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ahundredtimesover · 6 months

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I Want You to Stay (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of implied of domestic violence (PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 20.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii we're close to the end! I've been enjoying this journey with all of you; thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I continue to work and study. On another note, pls savour this! Hehe

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The weekend after your site visits passes by excruciatingly slowly.

You zone out while watching your variety shows the rest of Saturday. On Sunday, you do errands and clean your apartment. Whether you’re lying on the couch or moving about, you find yourself constantly stopping, wondering how Jungkook is doing.

You could say that the trip ended on a good note. The drive back home had you sharing both the silence and conversations about growing up with your friends and finding refuge in your favorite places. He was smiling as you narrated your stories and while he told his. He was engaged most of the time, drifting away for only some short moments before coming back to you.

There was a different emotion in his eyes when you said your goodbye after he dropped you off, though. You could see gratitude in them but also sadness, as if the memories from the night before and from 20 years ago lingered. You know enough about that, too. Good memories can override bad ones sometimes, but in some cases, they only do so for a while, and they can only do so much.

The image of him of looking afraid from that Friday night is etched in your mind. The way he heaved, how he gripped your wrists as if in desperation for the sounds to stop, and the emptiness in his eyes as the thunder continued to roar keep you up at night.

You felt so constrained at that moment. There wasn’t much you could do that would be appropriate, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t wish you could’ve done something more to comfort him, to tell him that no matter how scared he was, he wasn’t alone. That night and the morning after, you saw the most human side of Jungkook - the one that buries a lot of memories, that deals with pain and loneliness, the part that’s fearful of others seeing him stripped bare, that cowers in his own corner until the storm has passed. You saw him as someone who needs a companion but is too scared, maybe too stubborn to reach out. He looked familiar because he looked like you.

All you could do was hold him in any way, protect him from the monsters outside and maybe within, and show him that whatever hurt, gentleness could make it hurt less; hopefully it could slowly heal the ache, too.

That’s what you learned all these years - all the fear and pain you experienced as a child slowly turned into scars because of your mother’s grace and your best friends’ kindness. You don’t know who gives any of that to Jungkook, and you hoped that during that moment, you were able to give even just a fraction of what you received.

Even if he kept his distance, you stayed close because you knew that that’s when he needed you the most. And you won’t ever forget the way his eyes softened during that ride home; you won’t forget the smile tinged with apology and gratitude that accompanied the silence. You knew it was his way of expressing emotions he couldn’t verbalize and you could only wish that he knew that you accept them, that you understand.

You stop yourself from sending him messages a few times, not wanting to invade his space if he prefers to be alone. Maybe he’s figured out a way to cope. Maybe he’s moved on from the incident and wants to just forget about it. Regardless, the last thing you want is to push him away by being too close, so you do the hard thing and wait for the start of the week to see him again.

You enter the car that Monday morning with Mr. Ri’s soft eyes greeting you. You ask if he’s feeling better and he says he is, expressing his disappointment at not being there to drive you and Jungkook last week.

“How was he?” He asks, knowing that the weather was pretty bad.

“He wasn’t good,” you answer dejectedly. “I think he had a nightmare. I had to calm him down. And he… he told me what happened at that cabin when he was young. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was. He was just a kid. He was only excited about the trip because he thought his parents were joining him and his brother,” the elder man says. “And well, that was when they had to be separated for safety reasons. Then that incident happened. I think he’s carried that resentment towards them ever since.”

“Were you there?”

“I was the one who found him,” Mr. Ri answers, baring his own pain at having witnessed a young Jungkook being so scared. “I noticed he was missing and I searched for over an hour. It was a big area and the ground was wet and I couldn’t hear him because of the rain. When I finally found him, I carried him back and stayed with him until he woke up. He was so frightened and he… he wasn’t the same after. There was this constant fear and this desire to just be left on his own.”

You force the scene of a young Jungkook yelling for someone under the rain out of your mind. Perhaps the detachment in his eyes that you always see is a remnant from that time when he’d felt so helpless and alone. You don’t know how someone can carry that with them for 20 years. You don’t know how someone heals from that either.

“I know he’s not your responsibility, ___. You’ve done so much for him already,” Mr. Ri continues in your silence. “But no one has shown him kindness the way you have and he's learned to accept that now. He needs it the most during those times. If it’s not too much, I hope you can continue doing that.”

“I intend to,” you respond. It had been natural for you to be gentle, to be patient, and reluctant he may have been at the start, you know your persistence helped him as well. “He’s done so much for me and I don’t think I’ll ever get to thank him for that.”

“Is that why, then?” He wonders. “Is all this just to repay him for the times he was there for you? Or is there another reason?”

You meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and the sullen, almost guilty look in yours tells him that there's more. When you look away, he learns it’s something you don’t want to accept, something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s okay, you know?” He says, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking and maybe he does. “We can’t help what we feel sometimes.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you sigh.

“I know it isn’t. But I just think that being honest about what you feel helps. It may not be easy but you owe it to yourself to find the happiness you deserve.”

“But I don’t know what that looks like.”

“You do,” he insists. “Maybe you’re just scared of what chasing it would mean. But if you allow yourself to truly feel what you feel, then it would be clear what you’d need to do. Just remember that whatever decision you make, you’re gonna have to stand by it, okay? You can’t regret any of it.”

You let his words settle, knowing that they come from a place of pain. But still, you ask a question you’ve been meaning to for a while now.

“Do you regret the decision you made back then?”

Mr. Ri prolongs the silence. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he answers.

“Everyday.”

Your heart breaks for him. You know what he did all those years ago, and knowing that it continues to haunt him pains you. You don’t want that burden. You don’t want one decision to determine how the rest of your life is gonna go with no way to make up for it. You suppose that’s what will happen to you, but you’ve got time to change all that. Maybe you just need the courage to do it.

“The debt I owed kept me from chasing my happiness,” he continues. “You’ve paid yours so don’t let it stop you. You just have to be brave enough for it.”

You nod, meeting his eyes through the mirror this time in understanding and gratitude, letting his words comfort you as you exit the car.

You walk towards Jungkook’s penthouse in anticipation, as the worry of how he’s been creeps in again. The moment you enter, you get your answer, as you hear the sound of leather hitting leather, the loudest it’s ever been. You could hear him heaving, almost breathless with every movement, but he grunts in between, and you hear the frustration in his every breath.

From your position in the kitchen, you can see him in the far right corner of his gym, throwing one punch after another, his face wincing in pain, his body gradually giving in as he slows down. He hugs the punching bag with one arm while his free hand continues to jab at it until eventually, that stops, too. He releases it then spreads his body out on the floor as he tries to catch his breath now. You can feel his exhaustion; there’s desperation, too.

He stays there for a while, and you wonder if he’s releasing whatever negative emotions he’s had these past days just now, or if this is what he’s been doing everyday since he got back.

He sits up, and you look away the moment he glances at your direction. He heads your way, nods at you in acknowledgment, then gulps down the energy drink that he takes from the fridge. His drenched white shirt sticks to his body, but it’s his bruised knuckles that catch your attention. You don’t know if these wounds are from this morning or from the days before but regardless, he acts as if they’re not there. You doubt if he even feels them sting.

Perhaps this is how he copes with anything - tiring himself out, expending all his energy until he’s numb, releasing his emotions in a way that doesn’t require him to be honest or to even say anything. Maybe this is how he accepts; maybe it’s how he moves on and forgets.

He drags himself towards his bedroom then you make your way to his closet to prepare his clothes. You return to the kitchen soon after and decide to make some fried rice. It’s the one dish you make that might make a difference to his mood this morning, so you get to work and cook with what you can, deciding that it’s definitely one of the most delicious ones you’ve ever made.

He finishes his morning routine later than usual. When you walk towards him to fix his tie, you try to hold his gaze, wanting to tell him in your own way that you’re there if he ever wants to talk, but he only glances at you before looking away. You’re unsure of the cause of his somber disposition but the sadness in his eyes causes a crack in your heart. It’s different, you think, and you don’t know how else you can comfort him.

“I made some fried rice,” you tell him as you walk to the dining table.

He follows, taking his seat then quietly eating his meal as you go through his schedule. He merely hums and doesn’t ask questions, only speaking up when you bring up last week’s site visits, with him saying that there’s no rush for that, and that you’ll talk about it some other time. It’s what tells you that what happened last Friday isn’t something he’s really gotten over. Maybe there are still remnants from that night - of fear, of discomfort; perhaps a bit of shame. And you don’t blame him. They’re what you felt after the incident at the restaurant and after your injury. Being helpless in front of someone is confronting; there’s so much of yourself that gets exposed, and you suppose it’s not something that Jungkook is used to.

You share in the silence, glancing at him to see if what you’ve prepared is affecting him in any way, and you don’t miss the subtle satisfied look he makes once he finishes his meal. It’s what prompts you to push it a little. You stand up, take an ice pack from the fridge, then retrieve the first-aid kit from the drawer. Taking a seat next to him, you lay your palm out on the table, gesturing for him to give you his hands to treat.

“There’s no need,” he says, turning away again.

“I let you push my wheelchair,” you remind him. “And I let you dress my foot.”

“You were injured.”

“And you have gashes on your hands,” you point out. “Which means you’re wounded and you can’t leave those exposed. So please, would you let me do this for you?”

There’s a hint of desperation in your voice, as if all you want is for him to give in and let you help him. You’ve been trying to meet his eyes since you arrived and he’s been the coward who avoids it every time. But the last thing he wants is for you to think that he wants to push you away because he doesn’t; he just doesn’t know how to act around you after what happened last Friday. It may have ended with your unspoken forgiveness and your smile telling him that he’ll be alright, that you’ll be alright, but the past days haven’t been good to him.

In an effort to show you that he’s not angry, he moves his hand towards yours ever so slightly. He doesn’t look at you when you take his left hand and put it over your palm, but he does feel his heart skip a beat at your touch. You place the ice pack over his knuckles, then you move it over to his other hand so you can put antiseptic cream on the one that’s free.

You’re so gentle with him even when tending to his wounds. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially now, as he sees you make an effort in letting him know that everything’s okay and that you’re around in case he needs anything.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what he needs right now. After last week’s incident when he blamed you for not checking the weather, he felt ashamed. He’d apologized for how he used to treat you right before that, and then he went ahead and did all that again over a fear of his that he couldn’t get over, one that came to light that night.

You saw it all - that part of him that he despises, that he keeps hidden, that he’s burdened by.

That was another thing - you were the one who woke him up and kept him steady. Perhaps it was a nightmare he was having, but it’s also always been the way his body reacted to the rain and the thunder because of what happened when he was a child. But you saw him bare and terrified, a side of him he wasn’t sure you’d want to see or be around for. You saw him weak and helpless, things he never wants to be in front of other people. You experienced him being honest and not in control, and that made him feel unguarded.

You held him steady though, grounding him when he was slowly losing himself to the fear. Your hands on his head kept him in the present, pulling him back when his mind would travel to that fateful rainy evening in the woods. Your calm and soft voice sounded like a lullaby to him, fighting away the loud sounds that have haunted him for years. It soothed parts of him that were hurting, and you’d done it so naturally, so easily.

It’s what prompted him to share with you the memory he just can’t erase. And you told him that he could call you when it happened again so you can both replace the bad memories with good ones. Maybe you want him to be brave; he thinks that’s not something that he is.

Maybe that’s why he’s been this way since he got home that day. There’s a lot of emotion he doesn’t know how to express nor even properly name. He’s sure they’re negative though, and somehow that makes him even more ashamed. He doesn’t like not being in control. He doesn’t like being that bare and uninhibited, especially in front of you, the only person he doesn’t want to scare away.

He spent the entire weekend boxing and running around the Han River parks in hopes that all the tiredness would help keep his mind off things. But somehow, it always ended up thinking of you. It wanted to hear your voice once more; it wanted your touch.

He has them again today and he feels undeserving. Yet you’re here, healing his physical wounds and everything else that’s hurting within in the ways only you know how to. And he just wants to pull you close. He realizes now that even on days when he hates himself, you’re the one he wants to be around. Somehow you make that hate a little less than before.

“All done,” you say after placing the fabric bandage on his knuckles. “Minimal movements, okay? And ice them when you can in case something’s swollen.”

“I will,” he says softly, retrieving his hand and feeling your touch still linger, knowing he wants more of it.

You proceed to discuss some events he needs to attend all the way to the office with no mentions of how either of your weekends went. He wonders how you spent yours, hoping it was better than his. He wonders, too, if you thought about him the way he thought about you. But you seem focused on work matters for today, perhaps thinking he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. And you wouldn’t be wrong.

He gets to his room where he sighs in relief once he sits on his desk chair. It’s now that he feels the soreness and fatigue, as all he wants is to go home and lay in bed for the rest of the day. But he can’t afford that, so he pushes on, surviving a morning meeting and slowly going through each of his emails. He’s surprised when you serve him his favorite beef brisket for lunch, and your soft smile as he thanks you is his bright spot for the rest of the afternoon.

He powers through reviewing documents right after but his eyes start falling, prompting him to just lean back on his chair for a good few seconds before getting back to work. You knock on the door not long after, and then you place a cup of chamomile tea on his desk.

“I need about five espresso shots, Ms. Cho, not this,” he sighs, the tiredness in his voice evident. But you don’t seem taken aback by his words.

“I disagree, sir,” you reply. “This is to help you calm down. There’s also a couch right there. There’s a reason why it’s big and comfortable.”

He picks up on what you’re suggesting, and he shakes his head in response.

“I’m not gonna sleep here.”

“No one will know,” you shrug. “But you know it’s okay, right? I can’t imagine how tired you must be. You’re not Superman, Mr. Jeon. Plus, Mr. Jung would take naps here after long nights or during hectic days. It’s normal. And it might just be what you need.”

“I’ll decide what I need, Ms. Cho,” he says defensively. “I wouldn’t want my staff sleeping on the job so why should I?”

Jungkook regrets the words right as he says them, especially when he sees your face fall the tiniest bit. But you recover, saying that you understand then turning to head out. But you fix the pillow on the couch and place the blanket on the armrest before leaving, and he knows that your stubbornness is often a reflection of how you care.

So he takes a sip of the tea and eventually finishes it, indulging you in this way, but given the morning he’s had, his body gives in. He decides, like you said, that he needs a nap, and he doesn’t miss the victorious smile on your face that he sees from inside when he calls to instruct you not to disturb him for the next half hour.

With the dim lights and air purifier, he falls asleep right as his body hits the couch. When he wakes up 30 minutes later, he feels infinitely better; now he can focus and be productive.

You see the lights turn back on from outside and it’s your signal that he’s woken up from his nap. You wait a while before asking to enter his room to say that his father requested a meeting due to start in an hour. Jungkook’s putting his coat back on and you walk towards him to help.

“Was it good?” You ask, fixing the creases and aligning his necktie.

“Yeah,” he hums, not meeting your eyes again. “You were right, I needed that. And the couch really is comfortable.”

“That’s good. You should listen to your assistant more often,” you tease.

“I really should,” he smiles now, soft and reserved. “But I do feel better. Thank you.”

You exit his room and feel accomplished. You believe, like what others have told you, that showing him a bit of gentleness will prompt him to be a little gentler to himself, too. He works too hard sometimes, and taking a break when he needs it is one thing, but of course, it’s not everything.

The rest of the week goes by fairly similarly. Jungkook always looks tired, and it makes you wonder if he’s able to sleep properly at night or if he just overexerts himself during his morning workouts. He’s quiet when you’re not discussing work matters, making you miss your casual conversations. And though he acknowledges your occasional teasing remark, he doesn’t tease back like he’s been doing recently.

He has his moments of frustration but he’s mostly serious when you glance at him. He’s less engaging, too, and you suppose that’s what bothers you the most, as you realize that you enjoy talking with him, you enjoy getting to know him through your exchanges, allowing you a peek into his world that you know is reserved for very, very few people.

You suppose that whatever he’s dealing with is something he wants to go through on his own. Accepting your fears is one thing; accepting that you exposed all those to someone else is another. It’s why you try, in your own ways, to lift his spirits, wanting to let him know that he has nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to you.

You get him lunch from his favorite restaurants everyday, you add sweets to his servings of coffee or chocolate milk, you smile at him more, encourage him frequently, and during the times when he seems distant, you don’t completely move away. You reach out just a little bit, hoping that he’ll know that you’re around even when he doesn’t feel much like himself. You don’t want to match his detachment with your own.

It seems that you got your point across. On Friday, he dismisses you after he insists that he wants to stay back to work on a few things.

“___,” he calls out as you’re about to exit his room. “Thank you for being patient with me this week. I… I needed that.”

You turn around and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from meeting your eyes this time. He’s noticed you try to hold his gaze all week; you always lingered, too. Maybe it’s your way of comforting him or saying that you understand him. He felt both of those but he couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge them. There was a lot on his mind as he dealt with the frustration and shame of what happened, of how exposed and unguarded he was in front of you.

But you didn’t complain; you didn’t push him to engage or share anything. Even his moments of frustration were met with kindness and his silence was received with assurance. You tried to cheer him up in whatever way you could, and he could feel you just giving him time to be on his own.

He hopes he didn’t push you away. There were so many times when he just wanted you around so he could see more of your smile and hear the calmness of your voice; those always made him feel better. Whatever fears he had about how you would think of him after the incident have dissipated, as you look softly at him in understanding. He doesn’t need to say anything more, as you seem to know exactly what he means because this whole time, you seemed to also know exactly what he needed.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Jungkook,” you smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Jungkook returns to his usual self the week after. He says he went to one of their properties in Gwangju over the weekend where the weather was good and the long drive helped him stay focused and rejuvenated. He doesn’t say much of what he’s feeling and you expect that, but you’re glad his little trip gave him some peace somehow.

You, on the other hand, were left to deal with your growing feelings for him while downplaying them to your best friends. They came over for their regular visit on Saturday and while they were sympathetic with Jungkook over what happened, they still reminded you to be cautious. Once you cross a line, there’s no going back, and once you fully admit to what you feel, you can’t unfeel it; not acting on it becomes too hard and in your case, complicated.

