didn’t say a word. He only gazed at you as you munched on your burger angrily, smiling softly at your cute expression. 

“But you know what? I’m just convincing myself that in the end, these people don’t know me at all, and they can talk shit about me all they want, spread lies and false information, I don’t care about it anymore. At least I don’t badmouth other people the moment gossip spreads inside the campus.” 

Jake kept quiet. Watching you take a sip on your drink before taking a bite on your fries. Jake’s stare remained at you for a moment. Hearing nothing but the faint beating of his heart against the breeze of the night, Jake knew that you have a lot of resentment in your heart. And he could feel nothing but guilt with it.

Even if he had owed up the rumors and only received a warning, he knows that it wasn’t enough for you to forgive him. Jake looks at his half-bitten burger before glancing back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake started. “I’m sorry for causing harm to you, I shouldn’t have done it. And I’m sorry for lashing it out to you because the truth is, I was scared too.”

You remained glued to the view, but hearing that Jake was scared? That surprised you. It shocked you to hear that Jake, the person who you always considered as stoic and rational, was scared of something. 

“I thought, I don’t care about my title. That corny piece of title that only brings weight to my shoulders.” Jake spat, frustrated by the thought. “It’s not my fault that I’m like this, and it had me wondering, what would happen if they placed the title to the wrong person? Someone who isn’t who they think he is?”

Then, he lets out a bitter laugh. “What we did inside the club room was an impulsive idea. When we got caught, I was scared. I was afraid of disappointing people, and I realized I’m not going to let everything I’ve done become a waste just because of an impulsive idea.”

“Then I heard from Yunjin and Aera, that you took more damage than me. They were right, the whole day there weren’t any disgusting remarks about me — but you, you’re hearing worse and I pushed you away. I hurt you, I said words out of anger and told you I didn't care about you.”

“And I fucked up, I’m sorry I fucked up. You don’t have to accept my apology y/n but I’m sorry, I care for you — I don’t see you as my fuck buddy, you’re more than that and you know that. I just want to let you know that I didn’t mean every word that I’ve said back then.” 

“Is that why you confessed to Mr. Choi? Because you feel guilty of what happened? Did it ease your conscience when you did it?” you argued. 

“I did it because it’s the right thing to do,” Jake argued. “It’s my fault we’re here and I’m going to owe up to it, I didn’t do it just to clear my conscience.” 

You only laugh at his words, “wow, that’s so rational of you. You really are the golden boy, you even managed to save your image. Lucky you.”

Then, quietly you glanced at him. "You owning up to the rumors doesn’t change anything Jake. I’ll still be called a slut but this time with evidence, so I don’t know why you went through all that trouble when the damage has been done.”

“I don’t want you to get involved today, that’s why I told Mr. Choi, it was my idea,” Jake explained. “I don’t want your latin honors to be stripped away from you.”

“And in exchange, you let go of yours, Jake I don’t need you to do that,” you protested. 

“I know you don’t need to, but I want to,” Jake insisted. “Because you deserve it, you deserve to go up on stage and receive a medal. You’re the golden girl and you’re going to prove those who wronged you that you deserve that title.” 

You didn’t say a word, you only stared at Jake who only gave you a small smile. Cold wind passed by the two of you as you remained quiet because of Jake’s words. With everything that happened, you have completely lost the title. You don’t see yourself worthy of it and so does everyone.

“You really think so?” you asked. 

“You deserve it more than me,” Jake genuinely said. 

You wanted to cry, but all of your tears have dried up. So you gave him a bitter smile which made Jake stretch out his arms, and a small smile which you knew, so you scooted over him who only wrapped his arms around you. That’s when you felt at ease once again. Heart tired yet comforted when Jake’s warmth touches your skin.

“You’re more than just the golden girl y/n, you’re everything, remember that,” Jake breathes once again. 

“It’s hard to think of it when everyone doesn’t see you in that way anymore,” you let out a deep sigh.