The week is like any other but with much anticipation, given the upcoming annual team building that everyone’s excited about. This is one of the things that the support team was worried wouldn’t happen under Jungkook’s leadership, but you assured them early on that it was mandatory. And with him having loosened up and feeling more comfortable around them, you have high hopes that he’ll enjoy it as much as everyone will.

It’s why on that Saturday, you find yourself in the mall to buy the things that you’ll be needing for those three days that you’ll be spending in one of the Jeon properties in Gangwon. The venue changes every year and the villas by the lake are perfect for spring this time. Your shopping list includes all the materials for the activities and some other things Jungkook requested, like a certain book that he doesn’t have time to buy.

You enter a bookstore and as you try to find what you’re looking for, something else catches your eye. You may love the library for the space more than the books, but there will always be those that pull you in and make you curious. Even if you only read picture books when you were younger, there were a few short stories and poems that piqued your interest. You never finished them but you did manage to get through several pages.

The one right in front of you - with its pastel colored cover and simple yet intriguing design - feels like one of those. To your delight, it’s a short story collection, and your smile is immediate as you go through the pages, with each story being accompanied by illustrations that feel so personal. This would be a nice read while you’re lounging at the villa’s deck or even on your balcony, you think.

Another book catches your attention. The title is familiar, and you realize it’s one of the classics that you were required to read in high school. It has a new cover, and you see that it’s a new edition to celebrate its 30th year. You go through the pages as well, thinking back to when you had to force yourself to finish this some 15 years ago. It looks more fresh now, and definitely more enticing.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?”

You look up to find a tall man with deep-set eyes as the owner of the voice who’d interrupted your moment of book appreciation.

“I’m okay,” you dismiss him. “I don’t need assistance.”

You politely smile then return the books in their respective spots, ready to head out and search for what you came here to buy.

“Are you not going to get those?” The man presses. “You seemed to be interested in them and—”

“Were you watching me?” You ask, taken aback.

“Uh, no. I mean, not in the way you think,” he answers in panic, seemingly nervous at how it looks. “I wasn’t being creepy or anything I just… I…”

“Do you even work here?” You interrogate him, your alarm bells ringing at this man’s odd behavior and the absence of a nameplate that the other staff have on.

“I actually work for the company that published those books,” he says, his head down as if in embarrassment. “And we just put those out this week and I’m checking around to see people’s reaction and I realize now that it’s incredibly foolish of me to stand around and observe customers because it’s not only creepy, it’s also terribly disrespectful. I’m so sorry.”

There’s guilt in his eyes and it’s something you can recognize. You decide he’s being sincere and engage him a little.

“So… you work at Rkive Publishing?” You ask as you glance at the books. “As what?”

“I’m an editor, actually,” he answers, revealing his shy smile and dimples. “I’ve spent months on these books and thought, what better way to know people’s impression than to see them for myself? It seemed better in my head. I guess I wasn’t being subtle.”

“No, not really. I was kinda having a moment but then you popped out of nowhere,” you say, laughing to ease the tension. “But uh, the covers are stunning. I liked the personal touch of the short story collection and this classic looks a lot more interesting than I remember.”

“That’s uh, that’s good,” he grins, mostly to himself. “Our production team did really well in putting them together and to see the final products is incredibly satisfying, even more so when customers feel the same.”

“I don’t really read books but these just caught my eye. It’s a good way to pull people in,” you admit.

“That’s nice to know,” he smiles again. “I feel pretty fulfilled just knowing they got your attention. Even if you won’t buy them.”

He doesn’t seem like he’s guilt-tripping you but he still apologizes for how it sounds.

“I just… feel really strongly about how these pieces connect with people, even if it’s fleeting,” the man continues. “I just got over excited but thank you for not shunning me away.”

“I don’t think connections are fleeting, though,” you remark, surprising him and even yourself. “Even if it’s a thought or a memory or an impression… they stay with you in one way or another. I mean, every time I enter a bookstore, I’ll probably think about those covers and remember these books and maybe the excitement I felt. That’s still something, isn’t it?”

There’s appreciation in the man’s eyes as he takes in your words.

You may not be a book nerd nor an artsy person but you’ve been more introspective lately about the things around you. You don’t know if it’s the desperation to relate with anything and everything but if there’s one thing that working on the Arts Center has pushed you to do, it’s that pursuit of connection - with your surroundings, with people, and with yourself. You suppose that’s where all this is coming from, and the stranger in front of you whom you’re somehow connecting with right now understands that.

“It is something,” he flashes a smile again, the joy in it radiating and softening his very manly features. “That’s very reassuring, thank you.”

He steps aside and nods, perhaps giving you the space that he thinks he invaded, which in hindsight, you’re glad he did.

You bow in acknowledgment and head towards another aisle to look for that leadership book that Jungkook asked you to get. You immediately find it then make your way home, all the while thinking about your earlier encounter and how the briefest conversations can make you reflect about things and as you learn, lead you down a path you didn’t expect.

To appease your curiosity, you research about Rkive Publishing and learn that it’s a ten-year old company that works with up-and-coming local authors. It has also taken on special projects such as publishing classics for their milestone releases and some translated works. The man you met, who happens to be the editorial director, is a poet as well but apparently finds as much happiness in putting pieces out for people to enjoy as he does in writing them himself. He doesn’t seem that much older than you but he’s seen the world and in the eyes of an artist, you can’t imagine how beautiful and heartbreaking that must be.

You go down a rabbit hole of reading some of his poems and even some interviews he’d done when he set up the company years ago. You learn that he loves to write about the complexity of relationships, the fragility of human emotions, and the search for permanence in an impermanent world.

His words are captivating. You want to pick apart his brain to know more about what he thinks about humans’ need for connection despite our fear of them. You want to know what makes love the way it is, why it creates and sustains and ruins those who feel and have them. You want to know if he thinks that each person is capable of love, if that’s what makes us human, or if our humanness derives from the inadequacy of love - of what we give and what we receive.

You read a bit more about the books they’ve published and the authors they’ve worked with over the years. It’s midnight by the time you finish, and other than deciding that you’ll go back tomorrow to buy that short story book collection, one other thing fills your mind - the thought that there’s a reason for that encounter earlier, and it’s probably to lead you to finding this company and the production officer position that happens to be currently vacant.

The soft eyes that greet you from across the table where the books are placed is a welcome sight this time. The man from yesterday flashes you a shy smile and you greet him with your own.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon but I’m glad that you’re here,” he says as he approaches you.

You raise the book you intend to buy. “Connections aren’t fleeting,” you remind him. “I couldn’t really stop thinking about this since yesterday. And uh, curiosity got to me and I looked up Rkive Publishing. You’re doing great work. I read that you’re working on translations of several books, too.”

His eyes light up as he talks about wanting to attract a wider audience, given the increasing interest in Korean culture. The story of your people appeals to many because it’s shared, and he says that’s one beauty of art in whatever form - the meanings are endless, and they weave together to form something enduring and constant. That’s what he and his mother hoped for the company when they founded it a decade ago, he narrates, and he has the tough task of creating that avenue for such art to affect more people without diluting its meaning.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling again,” he shakes his head. “I just get so… yeah. I’ve just never met a buyer who actually searched us up after seeing our books on the shelf. I’m trying to engage more people. Our sales team said that’s one way to establish our presence.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him. “I may not be as passionate about anything as you but I understand feeling strongly about something. And if I’m being honest… there’s another thing that caught my eye about your company.”

“What is it?”

“You have an opening for the production officer position. I… I was impressed and looked up career options.”

“Ah, so you’re interested then?” He asks excitedly.

“I am. Although I don’t have any experience in publishing or anything related to books or literature for that matter.”

“Relevant experience is the qualification,” he hums. “I’d ask more but I can do so during the interview. What do you say?”

“That’s if I’ll make the shortlist,” you laugh. “Although I suppose my executive assistant experience is relevant enough.”

“Oh, it definitely is. That is no easy task.”

“Well, I hope meeting you like this won’t make any future application inappropriate,” you say.

“Not at all. That position has been vacant for a while. And we’re looking for two. It’s not always the role that those in the industry go for. I suppose it’s made for those looking for a career change,” he playfully winks. “But seriously though, think of this encounter as part of the process. You’ve done your research about us anyway, which kind of means you’re already a step ahead. It’s only a matter of actually applying, which I hope you do.”

“It’s an option,” you hum. “This wasn’t something I initially considered but it’s amazing how certain moments shape our decisions, isn’t it? I mean, they’re not really fleeting.”

“Of course,” he nods, thinking back to your comment from yesterday. “It’s all about being open, so please think about it. I may not know anything about your credentials but talking with you has already given me insight into what you think about our work and the power of stories. And that’s very important to me.”

“I still have a lot going on but I’ll definitely keep you in mind. I hope the position is still open when the time comes.”

“If it’s meant to be then it will be,” he assures you. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“I know,” you giggle, taking the business card that he hands out. “And I’m ___. I’ll see you around.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you head out the store with your purchased book in hand. And as you lay in bed that night, the possibilities of taking on a new journey play in your mind.

There’s the connection to the good memories of your childhood and the unloading of the burdens you carry. There’s being around people you’re not tied or indebted to and there’s forging your own way towards a path that you deliberately chose.

But there’s also Jungkook, whom you can’t stop thinking about and who happens to be a hindrance when it comes to pursuing your own goals in life. Those goals include happiness and freedom even if ironically, those are the things he also gives you. There’s the new emotions he makes you feel, the connection you can’t deny you have with him, and the desire that constantly eats you up inside.

You’ve always had your feet inside your walls with your hand on the door, just waiting for the courage to finally step out. The only thing stopping you is Jungkook and all the other possibilities with him. They may remain unrealized but they’re there. You just hope that one day you’ll convince yourself that walking away from him was exactly the thing you had to do.

You watch in awe as Yohan loads the last crate of food in the rented van you’ll be using for this weekend’s team building in some lakeside property in Gangwon. The trunk is filled with all sorts of meat and vegetables, chips, and alcohol that seem to be good for a tribe of more than 10, way more than your team of seven.

“You do know we’re only there for three days, right?” You remind the younger man. “I don’t think we eat this much.”

“Don’t you know Do-hyun?” Yohan says. “She’s half my size but she eats twice as much as I do. And I eat a lot. Plus, the guy she was seeing ghosted her so she’s probably gonna eat even more. Heartbreak shit, you know?”

“I don’t,” you chuckle, although you can’t help but feel bad again for Do-hyun whom you had to comfort not long ago because of her boy problems. “But are you sure these are all within budget?”

“Yes. Chin-sun is a master at bargaining. And, because we’re such a good team, Mr. Min and Mr. Jung gave us some of their favorite liquor,” Yohan hums satisfyingly. “Those smell expensive. So yeah, we didn’t have to spend much on alcohol since Mr. Jeon brought some, too, which is why we got to buy all this food.”

“Fine, but we can’t have drunken shenanigans, okay? I don’t have the energy to babysit you guys. And Mr. Jeon is no weakling; he’ll be awake to see you misbehave if you do.”

“We’ll go as far as incredibly out-of-tune karaoke singing, we promise,” Yohan laughs, learning his lesson after last year’s midnight swim in the freezing cold river where he almost got swept away.

Hoseok was thankfully passed out and did not witness the almost-emergency. You had to remind your team that though you’ll be going on a team-building - which is really just an excuse for the staff to eat and drink in some scenic venue - there are still rules in place, and it would be best not to give Jungkook any problem, given the progress that you’ve all made.

You enter the car then leave the office - your meet up place - to take the long drive to your destination. You just got the message from Mr. Ri that they’re almost there; they left much earlier so that Jungkook could make it to a virtual meeting with Hoseok and his father.

The ride starts off peaceful, as everyone is still slowly waking up. Halfway through, it becomes chaotic, with Do-hyun and Yohan arguing about who’ll be on cleaning duties on which days as the youngest ones on the team. You laugh along, knowing you’ll end up helping them anyway, but you look out the window and wonder how Jungkook is doing.

He’s been incredibly busy leading to today, with several site visits to the Arts Center and meetings with the project teams multiple times the past two weeks. He’s been staying late in the office, too, and working on the weekends. You know, because you get the odd-hour emails and find portfolios on your desk in the morning. Despite the work that he still has to squeeze in during this weekend, you hope he gets a bit of rest. More than that, you hope he finds time to be with the team and bond with them. Only you know this may be your last, and you want to keep the memories of these three days and make sure they’re good ones.

You arrive at the place and look around, amazed at every corner and every space you set your eyes on. You know that the Jeon family has dozens of properties in scenic locations that they escape to or put out for rent. This lakeside estate is one of a few you haven’t been to yet, and there’s a reason why Jungkook wanted this to be your venue this year. It’s spacious with lots of things to do and the view is absolutely stunning. Lush mountains frame the sparkling body of water, and with the breeze of spring, it’s every bit relaxing as you hoped.

It’s quiet as the rest of the team walks around in awe. The main house boasts of a large kitchen and living space and it’s surrounded by four two-bedroom villas with their own decks. You, Chin-sun, and Do-hyun head to one while Yohan and Manager Lee head to another. You give yourselves half an hour to fix up before reconvening and when you do, you immediately smile upon seeing Jungkook already waiting.

He greets the team, formally welcomes you all, then talks about the property and all its amenities. He discusses what’s in store for these next three days, then he proceeds with the first activity, which is really the only work-related thing you’re all required to do.

Jungkook facilitates the session, and he starts by asking everyone to reflect on all the gains and challenges this past year. He instructs each of you to share your team highs and lows, what enabled you to achieve the successes and overcome the difficulties, what caused you the most stress, and what you’re most thankful for. Every answer is met with confirming nods and statements, and it seems that everyone is on the same page about how the year went.

The session highlights your team dynamics - you’re all very encouraging of each other, but it doesn’t stop the young ones from bickering and teasing the rest of you. It’s fun though, as you end the hour with laughter and more memories to take with you. You glance at Jungkook who seems satisfied with every response; you hope he’s proud of how he managed everything, too, and you make sure you mention it during your turn. The smile he makes when everyone agrees warms your heart in a way you don’t expect, even more so when he holds your gaze when he thanks the team in return.

You’re rewarded with a hearty lunch an hour later, and not long after, you find yourselves near the deck of the lake, discussing how to spend your two hours of free time before the next activity.

Chin-sun and Manager Lee decide on just laying on the lounge chairs to soak up the sun. Yohan gets on a jet-ski while Do-hyun flounders about in the lake. Sipping your beer, you lean on one of the tables and savor the fresh air.

There’s not much of this in the city, and the silence - save for the young ones’ laughter in the background - is definitely worth the long ride and the backlog you’ll be having once the weekend is over. You’re not really one to stay outdoors. You’d much rather stay inside, under the covers where you could watch movies or variety shows. That was always how you preserved your peace. Being outside always intimidated you, and you think now it’s probably because you just haven’t seen that many beautiful views like this in your life. If this is what’s outside your window everyday, you’d probably be out all the time.

“___, are you just gonna stay there? The water’s amazing,” Do-hyun whines as she approaches you. “Or sunbathe if you don’t want to get wet. Just get out there.”

“I’m content just watching you enjoy yourselves,” you say. “I can see the view just fine from here.”

“It’s much better up close,” she counters, standing next to you now. “Come on, this is your time to let loose since you have the permission to do so. Mr. Jeon isn’t gonna be a killjoy and watch your every move, you know? If he will, then I will…”

“You will what?” You laugh.

“I will tell him he’s being a killjoy. How often can we be in a place as beautiful as this?”

“Do-hyun’s right,” Jungkook says as he appears to your left, catching both of you off guard and prompting Do-hyun to sweetly smile at him. He’s in shorts and a loose long-sleeve shirt, perhaps ready to enjoy the outdoors as well. “The place is too beautiful for you to just sit back and watch.”

“And what will you do?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sit back and watch,” he shrugs, earning him a laugh from you and Do-hyun. “And enjoy my beer. That’s how I relax.”

“Please don’t be boring,” Do-hyun pouts at him, embracing that little sister energy that you’ve all come to love. “You should know, Mr. Jeon, Yohan is being all cocky, saying that he’s the best jet ski rider among all of us here. I have a feeling that he’s wrong, so please show him who’s boss. I mean, you are, obviously. But, you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Jungkook chuckles, putting down his drink and looking out into the lake. “But sure. I haven’t ridden one in a while but let’s see how I go.”

Jungkook walks towards the water then unknots the other jet ski. He removes his shirt and wears the life vest before riding towards where Yohan is. The view of him half-naked triggers memories of all the times you’ve seen him like that, times when you’d look away and keep yourself from thinking inappropriate thoughts. It’s no different this time, but somehow, it’s much harder to keep your heart from racing this fast.

“Holy fuck,” Do-hyun gasps next to you. “Please don’t report me but shit, ___. Whoever’s doing Mr. Jeon is one lucky woman. I mean, look at that. And who knew he had a full sleeve of tattoo? That is so freaking hot.”

From your periphery, you could see her shocked face but you merely hum in response. You don’t want to get carried away by your own expletives because there really aren’t enough curses in the dictionary when it comes to describing Jungkook’s body.

“You don’t seem surprised,” she looks at you curiously. “And you’re not affected. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. I’m with him everyday,” you say nonchalantly.

“In clothes, I would assume.”

“He works out every morning and he’s in sleeveless tops sometimes,” you clarify. “Obviously I’ve seen his arm.”

She furrows her brows as if she doesn’t believe you, even if you’re telling the truth. There are just other parts of that story that you don’t want to share.

“Hmm, fair enough,” she gives in. “But I’d probably be constantly flustered or even crushing on him if I were you. So how have you managed being around him and not being attracted all this time knowing he looks like that?”

You’re forced to look at Do-hyun, as you try to find the words to say, when she answers her own question.

“Right, he can be quite detached and too serious and he’s a playboy and—”

“You also forget that I am his assistant and he is my boss,” you remind her. “Thoughts like that—”

“Are perfectly normal,” she interjects. “And totally understandable. He’s a hot bachelor, ____. I wouldn’t be able to function professionally if I were in your shoes. Which is why it’s great that I’m here and you’re the one in that position.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I might lose this job if I lose my shit every time because my boss is so hot,” she reasons. “And it’s not just me. I’ve seen the female staff lose their cool around him just because he spoke to them or looked their way. It’s kind of embarrassing. But I guess the broody, asshole-y vibes add to that. And then there’s you who’s in his apartment every morning and heavens know what you’ve seen or heard since we all know that the rumors about his dating life are true and you seem fine and totally unbothered.”

You want to laugh at how completely off Do-hyun is with her observations. Sure, you tried to be cool about it at the beginning and you mostly succeeded in being calm whenever you came close or saw any part of his body exposed.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. When you saw the layers underneath, he wasn’t just attractive physically; he was suddenly so much more. That somehow made it harder but it also made all the restraint worth it. But that’s not something you want to divulge to Do-hyun. No matter how difficult, you know you need to keep yourself together and stop the feelings from going any deeper.

“Well, just like you, I can’t lose my job and I will if I let it affect me,” you say. “But if I may say so… there’s definitely more to the broody, serious man we met almost a year ago.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true. He’s definitely more thoughtful than I expected. Maybe a little funny, too. But that’s really all I know. He just seems too reserved, you know? Seeing him do something like ride a jet ski or laugh with us feels like such a luxury for a man like him,” Do-hyun adds. “It must be hard to get to know him beyond all this. I know it sure is hard to love someone like that.”

You know that Do-hyun’s merely projecting. The recent guy she was seeing was a lot more shy and private than the ones she’s dated before. But she got him to open up and she thought that was it, that she’d broken through his walls and they’d be permanently down for her, only to realize it wasn’t the case. He was distant for a few days and she tried to get through again only for him to completely shut her out; she hasn’t heard from him in weeks.

It’s probably why you agree. People who keep their distance and disengage whenever they want are hard to love. You’d know because you’re like that. It hits you hard knowing that Jungkook is probably the same.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you and Do-hyun watch Jungkook and Yohan outride one another, splashing each other with water and screaming in excitement when they speed up. Seeing this other side of Jungkook does something to you again, and the sight of his smile as he dries his hair while teasing Yohan triggers the butterflies in your belly.

He approaches you - thankfully with his shirt on this time - and you suddenly feel too hot. He tells you that the water’s nice and you should get in, but you’re too self-conscious now, so you compromise and say you’ll just dip your feet in the water while you sit on the steps that lead down to the lake.

That’s how you spend the rest of the hour, as Chin-sun, Manager Lee, and Do-hyun join Yohan in swimming while Jungkook stays back, watching you all from afar. You glance at him a few times and he catches your eyes. He lifts his can in cheers and you do the same. He heads to where you are some time after with five cans of beer then walks back to his room, and you suddenly miss his presence. You wish he was next to you, perhaps laughing or talking about something random or just sitting with you in silence. You’ve learned that last bit brings you a lot of comfort and peace; the view somehow isn’t as beautiful when you aren’t sharing it with him.

It’s an hour later, after having dried and fixed up, when you’re all on the basketball court to start the next activity that Mr. Ri prepared. Divided into teams of two, each pair is assigned a path that leads to either the mountain, the woods, or the stream to find bags of coins needed to “purchase” materials to create a science experiment-type water rocket. It’s meant to practice your communication and problem-solving skills with those you work most closely with, which is why Chin-sun and Do-hyun, and Manager Lee and Yohan are paired up respectively while you, of course, end up with Jungkook.

“The caretakers and I spent all morning preparing this game, so please take it seriously,” Mr Ri says. “And bond with each other while you’re at it.”

You see the competitiveness in the young ones’ eyes, especially when it’s announced that there’s a prize for the winners, and you like the energy. Being Jungkook’s partner, you know it’s just about completing the task and somehow, it’s the bonding bit that makes you nervous. You already know you’re going to like it, which is precisely why it terrifies you.

“There are ATVs for each team which you will ride to the start of the path. You’ll have to go by foot when you get there or else you’ll miss the bags of coins,” Mr. Ri instructs. “You have walkie-talkies to reach me in case you get lost but please don’t. And try to be back here in an hour. All clear?”

You all express your acknowledgement and he signals the start. The other teams rush to their rides and quickly drive off while you and Jungkook stroll to yours.

He takes the helmet and puts it on you, and he laughs again like he did at the Arts Center months ago before riding the vehicle.

“I should’ve expected that,” you pout.

“Which?”

“That you’ll laugh at me again.”

“It looks cute on you,” he says casually before riding the vehicle.

Your eyes widen at his words and you’re glad he has his back turned on you. That way he can’t see the way you’re trying to hold your smile and suppress the giddy feeling at his remark. It makes it that much harder for you to climb up behind him though, but you manage, and you ensure there’s some distance between you and him, knowing how you tend to be when you get close.

Jungkook, on the other hand, internally smacks himself after he says the words. He didn’t mean for the thoughts in his head to actually come out. He’s glad he didn’t see your probably awkward expression, and that right now, he needs to focus on the road. That way, he can preoccupy himself with your safety and not his embarrassment.

He means it though. There’s something about you in a helmet that gets him, or even in anything oversized, like his jacket that he made you wear once. There’s also something about you wading in the water and laughing so freely that make his insides melt. Anything you do actually triggers something in him - a protective side, a care-free side; a side that wants to take a pause and bask in the scenery that includes you.

Now he has to act like he’s not affected with you sitting behind him as he drives the ATV down the rugged path. He feels you far from him, sitting close to the edge and holding onto the handles behind you. But as the road gets rockier, he starts to get worried.

“You should hold onto me,” he says, turning his head to the side so you could hear him before slowing down. “It’s safer that way.”

It takes a few seconds but he feels you move closer to him, your arms slowly wrapping around his torso. It’s a bit loose but it’s enough for his breathing to quicken.

“Is… is this okay?” You softly ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to say. “It’s a bit rocky out here so be careful. You can, uh, you can hold on tighter if you feel unstable.”

You hum in response but you maintain your position. He supposes you don’t know how bumpy it could be. It makes him worry and he wishes you’d grab onto him more only because he’s afraid you’d fall, and that’s exactly what happens after the first big bump.

You yelp, tightening your grip around him immediately. He feels his heart stop, unprepared to have your arms around his waist and your chest flushed against his back even if that’s what he’d suggested you do. He’s felt you close in several instances already, but each time feels different. It affects him the same way though - all he wants is to have you even closer.

But that’s not something he can think of right now, especially when you’re both alone, in a place that’s conducive to letting his inhibitions go.

It’s calm and peaceful out here. There’s a lot of open space but he enjoys it more when he’s looking at it from the comforts of the balcony or the deck. He always prefers to stay indoors because the outdoors somehow make him feel more constricted; he supposes that being trapped in the woods as a child would do that to anyone. He’s always just been a spectator, watching everything from behind the safety of his walls, knowing that he could feel a bit unsteady out there.

But ever since you got here and he’d seen you enjoy the surroundings, all he’s felt was the stability of having you near him. That, ironically, scares him, too. The more he’s comfortable with you, the more worried he becomes. So he settles on what he knows how to do - keeping you at a fair distance but creating moments here and there, only so you don’t think he’s pushing you away or detaching himself.

You decide to just hold onto Jungkook for safety purposes. You didn’t realize that the path towards the stream is this rocky, but you suppose it should be since you’re in the undeveloped part of the property. It's probably why he asked you to hold onto him; he’s your safety precaution and you know enough that he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He’s steady and skilled in navigating the ATV, avoiding the big bumps and alerting you when there’s going to be one. It’s actually quite attractive. He feels so nice like this, with his soft hoodie and natural scent, and you have to pull away every once in a while so as not to get too comfortable. You can’t let yourself imagine this to be a possibility beyond today, you remind yourself. He can’t be someone you constantly seek, that you could fall into, even if that’s pretty much where you’re at at this point.

You reach the end of the road and Jungkook lets you get down first, instructing you to hold his arm for support, before following right after. You walk towards the mark that signifies the start of the path where you’re supposed to find the bags of coins, and you look around to see that there are more shrubs than trees. It feels a little less constricting compared to if you were in the mountains or the woods, which is why you think Mr. Ri assigned this to both of you.

You and Jungkook start searching, and with the topography of the place, it’s easy to spot the bags that are hanging from the tree branches. You point one out and Jungkook steps on the hollowed out trunk to retrieve it. You stand by watching, reminding him to be careful. And though you tell yourself to focus on the bag, you can’t help but glance at the sight of him - in his light gray sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, looking casual and comfortable and even more attractive.

It doesn’t help when he reaches out towards the branch while you stay on a spot below him, and the view of him from this angle leaves you quite breathless. Not only does his hoodie rise up to reveal his waist and that lower half of his torso that you’d held onto earlier, but you also get a peek of the band of his underwear, too. Your mind short-circuits for the briefest moment, even more when he stretches even more to pull the bag towards him, and you’re able to snap out of it in time, as you watch him slowly make his way down.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” You call out.

He easily descends, and with his smug face, he lifts the bag for you to see.

“Do you not have faith in my tree-climbing capabilities?” he asks you.

“It’s just not something I’ve seen you do before,” you shrug, acting nonchalantly as you return to walking down the path.

“So, were you worried?”

“Uhm, yes? I can’t have an injured Vice President on my watch,” you exclaim, earning you a laugh. “How am I gonna transport you out of this dirt road and back to the house? I can barely keep still as a passenger on the ATV.”

“Well, I could get hurt but I definitely won’t be immobile,” he points out. “I won’t be a hard person to help.”

“Right… I’m the one who gets injured and then can’t walk.”

He frowns at you at the reminder, and you counter that it’s okay for you to make fun of your injury but that he’s right, he probably won’t be as injured as you. You wave him off, hoping that you don’t have to deal with an incapacitated version of him during this game. You also won’t be able to handle worrying about him without giving too much away.

You return your focus on finding the other bags. There are those hidden behind rocks and in shallow holes; you know because of the shovel next to them. There’s another one tied around the trunk of the tree, and you have to hold your breath again when Jungkook climbs up to get it.

As expected, you have good teamwork. You section off areas to search at and quickly find what you’re looking for. You go for the ones you can get and then ask him to reach for the ones you can’t. There’s some bickering in between, with him pretending that he’s stuck or caught on something while you panic and then pout at him for scaring you. But there are some moments of silence, too, where you walk side by side and bask in the scent of your surroundings. Either way, it’s time that you enjoy just being around him, taking in the environment that you often stayed away from. With him, it’s a lot less scary and definitely more freeing.

When you’re down to your last one, you and Jungkook think that Mr. Ri would hide it somewhere near the end of the path, so you both decide to just take in your surroundings as you stroll towards the stream.

“So, nature smells like this, huh?” you hum. “It’s quite comforting.”

“It is,” he says. “I forget sometimes. It’s nice to remember.”

“Don’t you spend a lot of time outdoors?” You wonder. “You’ve mentioned driving out to some of your properties with views like this. I’d assume you stay out and enjoy the scenery.”

“I do enjoy the scenery… just from inside,” he chuckles, knowing the irony of his words. “It’s just more comfortable that way, I guess. So I appreciate being forced to go outside this weekend.”

“At least you’re not alone, right?”

“That’s true.”

“I’m the same,” you say. “I don’t go out much. I mean, I’m often on my own so I just stay indoors but I do enjoy the scenery when I’m with others. It feels too lonely when you’re by yourself. To be something so small in a world so big… It's kind of scary.”

“Well, I’m here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You don’t think Jungkook will ever know the weight of his words and just how wrong he is. To be in a place so beautiful with him next to you… it’s everything you’re scared of. You’ve come to appreciate a lot of things because of him. You’ve come to want more when you shouldn’t because of him. You always find yourself in a state of push-and-pull with your emotions when it comes to him, knowing that he’s someone you can’t have. He’ll always be out of reach no matter how close he is. He’ll always hinder you from the kind of life you want to have even if that includes him.

The logical part of you wants to keep your distance, to not create any more memories that will haunt you and that you’ll miss. But the stubborn part of you wants you to hold onto this to remind you that beautiful things are tangible and he’s the one thing you can see and hear; maybe he’s something you can touch, too.

The latter one wins, so you slow your pace, take in the sight before you, and decide that this is a memory you’ll want to keep. You take the disposable camera from your pouch, something you bought the other week specifically for this trip, knowing it might be your last. You take a photo of the sky, then of the path ahead of you, then of the stream, making sure there’s a bit of him in there - a mop of hair, a portion of his arm, his shadow.

It’s then that you see the last bright red bag on one of the big rocks near the water’s edge.

“Oh, there it is,” you say, immediately walking towards it.

You look around and strategize how you’ll get to the rock safely but Jungkook insists that he’ll be the one to get it.

“You’ve gotten all the tricky ones,” you argue, given that he’d climbed the tree and crawled under the shrub because your leggings were too thin and wouldn’t be able to protect you from the thorny branches. “I can get this.”

“It might be slippery.”

“I have good balance,” you lie.

“Uh, I clearly remember that you don’t.”

“Hey,” you pout at him, knowing he’s referring to that time you tripped on yourself during one of your Arts Center visits. “It was the heels. That’s clearly not a problem this time.”

You step on the wet stones and balance your way as they lead towards the big rock, with Jungkook repeatedly telling you to be careful. His voice just gets louder and louder, but you turn around and see that he’s actually just following you. It’s your mistake, as your loss of focus causes you to slip on one of the rocks and almost lose your balance. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you fall on your ass. Your foot merely slides to the side, barely missing the water, which is really fine, but Jungkook doesn’t think so.

“Don’t move until you’re stable,” he instructs, holding out his hand for you to take, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “That’s the foot you injured. You can’t risk spraining it again. Just take my hand or hold my wrist so you can safely get the bag.”

You do as he says, grabbing his forearm so you can stabilize yourself. You let him go once you do, then you turn and take a few small steps to get what you need. He stays close to you though, and once you retrieve the bag, you turn towards him with a proud smile and announce that half of your task has been completed.

“You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?” He says instead, his firm voice a contrast to his playful frown.

“And you are quite the nagger,” you hit back. “I wouldn’t have slipped if I hadn’t turned and I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Sure, it’s my fault. Sorry for caring about your safety,” he shakes his head.

“Well, you were underestimating me,” you frown now. “I could’ve done all this without your help.”

“Really?” He challenges.

“Yes,” you stand your ground. “Although I would still need your help to get back to land.”

It’s what makes him laugh, and the way his eyes light up and crinkle makes your heart race. He has such a sweet sound, and you wish you could hear more of it.

“I figured. Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” you stop him and check your watch. “We still have time. Can we stay for a bit? The water’s quite nice and the view of the mountains is prettier from here.”

Jungkook looks around. The mountain range from far away looks majestic from this angle, and with the sun about to set soon, the way the light shines on the water is just as beautiful.

“Okay then,” he says, wanting to savor this as well.

You just said you don’t go out much, and maybe like what he feels, being with him makes you want to take it all in; maybe it makes you feel less scared.

You both find dry rocks to sit at and it’s the perfect spot for you to take more photos, so you take out your camera and see which angles look best.

“Did you buy that for this trip?” he asks.

“Yeah. I knew the sights would be beautiful. I just wanted to keep something from here,” you explain.

“Give it to me then,” he says, reaching out his hand and gesturing towards your camera. “Let me take one of you so you’ll always remember.”

You hand it over to him then suddenly feel awkward at how you’re supposed to pose. You stay seated with your legs just slightly bent but are unsure of where you’re supposed to look. It feels a little too tense if you look at his direction, even if that’s what you should be doing.

“It’s free to smile, you know? That’s what people usually do for photos,” he says, causing you to giggle. He takes the photo right then, and you have an idea he caught your smile at the right time.

“Was that a trick?” You ask.

“Sort of. I knew you were gonna think of how bold it was of me to say that, considering that I barely even smile.”

“Wow, I can’t even tease you anymore because you already know what I’m gonna say.”

“I know sometimes you can’t help but just tease me like that. I know you too well,” he smugly says. “But I think I got a good photo. You’re welcome.”

You laugh at his playfulness, knowing it’s rare for him to show that side of him. So you ask for your camera back and decide you want him to be part of this particular memory. You hold it out and turn towards him.

“May I?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he hums. “I just don’t know how to smile.”

You giggle again and you’re quick enough to catch the brief moment when he lets out a short laugh.

You look at him softly, as if there’s more you want to say - that you’ll keep this close to you so you’ll remember what his smile looks like, that he’s something beautiful you can hear and see, that you feel so safe out here with him, and that you hope he’ll remember this, too.

But you look away before any of the words make it out.

You think to just quietly savor this, as you bask in the sounds of the cicadas and the flow of the water and the rustling of the leaves. You’re so small in this big world, but being with Jungkook makes things a little less scary. With him, you don’t feel so alone.

A bit more time passes before you both decide to head back. He reaches out his hand which you mindlessly take, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his palm. You’re too focused on your steps that you only realize you’re still holding him once you both safely make it to dry land. But it’s also at that moment when he lets go. Though a part of you wishes he’d drag the illusion a bit more, you’re also glad he didn’t; you would’ve probably held on longer if he didn’t pull away.

The silence continues as you both walk back to the start of the path, but he stays near you, occasionally asking if you’re tired or cold. You make it to the ATV and you hold onto his waist again with no instructions needed this time. He drives a bit faster than earlier but you feel safe and steady, and there’s something natural about the way you’re clinging to him for support. Part of the illusion as well, you think, but that ends, too.

You’re the last one back to the villas but you and Jungkook quickly make up some ground in assembling the water rocket. It was mostly him, though, as he says that he tinkers around and easily figures these things out. Do-hyun and Chin-sun feel the pressure as you catch up, and they shriek as they slowly feel the win slipping away from them. But then Jungkook holds onto the last piece and lets them win instead. The way they celebrate after their rocket successfully launches makes it feel worth it; you don’t feel bad about it at all. If anything, you expected he’d let either of the other two teams finish first.