“They’re just jealous of you,” Jake lightly teased, and that made you laugh.

“That’s right, they’re just probably jealous of me,” you lightly smiled. “In the end, I still have the title, my GPA's still higher than them. — and I’m just going to assume that those who talked shit most about me are virgins and guys with small dicks.”

That’s when Jake let out a laugh, making you laugh as you nuzzled more in his shoulders. 

“That’s a crazy thing to say.” 

“We’ll never know if it’s true or not,” you smiled. “Those guys who bragged sleeping with me, should be lucky because if I’m so petty, I would’ve shared a list and rated their dick and size performance.”

Jake hums, “I wonder what’s my rate in there.”

“Ten out of ten, you weren’t called the golden boy for nothing,” you sarcastically replied. 

Both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You could only feel Jake’s cheeks pressing against your head as silence hovered the two of you. A silent truce between the two of you was made. Both knew that there’s no point of arguing anymore since people will talk shit no matter what. 

“Do you think, if we don’t have our title, people wouldn’t bat an eye on what we did?” you asked out of blue.

Jake only hums, his hand patting your shoulders in soft beats. “People still talk.”

For a moment, you were quiet, then a frown formed on your lips. “A lot of students did it at the lover’s garden, but I don’t hear them dropping names.”

“Maybe it really has something to do with our reputation.” Jake concluded.

“I wonder what would happen if we told them the actual truth,” you blurted out. 

“Let’s not go there, I still want to graduate.”

And a chuckle escapes your lips. “So do I.”

“Maybe in five years or more, during homecomings. That’ll cause a stir.” Jake laughs, making you chuckle. “In the end, it’ll be just a small memory of our college life — but hey, at least we had a core memory.”

You two fall under silence once again. Enjoying the peaceful tranquility as slowly, the sun deepened and the city slowly started to fall to its golden hour. You could never be not in awe with the view, and you were glad that Jake brought you here. An escape from everything, somewhere in the middle of a small road, you suddenly remember the first time he brought you there.

“You know, this isn’t the right timing, but do you remember that time you brought me here the first time?” That's when you separated from his touch, looking at him with an innocent look.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I was really down for sex that time,” you laughed. “I was curious what car sex would be like.”

For a minute, you two were quiet before Jake could only let out a soft chuckle as he said “Get inside, backseat.”

Both of you jumped out of the hood of the car. Heart racing as you open the backseat, watching Jake open the car’s engine first, turning on the air conditioner before shuffling towards the backseat. 

Eager, you two immediately crash each other’s lips onto another. Teeth clashing, sloppy, and breath-stealing as Jake’s hand’s grab your waist and push you to lay down, head resting on the car's window as he continues to makeout with you. 

Hastily, you fumbled the belt of his slacks, pulling it down along with his boxers so that his cock sprang free from its strain. A soft gasp escaped his lips as you started stroking it fast and tight. You missed this. You missed his touch and the way he pounds inside you, you can already feel your core getting wet by the thought that you’ll be fucked by Jake again.

The two continued making out inside the car. Tasting each other's lips like you two were starved for years, it was rush and eager. The temperature started to rise, fogging the window as you two were too lost to care if any car might pass by and witness the obscenity inside the car. 

“To think we’re still wearing our school uniforms,” Jake mumbled between your kisses. His hands finding its way on your blouse, unbuttoning it hastily to reveal your pink bra which hugs your breast perfectly. 

“I guess this is the real scandal for us,” you teased before lightly grazing the tip of his cock on your clothed pussy. Soft moans escaped on each other’s lips as Jake couldn’t help but to rut against your cunt.

“I can’t wait anymore —”

“Me too, just fuck me Jake.”

Quick and hasty, Jake helped you slide down your panties until it hangs on your left ankle. One leg lifted on his shoulder while the other one was sprawled on the floor. 