After the winners are handed out hotel accommodation gift cards, Jungkook excuses himself to get a bit of work done while the rest of the team prepares for dinner. The team works on your assigned tasks of preparing the grill and slicing the vegetables, while you cook your famed fried rice after Do-hyun convinced you that it would heal her broken heart. Seated outside with the cool evening air, you all wait for Jungkook before starting.

“Mr. Jeon said he’ll just message me once he’s ready to eat,” Mr. Ri says as he takes his seat. “We can start without him.”

“But it’s not a team dinner without him,” Do-hyun whines. “He should take a break from working and spend time with us.”

“I’m sure he wants that, too,” you say. “Let’s just give him some time, maybe there’s something urgent he needs to do. Let’s just enjoy our meal and leave some food for him.”

Everyone dives in once the meat is cooked, and there’s a consensus that your fried rice is definitely worth all the hype. The laughter and teasing immediately start, and you wish Jungkook was here to enjoy it with you. You constantly glance at his villa, noting the dim lights, and you wonder what has him holed up inside this time, knowing he didn’t plan on working too much while he’s here.

It’s one hour later when you decide that he’s gone too long without having dinner, so you take portions of everything and set them on a tray.

“Wait, let me make him a drink. Hopefully that’ll convince him to come out,” Yohan says.

Managing to carry everything, you head towards Jungkook’s villa, and when he opens the door after your constant bell-ringing, he looks at you in surprise.

“The team’s been wondering when you were coming out,” you say. “You might be in there because of work, but I’m not fully convinced. Whatever it is, the food’s too delicious for you to not have a taste, so I brought you some.”

You raise the tray that you placed on the small table outside and flash him a smile. He nods in acknowledgement and takes it from you but you don’t leave just yet.

“I hope you’re not working anymore,” you say.

“I only did for a while,” he replies. “I… got a bit tired.”

“I’ve seen you workout in the morning and work all day after only having three hours of sleep, Jungkook. You wouldn’t get tired from just a jet ski ride and some scavenger hunt,” you raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a dry laugh before heading to the dining room. He leaves the door open so you follow him inside.

“I mean I’m socially tired. Isn’t that a thing?”

“Gee, I didn’t think that spending time with me outdoors drained your energy so much,” you frown.

Your playful pout tells him you’re teasing. He sure hopes it’s not what you really feel. It’s the opposite, in fact. He felt relieved of a lot of things during that hour that he walked around and breathed in the fresh air with you. And you both had moments - comforting glances, the shared silence… the fleeting touches that made him want more. You’re everything new and familiar and he wants to know how it’s like to have you close to him.

He knows it’s a desire he can’t act on, not just because he’s your superior but also because he can’t imagine you feeling a fraction of what he feels. It’s tempting to mistake your kindness for something more, and he’d fall into it if only hoping didn’t lead to disappointment. But like what Yoongi had said before, it’s how you naturally are, even as someone who prefers to be alone. Whatever type of friendship you offer is all that it is - friendship.

Jungkook clearly doesn’t deserve you. It’s not just because of the way he treated you at the beginning but because even until now, whenever he pulls away, you’re always the first one who reaches out. He’s scared that anything he does might push you away, and that’s the last thing he wants. He’ll keep you at a distance for as much as he can and for as long as you’re around. He can handle that, but losing you in any way has become his biggest fear.

That’s why he needed to be on his own after your time together in such a casual and comfortable environment. It’s easy to want that with you and to think that he can have it. Pulling away has always been his default when dealing with things he can’t control, and earlier, he just couldn’t control his mind and his heart.

But you’re here now, having knocked on his door like you always do, wondering if he’ll come out.

“I brought you dinner but I purposely gave you small servings so you’ll want more and leave your villa,” you explain.

“Half a cup of your fried rice?” He scowls. “That’s a crime.”

“I know. And you’ll run out if you don’t go outside,” you warn. “Are you planning on just staying here? Do-hyun’s right. It’s not a team dinner without you there.”

“I… I was planning to go out a bit later. It’s a different setting and I’m a little anxious,” he admits.

He looks away and you feel for him. You were the same in the beginning, too. It’s one thing to share meals with people in a work environment but it’s another when it’s more casual, where people are less filtered and guarded. But you had to try, and after spending time getting to know your colleagues, things got easier.

The team has adjusted to Jungkook but you suppose Jungkook hasn’t fully adjusted to them. Perhaps he was planning on sneaking in much later in the evening or using work as an excuse. But this is part of his function, and like you promised him early on, you want to help him with this aspect of his role.

“I’ll help you loosen up a bit,” you suggest. “I can have dinner with you here first and then we can go out once you’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, even if he’d decided earlier that he’d keep his distance. “You can get your food outside. I’m not sharing mine.”

You laugh at how seriously he says the words.

“I know,” you say. “And by the way, Yohan made you that drink.”

“How’d he know I like highball?”

“A little birdie told him,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

You smile before walking out, with Jungkook reminding you to set aside some fried rice for him.

You take your plate and reason to the team that you and Jungkook will just discuss some work stuff and they buy it, saying they won't get drunk until you’re both back outside.

You return to the villa with your dish and a bottle of beer, immediately realizing that it’s new territory for you and Jungkook, too. Sure, you’ve spent some time together out of work, but not in a place and situation like this.

But you want to be there for him. You like that he looks to you for energy and support. On days when he’s distant, you want moments like right now to remind you of the times he needed you, that he wanted you around, even if it’s for a different reason.

It takes half an hour for Jungkook to ease his nerves. In that time, you talk about random things, like his favorite hawker centers in Singapore and the variety shows you watch on which days. You both tease each other, then compete on who gets less affected. You tell him it’s good preparation for when the team, in their drunken states, does the same. You assure him, though, that they won’t go below the belt but he also assures you that he’s a big boy and can handle it.

When he says he wants more fried rice, it becomes your cue to head outside. You’re thankful that other than Mr. Ri subtly smirking at you, no one else reacts uncomfortably. You and Jungkook just came from his villa alone, after all, but you suppose everyone’s too tired or too careful to say anything.

“I hope no one’s eaten my share of the fried rice,” Jungkook says as he sits across from you. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Here, all yours, Mr. Jeon,” Yohan says as he hands him a bowl. “If it isn’t enough, just know that Do-hyun took one last scoop before we set this aside.”

“Traitor,” Do-hyun scowls at the younger man. “I couldn’t help it. It’s so good, right?” She turns to Jungkook now. “___ gatekeeps this! She says she’s too busy to make it and I only got her to do it now because I’m heartbroken.”

Jungkook smiles internally. You’ve made this for him a few times and it’s heartwarming to think that you had your reasons for doing so, knowing now that it’s not something you easily share.

“It’s way better than the one I make,” Jungkook says, glancing at you. “I can have this everyday.”

“You cook?!” Do-hyun basically yells.

“Uh, yeah. I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?” Jungkook asks.

“Paying people to do things for you,” Do-hyun shrugs.

It’s a line he’s heard you say before and neither of you are wrong. It’s normal to make that assumption and it’s also true. He had people to do pretty much everything for him when he was in Singapore. He has that option here in Seoul, too, but he’s found himself wanting less people in his space for long periods of time. You’re really the only one he doesn’t mind being around him.

The conversation shifts to what happened in the afternoon, and you all end up talking about each team’s scavenger hunt experience and the anticipation for the next day’s obstacle course and relay games. A few more shots and bottles of beer later, the vibe turns more serious, as Manager Lee’s question to Do-hyun about how she’s feeling turns into an emotional session where she asks what she’s supposed to do about the man she was seeing, wondering if it’s worth reaching out or just moving on from him.

Chin-sun shares a piece of her mind and so does Yohan. Manager Lee says that sometimes, people don’t know what they want and isolate themselves in response. The pieces of advice are a mix of being patient and forgetting about the man, and you choose to observe rather than give an opinion. It’s always easy to say something but things could be totally different once you’re the one experiencing it. You think Jungkook feels the same, as he stays quiet but listens earnestly.

“What do you think, Mr. Ri?” Do-hyun asks. “You’re the oldest one here and would probably have a lot to say.”

“I wish I did but I wouldn’t say I’ve made the best decisions when it comes to my love life,” Mr. Ri laughs. “I mean, I’ve only ever loved one woman but I let her go. And that was over 20 years ago; I haven’t loved anyone that way since. I don’t think I ever really stopped.”

You watch everyone’s faces turn from shocked to somber. Mr. Ri, having been CEO Jeon’s right-hand man for a long time, has a stable and commanding presence. Everyone knows him to be loyal and firm, yet there’s a warmth about him with how protective and dependable he is. They all know about his commitment to his job, but his faithfulness to one person is perhaps surprising; he was never one to show much emotion, after all. But then again, people make sacrifices in the name of love - sometimes they give everything up for it, sometimes it’s what they let go of.

“Twenty years is a long time,” Do-hyun sighs. “And you never stopped. Where does all that love go?”

“I have people I care about,” Mr. Ri answers. “It goes to them. Obviously it’s different but I learned that if I keep all that love to myself, it hurts even more. That’s how I learned to live with the decision I made. It’s how I learned to let her go.”

“That’s so sad,” Do-hyun sniffles. “Here I am, heartbroken about a guy I was dating for only a few months while you’ve been harboring these feelings for decades.”

“It’s not about the length of time you were together or apart,” Mr. Ri shakes his head. “When you give a part of yourself to someone, losing them always hurts. That part of you is gone because they took it with them and you can’t take it back. So your pain is valid. We all love and grieve and move forward differently,” he says. “It’s all terrifying but that’s the irony of life, I’ve learned. The thing we all want and can’t live without is the same thing that hurts us the most, whether we have it or not.”

There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in the elder man’s words. They cut deep, as you know they come from a place of deep pain. You don’t want to ever go through something that hurts that much.

“I’m too emotional,” Do-hyun sighs, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening crying and having everyone feel bad for her, so she shifts her attention to something else. “I want something juicy.” She briefly looks at Jungkook, who looks blankly at her, so she turns to you instead. “I don’t know much about your love life, ___.”

“Yes, because I don’t have one,” you chuckle, masking the nervousness you feel because talking about its inexistence in front of the man plaguing your mind was not something you planned for this trip.

“But I know you did,” she insists. “I mean, why wouldn’t you?”

“I think what Do-hyun means is that you’re a highly capable, kind, and attractive woman,” Chin-sun chimes in. “Surely there have been prospects for a relationship, yes?”

“Like Mr. Min!” Yohan says now. “I always thought you two were cute together. Do-hyun and I would bet on it since she says you’re not the type to date co-workers.”

“And she’s right,” you say, glancing at Jungkook whose face you can’t read. “Yoongi and I are good friends. That’s all we ever were.”

“Well, I think he’s very nice and he’d treat you well,” Yohan sighs. “But I guess it might be weird to date someone you work with. I have friends I can match you with!”

“That’s not necessary,” you laugh. “I don’t think relationships are for everyone.”

“Why not?” Do-hyun asks.

You contemplate on whether or not you’re ready for this conversation, especially since it’s the type you usually just have with your best friends. You suppose it’s why your colleagues claim they don’t know much about you other than the way you work because you don’t really share much about your life, your dreams, or the things you wonder about. You’ve always preferred to keep things to yourself, always worried about how they will be received.

But everyone’s allowed themselves to be vulnerable tonight, and given the distance you’ve created between you and them all these years, you think the least you could do is be honest. It’s a team building thing anyway, and people bond over shared experiences during these times.

“I’ve… dated people but it was never serious,” you start. “I never really saw myself committing to them. Sure, I’d give my time and energy but nothing more. There’s so much courage in loving another person. I just don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough for that. I mean, it’s just hard to control. Once you start, you can’t stop; once you do it too much, you can’t pull back.”

“Sounds to me like you’re afraid that you won’t receive as much as you give,” Manager Lee states. “It’s how love is, though. It’s not always equal. But that’s the risk you take, that’s the trust you build. That even when what’s given isn’t the same, there’s still love there.”

“But isn’t that the scary part of it all?” You counter. “Like what Mr. Ri said, you give a part of yourself to someone when you love them but what if they don’t want that specific part of you? Or they did then one day they decide they don’t anymore? So they just retreat and leave you out in the open. They’re safe but you’re not, because you broke down your walls for them but they didn’t do the same.”

“That’s the thing about finding the right person, ___,” Manager Lee says, with all the wisdom of a man who’s loved and lost and loved again. “You either trust that they won’t do that, or you accept that they could and you’d still think that loving them is worth all the pain that losing them would cost. In the end, you get to decide. If you keep yourself from feeling it, how are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t?”

You’ve heard versions of these words before, too. Soomin and Jimin, whose respective relationship ups and downs you’ve witnessed, have said themselves that committing yourself to someone takes a whole lot of faith in the person and in yourself. It’s because you’re giving them an opportunity to hurt you but you have to trust that they won’t. A lot of times, they do, so you then have to trust in your own ability to get over them.

The thoughts swim in your head and with your silence, Chin-sun gives you an encouraging smile. She’s a few years older than you and has experienced a lot when it comes to relationships, and you can sense that she understands your hesitation and your fear.

“It’s scary but when you find someone who makes you feel brave, that can make all the difference,” she says.

Admitting all this makes you feel exposed, especially when your eyes flit to Jungkook and you find him gazing at you, as if he’s trying to figure you out. You’re worried that any other move you make or things you say will lead him to uncovering your feelings that you acknowledge is beyond just physical attraction at this point.

You find yourself worrying about him constantly, wondering what he’s doing or if he’s getting proper rest. You’re always thinking about his smile and the sound of his laugh, and you imagine how much sweeter and softer they could get. You want him to be happy, to find his peace, to have something to look forward to. And you want to know what his touch feels and how it’s like to have him close.

You know all this is wrong because of who you are and who he is in this world, especially as you realize that you’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The fear makes itself even more known as it is embodied in the man across from you - so palpable and overwhelming that you can’t help but want more, and the more his eyes bore into you, the closer you are to giving in.

How are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t if you don’t let yourself feel all of it? And if Jungkook makes you feel brave, then what if he’s the person you’re willing to break down your walls for?

You shake your head, knowing you can’t fall into the trap of your own mind. You need to be logical about this, but you also think that you’ve been that way all your life and it hasn’t brought you much happiness. At this point, you question what that looks like.

Maybe it looks like him. Maybe it’s also life without him.

How do people make decisions like this? You wonder. How do they know how much pain they can bear? And when does it become worth it?

“Wise words,” you manage to say after a tense silence. “You make it sound simple.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Chin-sun says. “Human beings are complicated, ___, so are our emotions. Love makes people stupid. But it also makes us brave and happy and complete. And when it’s shared with the right person, god it feels so good.”

You’re able to get her to share about her own experience and remove the spotlight away from you. Manager Lee narrates his serendipitous love story as well, and the serious tone of the conversation turns into a giddy, enjoyable one. You find yourself constantly glancing at Jungkook, liking his soft smiles and giggles as the stories are told. He briefly meets your eyes during some moments though, and that’s when you look away.

The night ends when he announces that everyone should get some rest and prepare for tomorrow’s activities, so you all clean up and wish each other a good night. Your eyes linger on Jungkook as he walks back to his villa, and you turn away before he does the same, the yearning for him getting stronger as each day passes.

The sun shines beautifully over the lake as you lean on the railing overlooking the water. The clouds over the mountains look like the fog that cleared earlier, and the majestic way that the scenery is framed by the blue skies is absolutely stunning.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jungkook hums from several meters next to you. “I never really bothered to appreciate this view before.”

“It is,” you say, turning to him as he continues to gaze at the scene before you while you gaze at him. If he notices from his periphery, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s breathtaking. I could take a picture but that wouldn’t give this justice.”

“I can try,” he says, reaching out to ask for your phone. “I’m good at this.”

You indulge him and watch as he finds the right angle to beautifully capture the surroundings. He asks if you want him to take another photo with you in it this time, and though you’re a little shy, you let him.

You warm at how natural your smile looks, realizing that you were focusing on his smile while he was taking the picture. The view looks surreal but you’re in there, and it’s a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. Jungkook remarks that it’s a nice shot before turning back to the water, and while you wish you were braver and had asked to take one with him so you could hold onto this memory, you know you’ll look at this photo of you and also remember what you’re feeling. There’s so much calm and clarity, and you know it’s not just because of the mountains.

The tension and fear that filled you up last night have slowly turned into a sense of relief. The distance that once bothered you about Jungkook now gives you comfort. No matter how far or unattainable he may be, you still feel his presence - his warmth is in the peacefulness of a park at night, or in the calmness of the lake, or in the safety of your neighborhood library. You never imagined that one Jeon Jungkook would ever make you feel this way, and if he’s someone who makes you be brave to feel something new, maybe you owe it to him and to yourself to be brave to pursue that, too.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Yohan yells that breakfast is ready. You all gather in the common dining room for some dumpling soup before a short planning session to give you time to digest. At 9:30, the first activity begins, with all six of you divided into two teams to finish an obstacle course.

It gets competitive when you’re teamed up with the younger ones, as Do-hyun and Yohan attempt to trash talk the others. They give it their all, especially when they see Jungkook dominating the kayaking part of the course, but the three of you manage in the end. A part of you feels that the other team just wanted to make the younger ones win only to use it against them later on, but the fun and excitement are what matter.

You enjoy some meat and stew for lunch and have another planning session before doing the afternoon games, which has Jungkook on the losing team again. He comes up with a last minute individual game that gives Manager Lee the chance to win this time, and the afternoon ends with all of you, excluding him, winning prizes you can enjoy after this.

The free time before dinner has you reading your book by the lake and then talking with Chin-sun in the hammock while the rest of the team enjoy the sunset and some beer. You’re thankful that this time, Mr. Ri was tasked to handle all the activities instead of you, and so you’re able to focus on spending time with your colleagues.

You grill meat again for dinner, roast marshmallows over the campfire, and passionately sing off-key in the karaoke. But unlike last night, people decide to go to bed early, definitely tired from today’s physical activities.

You’re exhausted as well but somehow, the pull of the cold evening air is too strong, so you decide to walk to the main house and grab a bottle of beer. When you walk out to the deck, you’re surprised to find Jungkook seated on a lounge chair outside of his villa, glass in hand as he looks up at the sky.

Jungkook savors the crisp breeze, knowing that once he gets back to Seoul, all he’ll have is the musty air and the buzzing sounds of the city. He wants to remember this weekend and the peace he felt. Maybe he should’ve taken a photo of the view this morning like he did for you; he at least has the one of you in it that he took ingrained in his mind. You looked so calm and happy; he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face then.

He’s trying to keep as much of today in his memory as he can, knowing how hectic it’s going to be when you all get back. Other than the amount of fun he didn’t expect to have with the team, he enjoyed seeing a different side of you.

You were competitive but encouraging, probably not the most athletic but definitely capable. He could pick out your squeals and laughter and he thought they were sweet and hypnotic, and he appreciated how thoughtful you were during dinner, making sure everyone had enough to eat, especially him. You would catch his attention to ask if his meat is okay or if he’s feeling comfortable; he hated that it all ended so soon. Though he shouldn’t, he wanted more time with you. It’s different being out here than it is in the office or even in his home. Here, he’s unguarded and a lot more free, and he’s able to make more sense of how you affect him; in a way, he’s able to truly feel all that you make him feel.

There’s so much of you in his mind but you’re not around, so he stands up to head to bed already, hoping he’d at least see you in his dreams. But when he turns towards the door, he sees a silhouette in the main house’s deck. And as if the universe is giving him some sign, he finds you there, standing by the post with a beer in hand. You lift the bottle in cheers and he lifts his drink in return, sipping every last drop he could.

He sees you grab another bottle from the outdoor fridge then place it on the coffee table, an invitation to join you that he’s glad you make. He would’ve been too hesitant to make the move, unsure of your willingness to be in his presence.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask as he nears the couch.

He sits next to you, the short distance a little too tempting to close.

“Sort of,” he hums. “And you?”

“Not really. I don’t get much of the outdoors back in my tiny apartment,” you chuckle.

“Fair enough. The weather’s been nice, fortunately. Not like the last time we were out of town, yeah?”

“Yeah, fortunately,” you shyly look at him, not saying more, perhaps unsure if it’s something he’s ready to talk about.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I’ve accepted you having witnessed my extreme moment of weakness. You were patient and understanding even when I was angry and I… I don’t know if I’ve thanked you enough for that.”

“You have, and I understand it all. But Jungkook, what happened at that guest house is not weakness,” you insist. “That’s… dealing with a painful memory.”

“That wasn’t dealing, ___. I was suffering. That's… that’s what happens when someone doesn’t know how to move on from something.”

“Does it happen a lot?” You wonder.

“Well, the nightmares tend to happen when the thunder is really loud,” he says. “Otherwise I just get really anxious, like when it rains, my brain just expects things to get bad.”

“What do you do when it does?”

“I don’t know how I manage, actually,” he answers. “I usually forget and just remember that I wake up dry in my bed. I mean, I’d be sweating but not soaked. I guess that night, I was just too nervous because the rain was so strong, we were on the road. And I was somewhere completely unfamiliar with you. I… I think that made it worse.”

Your silence prompts him to clarify. “I mean, I didn’t want you to see me that way, that’s why it was worse,” he states. “It’s not a side of me I’m proud of. Which is silly thinking about it now because you’ve seen a lot of sides of me that I’m not proud of. All of them, actually.”

“So you’re not proud of the side of you that protected me? That made sure I was safe? That rushed to find me when I was stuck in the rain?” You ask.

“It’s what any decent human being would do,” he dismisses. “Those just probably stand out because I wasn’t exactly one in the beginning.”

“Well, you had Mr. Ri drive me. You’d make me go home early sometimes, too.”

“___, again, that’s what a decent boss should be doing. It’s the bare minimum. You deserve more kindness than you’re receiving. I… I should have been that to you from the start.”

“We’ve moved past that, remember? It’s all okay. I managed, I stayed. And I’m glad I did. I got to learn so much from you,” you assure him. “And you deserve more kindness than you’re receiving, too.”

Jungkook hums. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to freely talk to you about all this - about how he was before and how he’s been recently. And like always, you’re gentle with him. He could only hope you’re as gentle as you are with yourself, something he doesn’t know how to do.

“I… I hope you’ve found ways to cope with all that you went through,” he says, turning away from you in shame. “I… I’m still learning.”

“It’s a process, and it’s not an easy one. No one really tells you how to do it. You kind of just… find your way,” you share. “But just think that the thunder doesn’t last long. It’s going to pass. So maybe when it starts raining, you can do what I did. Just cover your ears to block out the sounds. All we can do sometimes is shield ourselves from it, you know? It would scare us a little less.”

“I don’t even remember how you did it,” he admits. “I felt so out of it that night.”

“But did it help?” You ask.

He nods in response. “I wasn’t alone. I think that was the first time in a long time.”

“When you are, just do what I do,” you say, turning towards him and closing the distance to cover his ears with your hands. “Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly. The hollowness will drown out the sounds until they stop.”

Jungkook’s eyes swim in yours. He can’t tell you that he doubts it’d work without you, since your comforting look and your calm voice are what made him pull through. But still, he knows that imagining you’re there would definitely help.

“Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly,” he repeats, almost like a whisper. “Got it.”

You smile and it’s like a spell for him, as he mindlessly puts his hands over yours and slowly brings them down. He’s so lost in you that he only realizes he’s still holding your hands when you look down, so he immediately pulls away.

“Who taught you how to do that?” He asks, masking his embarrassment.

“My mom,” you answer, shifting back on your seat and looking out at the horizon. “My dad copped out before he knew I existed and she was too heartbroken to ask for him back. It took a while but she eventually found another man. I was pretty young then. He was okay, but then he lost his job and things went downhill from there.”

Jungkook sees the way your face falls and he already knows his heart is going to break for you.

“He would drink a lot and they’d fight all the time. He’d yell and yell, and then yell some more,” you narrate. “Mom would make me hide in the closet or under the bed just so I’d hear less of it. Thunder used to scare me, too; it sounded like his banging on the wall when he’d scream at her but eventually, I realized the roar drowns him out so I welcomed it. But I would just cover my ears and think of happy thoughts like she said. Sometimes she’d come to me and do it like I did with you. I always liked that better.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, wanting to take your hand back and comfort you in any way. “You shouldn’t have experienced that.”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes,” you sigh, having accepted the hand you were dealt. “My mom and I got out and she found someone who loves and respects her. And we just found ways to deal with the pain, you know? We could only bury it for so long. And so covering my ears just became a habit as I grew up. It was a way to battle all that.”

“I’ve seen you do that a few times.”

“It’s like a general coping mechanism of some sort,” you explain. “Sometimes the loud sounds come from inside, too. Thoughts of not being good enough, of being selfish, of not deserving of happiness… I mean, they come from others but they stay in my head. I have to cover my ears to stop them from overwhelming me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking away in shame when you turn to him questioningly. “You did that several times during my first weeks. I know I… I said things that hurt you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was hard for everyone and like I said, I forgive you. But I've been told worse things,” you shake your head. “You’ve heard some of them.”

“You didn’t deserve those either.”

“I know. That’s why I walked away. It’s easy to do that when you don’t give much of yourself to them. And I do it all the time,” you say. “I never really stay.”

“Would you stay if you found the right person?”

You remember a conversation with him months ago, about people being temporary and how they’d only stay if they had a reason to. It’s safe to say that finding the right person would be your reason, but that also makes it harder.

“I probably would,” you respond. “And I think that scares me, too.”

“Why?” He asks.

“What if I would stay for them? But they won’t stay for me?”

Jungkook leaves your question unanswered, knowing there’s nothing he can say that would sufficiently validate your fear nor comfort you about it. His own past relationship doesn’t give him any right - Chaerin left him but he gave her all the reasons to; she walked away and he did the same. Sometimes he wonders if she’d lost him before he lost her. He also doesn’t know if he loved her so much that he let her go, or if he didn’t love her enough to make her stay. Maybe it was neither. Or maybe he was just too scared - that she’d reject him, or that he wouldn’t be able to love her better if he she came back, he doesn’t know. He was never brave enough to find out.

He lets the silence linger, prompting you to remark that the conversation is too sad for a night as pretty as tonight.

“We should probably head to bed, though,” he suggests. “We still have stuff in the morning then a long ride home. I don’t have to remind you how hectic this next week is gonna be.”

“You just did,” you frown, earning you a laugh. “But I agree. Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Your shy smile makes his breath hitch. He wants this to go on for longer but he knows he might just let his guard down even more, maybe share about his other pains and frustrations and worries about life. Maybe he’ll end up moving closer to you, close enough that he’d smell your classic rose scent that makes his mind feel hazy. Maybe he’ll want more, and he reminds himself of all the boundaries he shouldn’t cross, and that crossing them may push you away.

So he says goodnight and you both walk towards your respective villas, looking back one more time before heading inside.

You’re all he thinks about for the rest of the night. His gaze follows you all through the next morning, too. He misses your presence when he leaves for Seoul in his own car, and he’s back to being a giddy mess when you message him, saying you hope he got home safely.

It almost feels like the weekend was a dream and when Monday comes, he has to remind himself that he’s back to reality and that includes how he should be when it comes to you. Those days remain in his memory, but when you enter his apartment that morning with the softest smile, and when you meet his eyes as you fix his necktie, he knows it wasn’t a dream. And that somehow, just like him, you wish it didn’t have to end.

It’s been over a week since the team building and you haven’t really moved on from all that happened during those three days. There was the joy of being with your colleagues and the companionship you felt thankful to have. There was also the tranquility of the lake and the refreshing environment that rejuvenated you, making you wish you were back there, especially as you sort through the printed photos from your disposable camera and see the pretty views that you already miss.

There’s that photo you took of Jungkook by the stream that you’ve been staring at, another reason why you want to go back to that time. His eyes are warm and his smile is soft and subtle, unforced and just as captivating. It’s quite calming, and it’s the image that you hold onto later that Thursday evening when you’re piled under loads of paperwork. It’s past 6PM but you can’t afford to leave yet, and the only good thing about it is that he’s still around, and you get to sneak in some glances through the window.

You’ve become that person, smitten by her attractive boss and definitely stupid enough to be overwhelmed by her emotions. You haven’t stopped thinking about him. Everyday that you enter his space, the desire to know him more gets stronger; with every common place you step into, you keep wishing he’d ask you to stay close, that he’d invite you to somewhere reserved for those he lets in. Every time your fingers brush, you’re reminded of the way his hands felt on top of yours and how you wanted him to keep them there, and every look you share makes you hope that you’re not the only one in this mess of emotions. And that if you’ll give in, so would he.

You’re not quite sure what he feels, but if his shy smiles and the way he intensely looks at you before looking away mean anything, then you could at least say that there’s definitely something there. You just don’t know if he would acknowledge it or if like you, it’s gotten too strong that you’re unable to think clearly or act rationally.

Finally done with the last item on your task list for today, you start to pack up. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits from his room to return a portfolio he took earlier and place it on your desk. You’re about to pick it up but he says you should just leave it there and fix it tomorrow.

But you disregard him. You retrieve the stool and attempt to return the portfolio on the top shelf. It’s a little heavy but you manage; you even start fixing the others that moved because Jungkook’s been getting them these past days. You’re about to step down when you hear his heavy sigh.

“I told you to do that tomorrow,” he groans, walking towards you.

With your back turned, you reply, “I like starting my days with a tidy desk, okay?”

“It’s just one portfolio,” he points out.

“It still takes up so much space. It makes my table look messy.”

“You still could’ve waited. Or you could’ve asked me to help,” he insists, continuing to reprimand you as you try to step down the stool.

He’s a little close, blocking your view of the floor, and that’s why you miss a step and trip again, your squeal echoing throughout the empty floor. You think your heart racing is about to join in on the sounds, too, as it quickens when you realize that Jungkook has caught you by your waist, his tight grip on you sending shivers down your spine.

He’s gotten even closer, as you look up and find his scrunched eyebrows and worried eyes staring back at you. The tension starts to rise but you manage to tell him that you’re fine after he asks if you’re hurt.

“I’m sure,” you tell him. “You caught my fall. Again.”

You giggle and that’s what makes him let out a laugh as well. Your left hand holds onto the shelf but his hands remain on you. He’s still a breath away but you suddenly don’t mind, as your right hand mindlessly makes its way to rest on his arm. At this moment, this feels right. You’re all alone in your little bubble with him where you’re all he sees and he’s all you can breathe in.

His bergamot scent wafts through your nose. You can count his eyelashes and see the scar on his cheek that you never noticed. He’s even more breathtaking up close, and as if all reason evaporates from your body, you don’t pull away. You want him just like this.

On second thought, you want him even closer.

“You’re a clumsy woman, aren’t you?” He says, his voice low and deep. “This isn’t the first time that I’m breaking your fall.”

“Well, if you would just be quiet while I’m attempting to go down, then that wouldn’t be a problem,” you breathily giggle, inching the tiniest bit forward.

“Well, if you just listened to me the first time, then you wouldn't have to climb up there,” he responds, earning him a playful roll of your eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, too.”

“So I’ve heard,” you match his teasing. “Can't help it sometimes.”

“So you acknowledge it?” He raises an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say much more nervously now, meeting his eyes. It’s like you’re hypnotized again, caught in some spell where being in his presence makes you honest and uninhibited. “I mean, I feel things I shouldn’t feel and want people I shouldn’t want,” you add. “Doesn’t that make me stubborn?”

“What’s stopping you from feeling them? From having them?” He asks, his voice remaining low and his eyes, even more piercing and desperate now as they stare back at you.

His thumbs lightly caress your waist and his touch electrifies you through the thin material of your blouse. There’s so much to say and it’s way more complicated, just as your feelings for him are. You can’t help but eye his lips, soft and pink, and the desire to know what they taste like intensifies, prompting you to nibble your own.

“What’s stopping me?” You pant now, your gaze flitting from his eyes back to his lips, with him doing the same. “The ways of the world. And some… boundary that pulls me back, a line that I don’t know he’s ready to cross for me.”

The words actualize your fears the moment you say them. You know all the reasons why wanting him is wrong. But there’s a small part of you that wants to give in, and it’s terrified that he wouldn’t, that he’d dismiss what you feel and pull away. The way he’s been with you and the way he’s holding you right now spark that sliver of hope you have that he feels the same way, but it’s also the same moment that he lets you go, perhaps realizing that he’s not willing to take the risk the way you are.

He releases you from his hold and steps back, creating distance, and you suddenly feel bare - exposed and unguarded without his touch. He looks at you in panic, in apology, in fear, as if he’d had some sense knocked into him, as if he awakened from some spell that pushed him close to you, only to realize that that’s a place he can’t go.

“I—”

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

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dellalyra · 1 year

Note

OMG I WAS JUST HAVING BRAINROT ABOUT GOJO AND Y/N IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND

imagine that back then they had to participate in a talent show or something and megumi and the rest watch the old video tape they found in the darkest corner of the library on campus.

the tape was in a box with a label reading "the best jujutsu tech students' and its just filled with memories of their teen years.

they decide to watch the talent show one and its just chaotic as hell. mid way through megumi, nobara and yuuji get caught watching it lmao

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

A/N: this request. came in last night - and it’s all I’ve done today because it was so perfect it’s all I could think about. ur amazing ily

CW: swearing, weed, suggestive stuff, mdni i stg shoo

“Itadori! Bring these to the garbage!” Nobara shouts.

“Why me?! Why can’t you do it?!” He retorts as Megumi just rolls his eyes at the two of them, he wonders how they turned into siblings so easily.

“Fushiguro! Tell your boyfriend to take this to the garbage. It’s heavy and he should use his freaky wall-breaking strength for something useful!” She shouts back.

“Eh?! Is exorcising cursed and carrying you like a sack of flour not useful?! Or always carrying all your dumb shopping?!” They’ve broken into an all out sibling squabble by now, Megumi just turns away and continues the task of clearing out the storeroom behind the dojo in the school. Pushing boxes of old files and reports out of the way, he finds a box covered in doodles and stickers, taped shut at the top. He goes to inspect the very out of place container and finds words among the doodles of weirdly shaped beings and flowers.

‘The Best Jujutsu Tech Students.’

“Will you two shut up for two minutes, come look at this.” He says over his shoulder to the two, with Nobara releasing Yuuji from the headlock she somehow got him in.

“Ancient treasure! I told you we’d find something cool.” Yuuji shouts, pumping his fist into the air.

“What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean?! We’re clearing out a high school storage room, dumbass.” The girls rolls her eyes.

They inspect the box, trying to figure out the doodles.

“It doesn’t look super old? Open it, Itadori.” Nobara says.

“Will you quit telling me what to do?!” He says, huffing.

While they resumed the bickering, Megumi took a knife he had hidden in the shadows and sliced through the lines of tape holding the box together. The sound alerted the other two who peered into the box alongside him.

“Wait, are they… DVD’s?” Megumi asks.

“Yeah - but they’re homemade ones. Is there a label on them?” His boyfriend says, leaning in to get a closer looks.

The box itself was filled with small DVD cases of many colours - all labelled in a scrawling handwriting the kids felt like they knew.

“There’s a DVD player in the room where I hung out when I was dead.” Yuuji says, and hauls the box up and begins to walk. None of them even needed to discuss whether or not they’d be watching them, like a hive mind - but with maybe two shared brain cells.

They all made their way across campus, to a room in the same building as their Sensei’s office.