It was cramped and small but your mind was now in haze. Jake was eager as he pushed his shaft inside you, your cunt pulsing on its bulbous head, as you forget how big his dick was, making you deeply gasp. You moaned loudly when Jake began thrusting inside you that the sudden pleasure left you choking on your breath. Mouth wide as you gasp for air — until Jake instinctively wrapped his hands around your neck, making you roll your eyes in pleasure. 

The car started creaking against the ground. Windows fogging up as your hand clasped on the windows while Jake continued pounding inside you. Bodies were starting to sweat, wetting and creasing your uniforms but the ministry didn’t stop. You two wanted to make up for the lost time, the pleasure becoming too intense that only cursed words and breathy sounds escape on each other’s lips. 

“Shit —” Jake cursed as he raises your hips and slams his cock at a new angle, earning a whimpering moan from you. “So good, all mine — want to make you mine.”

You gasp for air as those words haze your mind. “Jake —” 

“You don’t know how crazy you drive me y/n, shit —” Jake started blubbering words. Messy, word vomits as he continues pounding inside you. 

“You can’t just say that — ugh, hngh! while railing me —” you grabbed his tie, tugging him closer until he’s an inch close to your face. “It's not fair!”

Jake realized the words escaped his lips, he knew it was wrong and whatever you two have is still blurry. “Then forget it —” 

“No, fuck you! Is this real?” you snarled at him. “Jake, tell me, is this real?”

“I’m serious,” Jake answered immediately, and your eyes only widened. 

“Jake —”

“I’m fucking serious —” he presses his forehead on yours, thrusts turning into slow, sensual grinding, something that made you even fell his hard cock penetrate your walls full. “At some point, we’ve broked our setup the moment you we were together but didn’t fuck.”

“But pretended like we’re nothing —”

“And it kills me every damn time. You don’t know how it pains me to ignore you, to not cross boundaries but fuck — I want us to be something else aside from this set-up.”

You were stunned. You never thought that Jake would confess. You know that there were a lot of times were the lines were blurred, there were moments that were too intimate to be considered as something fuck buddies would do.

And you like every bit of it. You know that emotional attachment is prohibited, it’ll ruin your professional, monogamous set-up that’s only for the sake of pleasuring each other. 

But you’re ruined for Jake enough to not care about the rules. After everything that happened between the two of you, the least you could have was having him by your side, and it seems like the gods are in your favor because Jake is also in the same whirlwind as you are. 

“I like you too Jake,” you confessed to him. “The truth is I didn’t want to talk to you because I was scared of my feelings. I like you enough that I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore.”

“Fuck — and that had me spiraling, you’re ruining me you know?” and with that, Jake plants a kiss on your lips.

“What happened to being rational?”

“All gone the moment you let me fuck you,” a sharp thrust stabs your pussy, earning a moan from you as you look at Jake who only smiled at you. “All I need is your words baby, and you’ll be mine.”

“Take me Jake,” you told him. “Want to be yours.”

Jake moves his hips once again. Grabbing your other legs as he folds it onto your chest, slipping out his cock and slamming it with one sharp thrust, earning a loud moan from you. 

He continued pounding on you harshly. The new angle hitting your sensitive spot which made you cry further in pleasure. Jake grunts as he stabs your tight, warm walls with his huge length nonstop. Pride swelling inside him as your juices started to coat his dick. 

“Fuck!” you mewled, stretching out the word as you felt your stomach knotting in a pit.

“You’re gonna cum now? Cream my cock baby, show me who owns this pussy,” Jake ordered as he continued thrusting inside you. 

The car creaked more aggressively as you reached your orgasm, crying loudly as Jake followed after. Groaning loudly as warm cum painted your walls white. He brings down your legs after a few seconds, lightly massaging your thighs as he hovers over you and peppered your face with kisses.

“You did good, baby,” Jake whispered to you, kissing you on the lips softly while you only whined as he pulled out from your pussy.