Nobara insisted on grabbing snacks from the vending machine en route, and they sat down on the sofa while Yuuji loaded the first date labelled ‘2003, December.” Well, that’s what they think it’s said. The handwriting was such a chicken scratch it almost looked like a doctor’s unintelligible writing.

The screen came to life - sounds buzzing and voices echoing (albeit muffled) as the screen panned from looking at the floor - to the sky, the the floor again. Then - a face came on screen.

A very familiar one - but… a hell of a lot younger.

“Wait… is that -?” Nobara asks.

“Shoko-sensei?!” Yuuji exclaims.

“That’s kinda how she looked when I was a kid. She’s in her uniform, so this must be when she was in school.” Megumi adds.

The camera pulls away from the close up on her face as another figure enters the shot - a man with odd bangs, silky black hair tied up into a bun and piercing dark eyes. He had a lazy smile in his face as he looked into the camera, poking a finger into Shoko’s cheek.

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” She says as she flicks his hand away.

“That’s - that’s Geto Suguru.” Megumi says. Geto had always been a bittersweet topic in their house, only getting worse in the last year and a half since… since he died.

The next action causes a gasp to echo across the room. A smiling face pops up between both figures.

Dark, circular sunglasses perched on a slim, pale nose and a wide, toothy, cheeky smile sat under a mop of shocking white, messy hair.

“Holy shit! That’s -” Yuuji starts.

“Dad.” Megumi whispers, seeing Satoru so young, probably around his age was amazing to him.

“Wow! It’s working! Is it on? Is it filming?” 16 year old Gojo says, voice eerily familiar, but much younger.

The three faces were all staring into the lens of the camera, only visible from the shoulders up. On screen, Shoko looked down and moved her arm and another head popped up from the bottom of the screen, trying to squeeze in.

The head of H/C hair and shiny eyes wiggled their way into the shot between Suguru and Shoko, and under Satoru.

“Did you say it’s on? It on recording right now?” The new figure pokes the camera.

“No fucking way… Fushiguro! That’s -” Nobara says, swirling to look at the taller boy.

“My mom.” He says, eyes fixed on screen. Your face was younger, hair the same as ever, eyes still full of excitement and curiosity and voice slightly higher than it is now. A hand pats the top of your head, a pale one - Satoru.

“Do a dance for the camera, Y/N.” Satoru says, smiling.

And you do a little wiggle in your spot squeezed between everyone as the other three burst out laughing.

The camera cuts off, and the screen changes to a view of the outside - all of them immediately recognising the training field.

In view is Geto and Gojo, sparring at such a ridiculously quick speed it’s barely visible. He could hear giggling behind the screen and recognised the voices of you and Shoko laughing about something that happened in class.

“They’re such show offs.” Your voice says.

“Geto genuinely wants to train, Gojo is just trying to impress you.” Shoko says, voice muffled by something - which he later sees as a lollipop, figuring it out when it gets launched across the field - presumably in retaliation for her comment by you.

“No way, Koko! That’s just dumb, he’s just a show off in general.” Your voice echoes.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.”

The camera cuts off again. The next thing they see is the night sky, and raucous laughter. The camera is being held by Shoko again, and she points it to a view of a rooftop - the flat part of the roof of the dorm building. The camera turns to one Suguru Geto, eyes hazy and smile even more languid than normal. In his hand was a smoking object - which he passed to Shoko.

They were both laughing together about Shoko saying she could see a constellation shaped like a penis, and the hysterical giggles and she rested her head on the boys shoulder told them that the joint in Shoko’s hand was very much affecting them.

There were clambering sounds.

“I can’t reach!” Came your voice, distant and off screen.

“C’mere shortstack, I’ll give you a boost.” The teasing lilt of Gojo’s voice came after.

“Thanks, Jack the Beanstalk.” Your retort sent the two original stars into another round of laughter before you and Gojo enter the frame, both holding a plastic bag of snacks.

Shoko gives you the joint as you sit, and you take a quick puff and pass it back to Suguru. Satoru declines it, saying it makes his eyes feel funny to which you all nod and say ‘makes sense’.

“Did you get me spicy chips?” Suguru asks, combing through the bags.

“Yes. But - you had to tell me you love me to get them.” Satoru says, smirking.

“Gojo Satoru - you are the light of my life, the centre of my world, the reason my heart beats, please, May I have my child you absolute fuckwad.” He says, as Satoru throws his head back laughing and throws a red bag of chips at him before tackling him to the ground demanding a kiss.

You laugh at the scene, turning to Shoko.

“See - that’s how Geto has at least one date every weekend.” You say, opening your chocolate.

“Man-whore.” She responds, sucking on a lollipop.

The screen flashes black. The same view is on the screen, but the atmosphere is much calmer. Suguru lay, head on Shoko’s lap and her deft fingers carding through his hair as he listens to whatever nonsense Gojo is spouting. The camera turns to a view that has Nobara and Yuuji cooing. Satoru is sitting, arm around your back to keep you upright with your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and clearly sleeping.

Suguru’s voice whispers into the camera.

“And these two say they’re not into each other.” Followed by a scoff from Shoko.

Next up is a view of the training field again, with a sight that made the three current first years laugh. Suguru was laying on the grass, and he was bench pressing you - his makeshift weight - as you lay relaxed horizontally reading a book, the casual nature made it clear this was a daily occurrence.

Once his reps are finished, he gently lets you down and you don’t even react, just laying on the grass continuing your book. He stands up and waves to Shoko, who he’s just noticed with her camera and proceeds to take off his shirt and let down his hair.

“Put your damn shirt back on!” Shoko shouts.

“God damn, maybe I should be a curse user.” Nobara utters, whistling and fanning herself.

The camera is next held up by Satoru - who smiles and puts a finger to his lips to symbolise silence, for some reason, like the camera would be unexpectedly loud. He turns the camera and in the backseat of a car is Shoko and you, both asleep and earphones split between you with a bright pink iPod on Shoko’s lap. Her head was resting in the crook of your neck, and you cheek rested on top of your head.

“They really have always been best friends, haven’t they?” Yuuji says. Megumi is reminded of last week, when Nobara and Yuuji fell asleep in the back of Ijichi’s car, in the exact same position.

The camera operator is back to Shoko now, who is filming the most beautiful scenery. Sakura petals are drifting through the air as throngs of people wander around what appears to be a festival. There’s food stalls and trinket stands and everyone around is in their finery.

“Suguru! Show the camera your best pose.” Shoko says, as Suguru appears on screen decked out in a black and grey kimono with his hair in a half up, half down style.

He throws a peace sign at the camera and then takes it so he can film Shoko who’s in a pretty red Yukata pattered with black and white koi. She smiles and then waves as she looks off camera.

“You’re late, Satoru. Where’s Y/N?” She says as Gojo comes on screen.

He’s wearing a dark blue and silver hakama which looks like it cost the same as a house, Suguru wolf whistles and Satoru pretends to fawn over him.

“She was having lunch with her mom, she’s probably going to be here - holy shit.” Satoru says, but cuts himself off halfway as his jaw drops open.

The camera pans messily as Suguru turns to where Satoru is looking.

You’re walking toward them, smile on your face and usually messy hair styled in a beautiful updo, make up making your skin glow in the afternoon sun. You were wearing a light pink, billowy, gauzy hanfu with tiny pale green flowers and leaves around the edges. You did truly look incredibly stunning. You had a little bag in your hand, and the camera flew back to look at Satoru who was gaping at your approaching figure. His usually pale skin flushed with a pink dusting.

His mouth moves, and it seems unconscious when he whispers to himself.

“Beautiful…”

You walk into the frame, smiling brightly and hugging Shoko and then freezing when you see Satoru, eyes widening at the strikingly handsome figure he makes, every inch a fairytale Prince. The pink on your cheek matches your outfit as you stammer out a breathy,

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He says, mouthing opening and closing as you look at him through fluttering lashes.

There’s a jolt as it seems Suguru holding the camera elbows his best friend and whispers in his ear, just audible to the camera.

“Bro, tell her she looks beautiful, damn it.”

“You… you look um - beautiful, Y/N.” He stammers out, and the three first years watching laugh at how their oh-so-smooth sensei was once such a mess he needed prompting to flirt from his friends.

You flush even deeper.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look really good too. The um… the blue really suits you. The restaurant I had lunch with my mom had Sakura mochi, so I - I got you some.” You say as you shove a small nicely wrapped box at him and Satoru seems to melt. Shoko appears on screen, making a circle with one hand and poking a finger through it repeatedly in a very lewd gesture that has Suguru cackling.

“Wait - they’re not even together yet. They didn’t get together until the end of their second year.” Megumi muses, smirking.

“So they’ve always been this whipped for each other.” Nobara laughs.

The DVD ends there, and Yuuji jumps up to put in the next one, labelled ‘second year’.

The video begins with you sprinting toward Shoko and her catching you in her arms.

“I missed you so much! A whole summer without you, it was torture. How was the medical camp?” You ask her, barely taking a breath between words.

“Did you not miss me, lil’ lady?” Came a smooth voice as one Geto Suguru wraps his arms around you too, and you squeal in excitement. The three standing are then abruptly tackled to the ground as a blur of white and black whizzes toward them.

“Satoru!” Came three scolding voices.

“How the fuck did you do that, you lanky - oh.” Shoko is stopped abruptly as they all stand up and the change in Satoru is clearly visible. Long gone is the beanstalk boy of their first year, all arms and legs at 16 and now at almost 18 - a broad shouldered, 6ft 3, sharper jawline and longer hair Gojo stands before them. You look like you might faint.

The video stops and then resumes looking at a very familiar blackboard, and a much younger Yaga beside it.

In front of the blackboard there’s two students in Jujutsu High uniforms - both in party hats and standing under a banners with ‘Welcome First Years!’ written in big bubble writing on it, the sounds of streamers and party poppers came through the room as the camera was set down on a desk.

Gojo comes on screen and waves his arms as if to show off the two students. One looked incredibly happy, a beaming smile full of excitement and the other looking absolutely miserable, but given how painfully 2005 emo he looked - it wasn’t surprising. Megumi smirked, seeing the blond boy on screen and knowing exactly who it was from photo albums you kept - but he waited to see when the other two would notice.

“Welcome to Yu Haibara! Please - introduce yourself!” Gojo says, pointing a bottle of cola at him like a microphone.

“Hi! I’m Yu! I’m 16 and I like rice and people!” He says, voice full of enthusiasm.

“Thank you! Next up, Gerard Way!” Satoru smiles and point the mock microphone to the other boy.

“Do I have to? This feels unnecessary.” He says, grimacing.

“Yes! You do!”

“Fine. My name is Nanami Kento -”

Megumi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as a chorus of ‘What the fuck!?’ Echoes from the two beside him.

“Nobara, rewind that - I think I heard it wrong, I thought the emo kid said his name was Nanami, hah!” Yuuji exclaims.

“No need. You heard right.” Megumi smirks.

“No fucking way! That’s Nanamin?!” Yuuji is smiling so wide at the sight of his mentor as a moody teen.

“Yup. I remember his hair like that, he had a lip ring and a nose ring too. Geto Suguru pierced his nose with Shoko’s med kit for him when they drank too much whiskey at my mom’s 18th. There’s a picture of them doing it framed in their room at home.” Megumi scoffs a laugh, the other two in shock at the revelation.

The camera stops again and next time is looking from an upstairs window as voices whisper.

“What is she doing?” Shoko asks.

“It looks like she’s talking?” Geto asks.

“There’s a tiny spike in her cursed energy - wait, I’ll try see if there’s someone around.” He says and the clink of his sunglasses hitting the windowsill breaks the quiet.

On screen, there’s you in a pair of fluffy blue pyjamas and a winter knitted hat as you seem to be kneeling and ushering something small out of a bush. Satoru seems to have gotten distracted and the camera pans to him - who’s just staring out the window with the most dopey, lovestruck smile on his face.

“Satoru.” Suguru says, flicking his ear.

He snarls, but blushes.

“I - I can’t tell but, it kinda seems like? She is trying to talk to something.” He says, as they all crane their necks as you pull something into your arms and stand up, taking off your hat and tucking whatever you found into it and scurrying back inside.

An obnoxious ringtone of crazy frog blasts through the room and Satoru flips open his phone and answers it.

Since it’s you, he puts it on speaker.

“Hey, Satoru - are you still at the store? I - kinda need something, urgently.” Your voice asks.

“Eh - yeah, I’m at the store. What do you need?” He says, trying to hush the two sniggering traitors beside him who are fully aware that he came back from the store an hour ago and is sitting in Suguru’s dorm with them.

“I - um, I need kitten milk.” Your voice says, just as the camera cuts off.

The next few videos are just videos on videos on you and a tiny, tiny kitten, feeding it from a small bottle and it sleeping on your chest, or Satoru playing with it and a ball of wool in hysterical laughter. One video is taken by Shoko with Suguru in the frame playing with the kitten who is trying to catch his bangs and on the sofa, is you sitting on Satoru’s lap, as he looks at you adoringly and you giggle and place a kiss on his lips. Given that it’s about 3/4 of the way through your second year, it means you’re freshly together after torturing your friends with mutual pining.

Megumi looks closer at the kitten, and the tabby is very recognisable to him - given that to this day, the hairs of that kitten, now 13 years old and still thriving due to your unwavering spoiling, still decorate any black fabric in your home.

“Is that baby grumpy George?!” Nobara asks, hitting the nail on the head.

The video fades again, and then the screen is illuminated by a makeshift stage in the school sports hall. Another large banner is on the wall, with ‘Talent Show’ written in large writing, Megumi now noticed the big bubble writing was the same as had been on every ‘happy birthday’ banner he’d had every year.

The announcer, he recognises as a smiling principal Yaga - even though this is surely not a school organised or endorsed event, but probably the work of the couple he now calls his parents.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Talent Show! The rules of tonight are as follows a) no cursed techniques or cursed energy and absolutely no sabotaging! Panda! Do you want to say who’s going first?” Yaga announced as he lifts up a baby panda and the voice of the baby says “Nanami and Yu!”.

Yu skips on stage, decked out in a cape patterned with stars and a large top hat, followed by a very sullen Nanami Kento, adorned with a nose and lip ring now.

“Ladies, gentlemen, cursed corpses! My name is Yu the Magic Man and this is my assistant, the Fantastical Nanamin! Does anyone here like rabbits?” He announced, and takes off his hat, revealing a stuffed rabbit on his head - commencing the world’s worst magic show. The highlight was definitely Yu asking Nanami to pull the scarf from his sleeve and after pulling and pulling and pulling, a very frustrated Kento growls ‘Fucking hell, Yu - how long is this thing?’ Completely breaking what little mysticism surrounded the performance. Geto didn’t help, when he muttered ‘that’s what she said’ after Nanami’s complaint, setting the second years off.

After a bow to his rapt audience, and lots of cheering and supportive clapping from you all - the first years leave and Yaga announces the next performance.

A loud bang echoes through the room,

“Holy shit!” Your voice, the 28 year old you, carries through the room as three heads spin around to see their sensei’s back, arms supporting the thighs around his waist, belonging to his wife who’s lipstick is smudged across her cheek and her husband’s face. The white haired man’s white shirt was partially unbuttoned and your sweater had fallen completely off you shoulder - combined with the position you entered the room and the ruined cosmetics it was quite clear why the teachers had stumbled into this forgotten room of jujutsu tech.

“Get a fucking room.” Megumi grumbles.

“We were! But you’re here! And just for that I’m gonna tell you that the sofa you’re sitting on was where Akio was conceived.” Gojo retorts, trying to fix himself as all the kids groan.

“Both of you, hush. ‘Toru - look at the screen.” You were transfixed on the paused screen.

“Wait! Is that - that’s our talent show! From second year! Where did you guys find this?” Satoru says, leaping over the back of the sofa and plopping down but not before turning around and picking you up by the waist and sitting you in his lap.

“I thought all the DVD’s were lost! Koko couldn’t find them after we graduated!” You say, as you keep staring at the screen.

“We were clearing out the storage room, like Ijichi asked and we found a funky box with DVD’s in it.” Yuuji says.

“Oh my god! Press play!” You say, clapping.

“Look at angry Nanamin!” Gojo says, smiling.

“Next up is Y/N and Shoko!” Screen Yaga announces.

You and Shoko are dressed in the most colourful outfits ever, you’re beaming and Shoko looks exhausted. Large headbands, crimped hair, tutu skirts, leggings, neon leg warmers and beads were the costume of choice as Geto stood on one side of the stage.

“Welcome to - Y/N and Shoko’s dance bonanza!” You both say, and Geto presses play so that Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun plays to match the 80s Cyndi Lauper style outfits. Having danced ballet as a little girl, and being a big fan of Just Dance and Dance Dance Revolution - you decided that you and Shoko would do this for the show, exhausted and unenthusiastic - but endlessly loyal to her best friend and determined to not let Gojo win the show. You guys danced a perfectly in sync routine with 28 year old you shouting ‘Oh my god, I still remember the routine!’ Halfway through. Yuuji was hopping along on the sofa beside Megumi.

Before Shoko could collapse into a heap as the song finished, she was thrown over Suguru’s shoulder and hauled off stage with Gojo doing the same for you.

After a brief intermission, Geto and Gojo were welcomed on stage in matching black tuxedo’s, off camera your voice could be heard saying ‘ugh, I’m gonna climb that man like a tree later, suits are the best.’

“Ladies, gents - tonight welcome to The GS squared stand up comedy show, enjoy your night and Geto’s number is available after the show.” Gojo drawls into the mic.

Megumi didn’t expect the routine to be as funny as it was, everyone especially enjoyed the part where they did impressions of different Jujutsu Elders, including Naobito Zen’in and Principal Gakuganji - which were unnervingly accurate but highly offensive to them, especially when Gojo got on his knees to imitate how short the elder Kyoto principal was and Geto kept playing Looney Tunes on the projector to show Naobito’s ‘cursed technique’.

When the audience were thoroughly hysterically laughing, with the audience being Yaga, MeiMei, Panda, Y/N, Shoko, Yu, Kento and Utahime who was visiting Shoko for the weekend, the boys bowed, winked and walked off stage and the camera caught Gojo bending down to whisper something in his ear which had you looking at the sky and blushing - still getting used to openly loving each other.

The voting wasn’t recorded, but the winners announcement was and it was shown to be Yu and Nanami - who everyone, except for themselves had voted for.

“Oh my god, these are priceless! I can’t believe I got even funnier with age, and look at your cute little outfit, princess!” Satoru coos.

“There’s a whole box of them, we’ve only watched 2!” Yuuji says, bouncing and handing the box to you and Satoru.

“No way, it’s the whole box! I remember decorating it with Koko! Hold on, I’m gonna ring her to come here.” You say as you take out your phone, smiling at the lockscreen of Satoru, Megumi and your 6 month old son and pulling up Shoko’s contact to ring her to ‘get her ass down here for a surprise’.

“Oh, ‘toru! I bet our DVD of our trip together to Fiji in the summer of third year, Shoko lent us her came for it!” You say, wrapping your arms around him and settling in while Yuuji loads the next DVD.

“Classes are cancelled, I’ve decided it’s home movie day - do we have any popcorn?” Satoru says, smiling at how fondly Megumi is looking at the screen, a still pause screen of himself and you smiling in the training yard together - still looking as lovingly at each other 13 years later. Yuuji has his arm wrapped and Megumi’s shoulders and is leaning into him, as the dark haired boy rubs circles on his boyfriend’s knee - Nobara has her legs stretched across the laps of both boys as the newest video begins.

The door swings open, Shoko entering -

“No fucking way! You found them! Kids, move up - let Aunty Koko sit.” She says, plopping herself between the arm and her two best friends, her nephew and their bonus kids.

She’s glad she bought that camera.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

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saekkas · 1 year

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𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

summary: your beloved son is a tiny, warmer version of your husband, itoshi rin, clingy and talkative without a care in the world. rin thinks you gave birth to a devil, one that won't let him spend time with you alone.

notes: happy birthday to rin itoshi q(≧▽≦q) also shout out to @okkalo because apparently great minds think alike

"black or red?" you mumble, eyes raking down your own reflection in the mirror. "what would he like better?"

at 5 pm on the third friday of every month, you always run into the same problem: date night. itoshi rin, your wonderful and adoring husband of five years, has kept the tradition of taking you out for a romantic dinner and drive throughout the city.

it started on your first anniversary when he surprised you by planning a date at a five-star restaurant that's always fully booked. back then, you were both still fresh out of college with no money to your names and you always wondered how he paid for the cheque.

fast forward years later, with your job as a top marine biologist and his as a renowned soccer player, your college romance seems so far away and yet, it's only bloomed into something far beautiful.

"dad says he likes both!"

you turn around at the words, a grin spreading across your face as you watch your bundle of joy run into the room. his legs are wobbly, and his hair is a dark mess on top of his head but the sight of him barreling straight towards you never fails to warm your heart.

"hello, my prince" you mumble, letting him bury his head into your neck. his hair tickles your skin, and you chuckle when he leaves a kiss on your collarbone. "did you have fun with your dad?"

"yeah! he bought ice cream then we went to the park to play soccer!"

he pulls away from you, bright teal eyes roaming over your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you for years when, in reality, it's only been a few hours. your beloved son is a tiny, warmer version of your husband, clingy and talkative without a care in the world.

"and then we-"

"alright, squirt. time for you to leave."

speak of the devil and he shall appear.

your head snaps towards the bedroom door, your grin melting into a soft smile as your husband steps into the room. rin wears a white fitted undershirt, obviously having changed whilst you were busy with your son.

rin moves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, one your son playfully blanches at, before trying to tug the small carbon copy of himself to where his brother stands at the door.

keyword: trying.

"but i haven't finished talking to mom!" your son whines, tugging his hand out of rin's. he trudges back to you, happily wrapping his arms around your leg, poking his tongue out at your husband. "go away!"

rin grunts, walking over towards you with a growing scowl on his face. "your mom and i have a date. sae's waiting to take you outside."

"well, uncle sae can wait!" the miniature devil in disguise tightens his grip on your leg, shooting a glare at rin before showing you his best puppy eyes. "i wanna be with mom."

"uncle sae can wait, i can't."

sometimes you wonder why the two halves of your heart can never get along.

they bicker, much like how rin used to with sae. whether it's in the morning, afternoon, or night, they'd find a reason to keep on getting on each other's nerves.

you'd be lying if you said it didn't amuse you, especially when you know that their hardheadedness stem from their love of you.

"well you should learn how to be more patient, papa!"

"she's my wife, you little squirt."

you laugh when rin finally reaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist, almost too territorial as he grabs his son's head, moving him away from you like pulling a toy from a claw machine.

"well, she's my mama too!" his small carbon copy huffs, slapping rin's hand away, all the while shooting him a glare. "you're so annoying!"

"okay, okay, that's enough," you sigh out, pressing a kiss to rin's cheek before pushing him away gently, crouching until you're eye level with your son.

you can see rin's disgruntled face in the corner of your eye. "your dad and i have a date tonight, sweetie. will you let us go, hm? i'll cook your favorite meal when you get back from uncle sae's. how about that?"

you watch him hesitate, twitching in his spot, occasionally throwing glances at his dad before he finally says, "i want that and kisses! cuddles too!"

you wonder where he learned to be such a good negotiator.

"okay," you mumble, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead before rin takes his hand, practically dragging your son to the front door where his brother stands, waiting with an amused smile. "be a good boy, okay?"

"wait, one more thing!" your little boy lurches out of rin's grip and you have to silence your laugh with a hand on your mouth, eyes crinkling in amusement at the fiery glare rin shoots him.

your son moves in, placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering cheekily, "you should make dad sleep on the couch tonight."

rin calls his name, muttering what you're sure to be curses under his breath, and you watch as your son moves towards him. only to completely disregard the hand rin has outstretched in favor of sae's.

sae nods his head towards you, one you copy before waving when he takes your son into his car for a weekend away.

"finally alone," your husband mutters, his tone deep and gruff. you can see the tension melt away from his shoulders when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to his frame. "i can't believe you gave birth to a little devil."

rin has always been touchy. it's a fact he's proven time and time again, ranging from your first date until this very moment of when he glides his hand through your hair, playfully tugging at your strands.

"you look beautiful," he mumbles, moving to nuzzle his face into your neck. he trails kisses down the column of your neck, and you sigh, having already experienced the sensation, albeit, a more innocent version, only minutes ago. "ready to leave?"

"hm? who are you and what have you done to my husband?" you chuckle, giggling when he retaliates to your words by nipping on your skin. you move your hand, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "i'm kidding. you know i love it when you're all clingy and kissy."

he places one final kiss on your neck before pulling away, his eyes taking you in. "stunning," the words leave his lips as a breathy whisper, and you smile at the hazed look in his eyes.

he looks breathtakingly handsome with his hair gelled back and his undershirt wrapped tightly around his frame. you help him pull on his tuxedo, neatly pressed by your own hands only a few hours earlier, as he recounts his day out with your son.

and finally, you watch, amused when he takes off your ring and his, setting them both on your vanity drawer.

"shall we?" the words are muffled against your ring finger, the limb feeling oddly bare. rin kisses every single one of your knuckles before pressing one final kiss to your palm, his lips warm and soft.

"we shall."

he intertwines your fingers, tugging you out of your home and into his car, ready to take sweep you off your feet, just like he once did all those years ago when he made you his.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin imagines #rin x reader #rin imagines #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x you #rin fluff

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deakyjoe · 11 months

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Every Breath You Take

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader (afab but no pronouns used I don’t think)

Category: stalker romance (??), smut (!!)

Summary: It shouldn’t exhilarate you so much knowing a serial killer was stalking you. But you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal fingering, dry humping, biting, licking, creampie, overstimulation, motorboating, pain as pleasure, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, scent kink, multiple orgasms, nipple play, over the clothes handjob, under the clothes handjob, slight dubcon (only because Michael doesn’t talk but I tried to make it as clear as possible that they just want to fuck each other), stalking, mentions of injuries and blood, mentions of murder, breaking and entering, morally questionable reader, mask is on and off, lights stay off during sex, virgin Michael, a little dark I guess (??)

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: For those who love masked men (aka me). For those who want to fuck slashers (aka me). For those who love the quiet type (aka me). For those who love a tall man (aka me). For those who love a strong man (aka me). I wrote this for me basically. I don’t think there’s much of an audience for Michael Myers fics within my followers but hopefully it reaches the right side of Tumblr :)

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It was probably disgusting how much it excited you knowing he watched you every day.

He'd stand in your back yard each night, totally still, and just look through your windows for hours. And then, when he was satisfied you assumed, he'd leave. But he always came right back the next day at the same time.

When you'd first noticed him, you'd been terrified. Naturally. You knew exactly who he was, you watched the news and heard stories. And the white mask and blue coveralls were unmistakable. You'd seen him through your window and locked all of the doors immediately. Then you waited. Patiently.

You didn't know what you were waiting for. Him to kill you... or to defend yourself. Your chances of survival were slim, he was inhumanly strong from what you'd heard. But you clutched a knife in your hand nonetheless, mirroring him in a strange way, in case you did suddenly have to fight him off.

Luckily, it never came down to that dilemma as he left a couple of hours later without even a step closer to your back door. You blinked and he was gone.

He came back the next night and did the same thing. And then the next night. And the next. And the next. Until it became a ritual.

You went about your evening and he watched. You always wondered whether he watched you during the day as well but you'd never noticed him. You also wondered what it was about you that didn't make him murder you straight away.

You were older than his usual victims, sure. And he supposedly liked to commit most of his crimes whilst his victims were in the middle of sexual acts and you didn't tend to have many visitors over. But then what was making him fixate on you?

You just couldn't figure it out.

It got to a point where you were less scared of him and more intrigued. Having him stand and stare was getting boring, you wanted to know why. No. You craved knowing why. But you couldn't ask him. You'd heard he wasn't fond of talking.

So what were you supposed to do? Just let it carry on? That was your only choice.

But things changed one evening.

When he appeared something didn't seem quite right. For one, he was seven minutes later than usual. And his left shoulder slumped forward with all of his weight placed onto his right leg.

He was injured.

And you couldn't help but feel bad for him.

So, like an insane person, you unlocked your door and opened it for him.

As you stood in the doorway staring at him, you noticed him straighten up. As if he were surprised. But you knew the man didn't show emotions, much less any that would display him being caught off guard in any way. So you put it down as your imagination or a trick of the moonlight.

But you left your door open. An invitation. Like he needed one of those.

He didn't move so you left the doorway and went to retrieve your first aid kit from the cabinet above the sink. And by the time you'd found it and turned back around, Michael Myers was standing about a foot into your kitchen.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of the emotions turning in your stomach. "Close the door. It's cold outside."

You really didn't know if you could afford to be giving him orders but considering he hadn't murdered you in the months he'd been watching you, you thought that you were probably safe until you'd at least bandaged up whatever wounds hid beneath the blue jumpsuit.

Not sticking around to see if he did it, you walked to your lounge and put a lamp on. His footsteps were silent so you kept an eye on the archway where he'd emerge from the kitchen. Which he did a few seconds later.

"Sit on the couch."

Surprisingly, he did as he was told. But you thought you might be pushing your luck so you stopped telling him to do things.

As he sat down, not relaxed in the slightest with the best posture you'd ever seen, you realised that getting a wounded man to sit on your nice furniture was probably a bad idea. What if he got blood everywhere? Too late now. You weren't going to ask him to move.

You moved towards him slowly, trying not to spook him. He still had a knife clutched in his hand after all. It was bloodstained. You ignored it.

Michael watched you closely, his head didn't move but you could feel his gaze through the dark eyeholes of the mask. It didn't escape your notice that he was still extremely tall even when sat down.

"What's hurt?"

It was a stupid question, you could see where blood was seeping through his clothes and the slashes in the fabric was clear. But given your very recent history of poor choices, an obvious question seemed like the least of your worries.

He didn't respond anyway. No finger point, no head tilt, no shrug. Not a single inch of his body moved apart from his chest from his breathing. If you couldn't see his inhales and exhales then you'd think he was some sort of dummy or mannequin.

"Have you got a shirt on underneath the jumpsuit?"

Why were you still asking questions?

He still said nothing, which you expected, but he did raise a hand to pop the first couple buttons open to reveal a grey t-shirt under the blue coveralls.

You sighed and nodded. "Um, you're going to need to- to undo a few more buttons. So I can get to your shoulder."

The blood stain was getting bigger and staining his clothes a deep purple.

He tilted his head to the side at you, the most emotion he'd shown so far. But he did as he was told again and then pushed the suit down his arms so it lowered to his waist. You didn't fail to notice how the grey t-shirt clung to him nicely, maybe a size or two too small, and displayed every inch of rippling muscle that covered him. Explained his inhuman strength.

You took a few supplies from the kit and started cleaning up the injury on his shoulder, careful to avoid staring at how his sleeve stretched against his bicep.

When you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye, you cleared your throat and pulled away again to distract yourself with looking for other injuries. Which was a fine idea until you realised that blood was dripping from beneath the rubber that adorned his face.

You went to lift the edge of the mask, no intention of taking it off, but his large hands gripped your wrists before you even had the chance. The knife was suddenly forgotten on the cushion of the couch.

You gasped in pain, his hold was tight, but didn't pull away. Trying your hardest to meet his eyes as best you could, you attempted to explain. "I'm not going to take it off but I need to get to your neck. You're bleeding. Lift the mask to your chin and hold it there so I can clean your neck."

There were a few tense moments of heavy breathing from him before he let go and did as you said. He was too agreeable, very out of character from all of the stories you'd heard about him. Were people wrong? Or was he acting differently than usual? How were you supposed to know?

You shook the thoughts from your head and got on with cleaning him up. You couldn't find the source of the blood so assumed it must've been coming from higher up on his face. But you weren't going to ask him to lift the mask anymore. You were a risk taker, if the night was any indication of that, but you didn't have a death wish. Mostly.

"Done." You mumbled and stepped back a few paces, looking down to clean away all of your supplies.

By the time you looked up he was standing again fully clothed.

"You going to kill me now finally?" There was a hint of laughter in your voice. If he did you wouldn't blame him. You probably deserved it after inviting a serial killer into your home and treating him like his own personal nurse.

He didn't respond, just turned and left the room. And by the time you got to the kitchen to follow him out, he was gone and the back door was shut and locked like he'd never even been there.

"See you tomorrow night then." You grumbled to yourself, assuming he'd return as he usually did.

And he did.

Uninjured this time. To your relief and, honestly, slight disappointment. There was really something very wrong with you.

But the routine returned to normal. Michael Myers would appear in your back yard every night at the same time and watch you for hours with no sign of even attempting to enter your house to murder you. And he'd leave when he was done watching whatever he sought out from you.

The initial thrill you'd had knowing he liked watching you had disappeared quickly after you'd realised there was less danger than you'd expected. And the fact that you could get so much closer to him was more exciting than anything else.

The idea of him being inside your house again played on your mind constantly, rolling around in there as regularly as a forbidden fantasy. And maybe it was. But surely you weren't fantasising about Michael Myers... right?

Perhaps the memory of his muscles and his height, just his sheer size even, plagued your brain way more often than was considered normal. The thought that he could probably just snap you in two with his large hands and impossible strength if he chose to, how easy it would be for him to break in and end your life on his will. But he chose not to.

That set your nerves alight.

So you turned your nights into a staring contest.

He'd stand in your back yard and stare into your window. You'd stand in your kitchen and stare out of your window.

And you slowly got more daring. You began to retire to bed earlier, going upstairs to your bedroom and changing right in his direct view. It was one of the few times he moved, tilting his head up slightly to see you better through the mask.

You didn't give him a full show, knowing it probably wasn't what he wanted. He liked to kill "promiscuous" people after all. But it was enough to give him an idea, a way to tease him. It was entertaining for you at least, even if he wasn't bothered.

But then one night when you noticed that he was a few feet closer to your house, you realised it was probably working.

He was tempted.

Whether it was to kill you or to do something else, you weren't sure. But you were exhilarated either way.

When he returned obviously injured again a few nights later, you sighed to yourself in annoyance. Yes, you were excited he'd be in your house again. But out of need, not want. You still unlocked your door and left it open for him as you waited in the lounge nevertheless.

When he emerged from the dark archway between your kitchen and your lounge, you looked him up and down. His stance was better than last time but he was covered in more blood. You deduced that it probably wasn't his.

"Sit." You whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Like manners were going to affect whether he killed you or not.

It went pretty much the same as the time before, cleaning the blood from him as best you could and bandaging up what was easy to access. He didn't flinch or wince, not even at the stuff that made your toes curl just from touching.

It wasn't until you were just finishing off spreading some antibacterial lotion on a gash on his thigh that you noticed he was breathing heavier than usual. You looked up at him and frowned, confused. But when he gave you no indication as to why he was suddenly almost hyperventilating, you shrugged it off and reached for a band-aid. As you glanced towards the wound to get an idea of the size you'd need for it, you realised what was wrong.

"Oh."

He was hard.

"Oh."

The prominent bulge in his crotch wasn't shy in showing you that it was there. He was big, to say at the very least.

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times before you settled on a reassurance. "It's okay. This happens. Especially when someone is touching you a lot."

You figured this was the most he'd been touched in over a decade.

"I'll just uh..." You stood up to step away from him but he launched his arm forward to grab you by the wrist, not letting you go any further.

"Michael..."

He answered you by tugging your body into his lap, legs straddling either side of his thighs. You made sure not to settle your weight onto him, very conscious of what that could lead to.

But he had other ideas.

He planted both of his large hands on either side of your waist and pushed you to sit fully against him. And there was a lot to sit against.

You bit your tongue to prevent any noise coming out. What now? What did he expect?

His breathing was shaky as he surveyed you through the small eyeholes of his mask, hands hovering over your sides for a second.