“We’re not doing this ever again,” you told him, and that made him stop, surprised by your words. “It’s too cramped! I’d rather be in bed, at least we’re comfy there.”

It took a minute for Jake to sink what you said before laughing and kissing your temples. “Ever thought of trying it in the kitchen? Maybe you’ll let me eat you —”

“Not going to happen,” you gritted your teeth. “God, were still acting like we’re fuck buddies.”

“At least we can finally act as lovers now,” Jake teasingly said before hovering you once again for a deep kiss. Full of love and yearning for you. 

-

Epilogue.

The huge convention hall was filled with thousands of graduating students. Wearing their best formal dresses and suits, the atmosphere was lively and bolstering with noise and excitement. 

It was the annual graduation night. The opening for the university’s graduation season. Every graduating student was invited to celebrate the end of their college life — and the beginning of another chapter in their life. It was their last night to socialize and meet new people. 

You entered the hall clad in a long maroon dress that gives your body a silhouette along with a pearl set from your mother. But that wasn’t the reason all heads turned to you.

Next to you was Jake, heavenly to look at with his black button-up, sleeves folded revealing his strong arms, right hand holding your left hand. He stood there proud with his clean brush-up hair, suiting his sharp godlike face along with his black-rimmed glasses. 

After you two decided to be together, your relationship remained a secret since you two don’t want to add fuel to the fire even though you two don’t care about each other’s damaged reputation anymore. You two remained professional inside the campus, no glances or subtle touches, which made everyone assume that the photo is just a hoax since you and Jake kept quiet about it. 

The rumors disappeared after a few weeks. You heard that the photo owner got suspended due to some violations. Whatever Jake negotiated with Mr. Choi worked in your favor. People still talk, but you’ve learned to prioritize your peace and just let people wander. 

Yet, you were still a petty girl inside. So you two dropped the bomb during the graduation night by attending it with Jake, close like lovers and it made everyone wonder — what’s the deal between the two of you? Were you two together because you two hold the same title? Or were the rumors actually true?

As their eyes remained at you two, you could only smile as you focused on the photographer’s words, telling you to pose like lovers which only made you smirk before resting your head on Jake who instinctively placed his hands on your waist while the two of you posed for the camera. Jake heed no attention to the strangers around, all he thinks is that tonight is a night of celebration with you and his close friends. 

All eyes remained at you two as you walked towards your reserved table where Jake’s close friends and roommates were seated, watching the scene unfold earlier. 

“You guys know how to make an entrance,” Jay teased, arms resting on Aera’s chair who’s smiling ear to ear. “You guys beat Heeseung and Jiwon in stealing tonight’s attention.”

“A few months ago, you two got caught into some scandal, now you decided to attend the night together? You guys are just stirring the rumor again,” Heeseung obliviously laughed, the whole table was laughing but Jake and you only glanced at his roommates who were holding back their laugh.

“Let people wander,” you only smiled. 

While waiting for the program to start, you only socialized within the table. Listening to their stories and jokes, you find yourself laughing at the embarrassing things they share, especially when it involves your boyfriend who only looks away with a small smile on his face. His hands rested lightly on your thigh while both your hands circled around it. Fidgeting with the rings on it, giving you a sense of comfort on it.

“Just in time, you two are here!” the two of you turned around to see Yunah, the new editor-in-chief of Decelis Publications, approaching your table. “We’re interviewing graduating students for our post, and of course, we couldn’t miss interviewing you two.”

Jake glanced at you who only smiled at the girl. “Sure, we don’t mind.”

You two follow Yunah at a corner where it wasn’t that crowded, she explains how it’ll be done, giving you two one question: what’s the one thing that you’ll miss in Decelis?

“The student aid,” Jake answered without any hesitation. “They helped me during my freshman year, and I’ve been with them from the start. I hope that the new set of officers will continue the act of helping each other and becoming a support system to our students.”

Yunah only smiled at them, “as expected from the president of the organization, how about you ms. y/n?”

“Same with me! I’ll miss helping students and its communal unity, the organization is a safe space and I hope it continues to do so, especially to incoming freshmen.” you explained. 

“That’s such a wonderful answer from both of you. It’s no wonder that the students this year were at ease. Both of you were in charge of the organization,” Yunah shared, and that thought eases your heart. 

“It’s not just us, but it’s the whole organization who made an effort,” Jake rebutted, and you only nodded in agreement.

Yunah only smiled as she jots down the answer. “Okay, I have a bonus question just only for the two of you. Since you two currently hold the title of the ‘golden boy’ and ‘golden girl,’ who are you eyeing to pass the title to?”

But both you and Jake only looked at each other, a meaningful smile before glancing back at Yunah who’s waiting for your answer. 

“We don’t know honestly,” you laughed. “You have to earn it, and it’s not something we can pass to someone. But to whoever will be the next after us, I hope they wear it with confidence.”

“And, don’t let it be a weight that you’ll have to carry. They gave it to you because they know you deserve it, just like what y/n said, wear it with confidence.” Jake added.

“Woah, no wonder the title was given to the two of you,” Yunah said. “Thank you for the interview, but between you two and me, are you two together?” “We’ll keep that one a secret.” you winked.  

The program started a few minutes later. A few messages from the directors and administrators of the university, inducing a warm applause from the students. It was followed by the formal proclamation of the awards and student leaders while food was served to every table. 

One by one, the people at your table would go up and receive their honors. You could only smile as they receive their achievements with a smile. Soon, the table was filled with certificates and glass trophies.

“And for this year’s batch valedictorian,” the director announced. You only looked at Jake as your hands found his, fingers intertwining as a stranger’s name was called by the director. A pity smile was all you can give but Jake squeezes your hands. 

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled, knowing that it wasn’t his goal. “I’m still the valedictorian of the engineering department.”

You only laughed at his comment, watching him tug your clasped hands near his heart. “Plus, you're mine now, and I think that's a bigger win than being the batch’s valedictorian.”

A smile and blush on your face was all he could see before you looked away. “I hate you and your flowery words Jake Sim.”

“I love you too,” he whispered to your ears, making you smile before stealing a kiss on his cheeks, taking it as an opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. Feeling at ease as you listen to the student’s speech.

“Hey, do you wanna know when I knew that I had fallen for you?” Jake asked out of blue. 

You hummed for a second, curiosity killing you. “Shoot.”

“It was when I saw you talking to Yunjin and Aera by the dining table,” Jake answered. “I remembered how you said your friends aren’t around, and seeing you laughing with them, I don’t know, it feels like you fit with them.”

You felt your heart swelling with joy as you looked up at Jake who only had his boyish smile. 

“Jake, that was so sweet — I can’t believe you would think of that,” you smiled, eyes gleaming bright as your free hand found its way to Jake’s nape, brushing his hair delicately. “Wanna know mine?”

“Go on,” he grins. 

“When we had sex at the club room,” you straightforwardly said, watching Jake’s eyes widen and smile turning into a thin line. 

“Kidding! It was when you didn’t want to have sex with me because I was vulnerable,” you explained, the teasing smile on your face shifted into a genuine one. “It made me realise that there are guys who still respect me even if I'm okay with it.” 

Jake could only scoff in disbelief before pinching your cheeks, making you whine as he grins teasingly. “So somewhere in our setup we really broke the rules.”

“And I’m glad we did,” you stated, tapping the end of his nose. “And I’m kinda glad you confessed first because I’ll most likely bring my feelings for you to my grave.”

“It was a swirl of the moment!” Jake rebutted, and it only made you laugh. “What happened to ‘it’s proven that college couples break up after graduation?’” you reminded.

And before he could answer, Jake steals a short kiss on your lips, surprising you as the smirk on his lips formed. “We’ll prove it wrong then.”