You couldn't deny that this position, this close proximity, was turning you on. Especially feeling how hard he was pushed up against you.

He seemed to decide what he wanted to do next as his fists gripped the fabric of your pyjama shirt, suddenly tearing it open so buttons flew everywhere and then ripping it off of you and tossing it to a darkened corner of the room. His hands didn't hesitate it exploring the new uncovered areas of skin, his rough callouses against your soft flesh. He was clearly enjoying this new adventure as he appeared to grow impossibly harder beneath you. Lots of him was impossible.

The clasp he had on your breasts was almost painful but your eyes rolled back in pleasure nevertheless. You liked that he was manhandling you, the strength you'd been fantasising about since day one finally being used on you.

His hands slid down your sides until they met your hips, fingers digging in and pulling them against his. A choked moan escaped your mouth drowning out the sound of his own grunt. When Michael decided that he seemed to like that, he did it again. Rougher this time. And quicker. Then he set a pace doing it over and over again. Your hands flew to his shoulders to give yourself something to hold onto, some grounding. Because this was more than you could handle.

How could something so simple feel so good?

The feeling of his coveralls rubbing against you through the thin material of your sleep shorts was heavenly. That, mixed with his hardness pushing against you in all the right place meant you were in pure ecstasy.

The uncontrollable noises leaving you would've been embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that this was the best you'd ever felt. And you hadn't even had sex. Yet.

Barely a sound left Michael, just the occasional short groan to go along with his heavy breathing.

You couldn't quite tell where he was looking until his head suddenly snapped down and his eyes clearly fixated on where your breasts were bouncing with the rapid movement of the two of you rocking against each other. A slightly louder noise left him then.

There was no rest for you, even if your legs did grow tired and you ran out of breath because he wouldn't let you stop moving. You knew you were probably creating a wet patch on his clothes and that would only grow bigger when he finally came. You were surprised he was lasting this long to be honest. For someone who had been locked up most of his life and hadn't had any sexual experience, he had some stamina in him. But maybe he wasn't a virgin. Was your assumption wrong?

You didn't get time to dwell on it as his arm suddenly locked around your waist and he stopped the two of you. Looking down at him, he was almost the perfect picture of composure. Just some heavy breathing indicated what the two of you had been up to. You couldn't imagine you looked quite as calm.

The arm around you stiffened as he titled the two of you to the side.

"What are you doi- woah." The room was plunged into darkness as he switched the lamp off and then pulled you tight against him again. "Why did you- oh."

Your unfinished question was answered with the sound of rubber hitting the floor penetrating your ears and the feeling of Michael's breath against your skin. You didn't get the chance to question him further as to why he did that as he immediately buried his face in the valley of your breasts and rocked your hips against his to get the friction going again, his free hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the two of you moved.

You bit your bottom lip, extremely happy that he hadn't decided to just stop and leave, that this was still going. The happiness only extended when he licked a drop of sweat off of your skin and you almost screamed. But you couldn't imagine if was the kind of screaming he was used to so you bit your tongue.

Trying to adjust to the sudden absence of light by blinking, but having little success, you looked down to where you imagined Michael's head would be. You saw nothing. Naturally, the only solution to that was to move your hands up his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. As you curled your fingers into the locks, you were pleasantly surprised to find how soft it was.

You would've smiled or giggled to yourself if he hadn't chosen that exact moment to bite into your collarbone and thrust up underneath you. Your response of tugging on his hair seemed to go down well as he did it again.

"Fuck." You whined against the top of his head, eyes scrunching shut.

That caught Michael's attention, his head pulling back and his free hand abandoning your thigh to wrap around the front of your neck, squeezing slightly when situated there.

You knew what he was doing. Mixing what he usually found pleasurable with this new experience. You wondered whether it was getting him off even more. If the way he was practically throbbing beneath you was any indication, then yes.

This added element of danger sent a shiver down your spine and an intense pulse to your core, making you rock against him without any prompting from him at all. You could still breathe but you knew he could stop that at any second if he chose to.

A breathless moan rumbled from the back of your throat as he squeezed your neck tighter, the arm locked around your waist pushing you against him even harder.

You were so close. So, so close. You chased your high like it was running away from you, rubbing yourself against him as roughly as you could. But there was no need.

Because when Michael leaned forward again to lick a long strip up from your left breast to your neck and then bit you, hard, it was like you saw the pearly gates of heaven. Or the fiery descent to hell.

Your orgasm crashed over you in hot waves as you collapsed against him, forcing his body to hit the back of the couch as your forehead met his and you gasped into his mouth, lips almost grazing but not quite meeting. Your grasp on his hair was tight, tugging on the roots like they were your lifeline. Your naked chest pressed against his clothed one, and that combined with the slight pain of the hair pulling was enough for Michael to come underneath you.

You could feel him twitching against you, only making you shudder against him more, as the wet patch on his jumpsuit grew as you predicted. The quietest extended groan left his mouth as he tensed beneath you, arms locking around you. His hips bucked up against yours a few times weakly before he grew limp.

You rested for a moment, trying to gain some strength back in your shaking legs, before you pushed off of him and stood up. Feeling around in the air for the lamp, you covered your eyes before switching it back on.

"Find your mask and put it back on." You instructed, waiting a moment for him to do so.

He didn't make any noise as he moved, as usual, and the only indication you had that he was done was the looming feeling of his presence in front of you and the sound of his exhales rattling the rubber that adorned him.

You uncovered your eyes and squinted against the sudden light, looking up to find Michael almost chest to chest with you. Well, head to chest. He was very tall after all.

Your gaze flickered down to his left hand which was slightly extended towards you. He was holding your pyjama shirt. The one he'd ruined by ripping all of the buttons off.

"Oh, thanks." You took it from him and put it back on, holding it together at the front by crossing your arms against your chest.

Probably a bad idea considering this position made the top gape open and your breasts push together to create an exaggerated cleavage. Michael didn't seem to mind as he lifted his right hand and traced a finger across the swell of your breasts for a moment before dropping his arm back to his side again.

You dropped your eyes away in embarrassment, and slight arousal, and noticed the mess the two of you had made on his blue jumpsuit.

"You're gonna want to wash that." You said, meekly gesturing towards it. You couldn't deny that seeing the stains that you'd made together was making your skin feel hot again.

He didn't even look to see what you were talking about, just continued to stare at you through his mask.

You tried to come up with something to say but nothing sprung to mind. What were you supposed to say to a serial killer that you'd just dry humped and orgasmed on top of?

It seemed like you didn't need to come up with a one-sided conversation starter though as he suddenly turned on his heel and left the room. You hesitated before following him. Stupid really since you couldn't even keep up with him at the best of times, especially not now on weak legs.

And, as usual, by the time you'd reached the kitchen he was gone and the door was locked.

He continued to return every night as normal but didn't enter your house again. No injuries seemed to be inflicted upon him for a while. You were beginning to get bored. Sighing every time he left with no hint of coming inside again.

Which is why a few days later you were very shocked by his out of character behaviour.

You woke up cold, your blankets stripped from your bed and the feeling of someone watching you sinking a chilling freeze into your bones. It was soon clear why you felt that way.

His silhouette was partially outlined by the moonlight coming through your bedroom window as he stood over you.

You shot up in bed, giving yourself a head rush. "Michael, what the fu-" You were cut off as he grasped the hand that was reaching for your bedside lamp. "No light? Why?"

He answered your question by pressing something rubber into your palm. His mask.

"Oh. Okay..." You frowned to yourself as you dropped the mask on your nightstand. What was he expecting you to do if he was injured but you couldn't see him? "I can't clean your wounds if it's dark."

It was too dark to see his face but the natural light from outside was enough to see him shake his head no. He wasn't injured. What did he need then?

"Then what? Why are you here? At this time?" You were still slightly dazed from just waking up, trying to shake some coherent thought into your head. What was the time? He'd already been and gone earlier that evening. How had he gotten in? You were sure you'd locked the door? Maybe that made no difference?

His breathing was heavy, shoulders moving up and down with his laboured inhales and exhales.

His grip on your wrist hadn't loosened as he pulled your hand towards him, resting it on his abdomen and then slowly dragging down and down and-

"Oh."

He was hard.

Very hard.

"You want me to-"

You'd guessed by this point that he probably hated hearing you talk as he was always cutting you off. This time by pushing on your shoulders so you fell flat on your back and bounced on the mattress. And then he was on top of you in mere fractions of a second.

He was smothering.

His mere presence was enough to stop your breath in your throat and having him be this close, having all of his weight pressed against you this way, practically stole the oxygen from your bloodstream.

His breath was hot on your face, his nose barely grazing against yours before he moved to trace it along your hairline and then down your neck where he inhaled deeply, groaning lowly at your scent.

You reached up to touch him but he was too fast, clasping both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

"This doesn't work if I can't touch you." You mumbled frustratedly, more to yourself than to him.

It wasn't strictly true but what did he know? Last time he hadn't used any real technique, just done whatever felt best for him which luckily also felt good for you. He'd used the mere skill brought to him by innate exploration. Maybe this time he'd be more purposeful with you.

Unlikely.

The statement you'd made seemed to have some sort of influence on him though as he slowly let go of your wrists and let you dig one into his hair, where you gently pulled on it, and let the other drift to undo the top buttons of his coveralls. You popped them open cautiously, one by one, until your nails stroked the material of his grey undershirt. You assumed it was grey as usual.

Your fingers wandered to the neckline where you swooped the index to get a feel of his skin. He froze above you but didn't stop you.

"I'm going to undo more. Just stop me if you want. But gently." You clarified, not wanting bruised wrists in the morning which was guaranteed if he grabbed them with his vice-like grip again.

Each button fell open easily, like they were dying to be free from their clasps, and Michael didn't stop you once. And when the last one was undone, he leant back slightly on his knees to let you push the jumpsuit down so it bunched around his waist just like the first time he'd been in your house.

You took the opportunity to let your hands roam the muscles you'd been admiring since the first time you'd seen him up close. They were solid. He was solid.

He crowded over you again, breathing getting more rapid the more you touched him. He let out a soft sound when your hands reached his crotch, palming him over his clothes.

"Take them off and I can touch you more." You offered, attempting to sound sultry but sure you just sounded desperate instead.

He hesitated but did as you said, standing up to push the jumpsuit further down his legs but still not taking it off completely. Then he was on top of you again, pushing your hand against him before you even had the chance to realise he was so close again. You squeezed him through his underwear and he bucked his hips against your palm.

You did that for a while, moving your hand up and down the outline of him through the material and ignoring the ache between your own legs. Getting him riled up was a lot of fun, especially when he let noises slip every now and again. You just wished you could see the reactions on his face. Did he bite his lip? Did he screw his eyes shut? Was his jaw dropped open? You guessed you'd never know.

While those thoughts plagued your mind, it seemed Michael had changed his. And what was happening wasn't good enough for him anymore. So he slapped your hand away suddenly. Before you could even begin to utter a sentence, he ripped your pyjama shirt open.

Great, another one ruined.

His hands shot to your chest, away from where they'd been resting either side of your head previously, and he started to knead the flesh. Your back arched, pushing your chest closer to his and making your nipples rub against the fabric of his t-shirt. Michael must've figured out that the stimulation was good based on the gasp you let out as he moved his attention to your nipples, flicking and tweaking them with his fingers.

He didn't seem hesitant at all in what he was doing but it was also clear he wasn't experienced either. There was no rhythm to his touches, he just did whatever felt right. And that worked for you.

You grew extremely wet when he started grinding himself against your core from instinct alone. You wanted more, craved more, needed more.

Your hands flew to the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down a few inches to pull him free. You knew he was big but having the real thing in your hand, no clothing barriers at all, was a whole other story.

You could hear his teeth clicking shut when you started to stroke him, skin on skin, spreading his pre-cum up and down his length.

"Fuck, Michael. Jesus." You garbled, head wild with lust and nothing else. "Need you inside me."

He stopped moving at that, hands falling away from your chest and hips no longer bucking to pump himself into your palm.

Maybe he really was clueless.

"You know? Inside me?" You reached around to find one of his hands, pushing it down the waistband of your sleep shorts until his fingers met your wetness.

He wasn't even doing anything but the sensation alone of him touching you made you shiver. That was until he seemed to understand what he was feeling. His head tilted to the side, just about visible in the moonlight, as he let his fingers explore. As he grazed your clit, you squeaked quietly. He seemed to like that so he did it a couple more times, just to illicit a reaction out of you. But he got bored quickly and kept on feeling.

When he reached the source of the wetness, he pushed a finger in. You moaned. Loudly. He liked that a lot more, so pulled out the finger and reinserted with a second one joining in. Your eyes rolled back at this. And the sounds you made reached a new decibel. Michael did the same thing again and again, pumping his fingers just to feel you clench around him.

When he eventually pulled his fingers free, you whined in protest before the sounds of him sucking the taste of you off of his skin hit you. And you decided that maybe the loss of contact was okay if that's what he was going to do instead.

When he was satisfied with that, Michael tore your shorts off of you completely and tossed them over his shoulder somewhere. Then his underwear was pushed further down and he was spreading your legs apart, as far as they would go.

Your heart rate picked up further than it was already running, probably entering dangerous territory. But you didn't care. It was finally about to happen.

Michael crawled over you, shadowed face hanging above yours. You just nodded at him, wondering whether he was able to see you do it. Either way, he seemed to get the message that you really really wanted to do this. So, with a hand on one of your thighs to hold you in place, and the other on his cock to guide him, he pushed into you.

At that moment you decided that you were definitely seeing the devil in the afterlife.

But it was worth it for this.

He stretched you open perfectly, gliding in with ease considering how wet you already were. But that was nothing in comparison to how you felt hearing him letting out what could only be described as a mixture between a whimper and a pleasured groan against your ear.

If never hearing him talk meant that the noises he let out during sex made you tingle, then you'd take his silence any day.

The hand on your thigh moved to curl your leg around his waist, changing the angle so he moved into you deeper. And the other rested against your head to keep him propped up. Yours scraped down his back in ecstasy, probably leaving nail marks along the plains of his skin. You were sure he wouldn't mind, he'd had worse injuries.

He stayed still once he'd entered you, stiff but breathing heavily.

"Move, Michael." You whispered. "Please move."

And when he pulled out and slammed back in again, you were positive you could see the grim reaper knocking at your door ready to whisk you away to the tortuous pits of hell.

All you knew is that you certainly weren't seeing heaven after this.

Michael grunted, head hanging so his soft hair tickled against your skin. But he seemed to get the idea as he pumped in and out of you at a ruthless pace. Skin slapped together, your chests rubbing against one another as you bounced up and down the surface of the bed, which shuffled along the floor with every thrust.

You'd never known sex to be so loud. Maybe you'd just never had sex as good as this. Because the roaring of blood in your ears definitely wasn't helping.

You couldn't help the sounds that were escaping your parted lips, thankful that your neighbours' houses weren't close enough to hear you. Your other leg moved to wrap around Michael's waist, tugging him closer to you and locking him in place. You need him to be as close as possible, to be as deep inside you as possible.

The hand on your thigh dug in deep, certainly leaving bruises, before trailing up the length of your body and wrapping around the front of your neck. He pushed down this time, squeezing slightly to cut off your airway just a little. It excited you more than anything and made you clench around him.

That seemed unexpected to Michael as he faltered slightly before pounding into you harder than before, having absolutely no mercy on your body. You only clenched harder.

His pattern began to fumble, thrusts become more forceful but less regular. He was getting close. And you weren't far off either. You let one of your hands fall from his back and placed it between the two of you, starting to rub your clit. He took notice of this and pushed your hand away to replace it with his own, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs again.

The head rush combined with the pressure on your clit tipped you over the edge into oblivion. You choked out a muffled scream as your orgasm ripped through your body, tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

But Michael didn't let up for a second. This just seemed to give him a new wave of energy as his pace picked up rubbing tight circles on your clit and slamming into you with no forgiveness.

You approached the edge rapidly again, the raw feeling over overstimulation pushing you closer and closer. His sweat dripped onto you, creating a sheen that let your bodies slide against each other in erotic heat. You could feel every inch of him either against you or inside of you. And that thought made you come again. This time the scream was less muffled.

The feeling of you clenching around him again like a vice had Michael finally hitting his peak too, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. If you weren't so spent already, that would've made for three orgasms.

He bit down on the skin of your shoulder to prevent any noises coming out too loud, but he couldn't mask all of them. He twitched inside of you as he gave a few last lazy bucks of his hips before he pulled out completely, standing up and looking down at you.

You really wondered how good his vision must be in this light for him to be able to see you. Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was faking it.

Either way you didn't care, too exhausted suddenly to really think about it. You began to drift to sleep, desperately trying to keep your eyes open to see what he'd do next. You vaguely remembered seeing him get dressed again. But you don't remember him leaving. Or moving you to rest your head back on your pillow. Or him pulling your blankets over you again.

Maybe he didn't do any of that. Maybe you did in your sleepy state.

It didn't matter. He was still gone before you even had the chance to register what happened.

But you were pleased when the next night, you glanced out of your kitchen window and found him stood there as usual, watching you. From now on, you were just going to leave your door unlocked to make it easier for him.

A/N: To celebrate my Halloween, I watched Halloween (1978) home alone whilst my housemates all went to a party. It inspired me to write this.

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #halloween #halloween 1978 #slashers #slasher #michael myers fic #michael myers fanfiction #michael myers smut #slasher fic #slasher x reading #slasher x you #ej’s fics #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months

Note

Hear me out

Malleus and Leona (separated) with a reader (either male or gender neutral) that is similar to the black cat from Coraline, a bit cocky, shows up and dissappear out of nowhere and isn't neither good or bad is just watching everything fall in chaos

Bonus if with Malleus them being just a lap cat that dissappear out of nowhere

Black Cat Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You just can! Or you just won’t. The boys are torn on whether you’re bad luck or the greatest thing that’s ever happened. You’ll easily stroll into their daily lives before leaving inexplicably. Even Rook tends to lose your trail. The boys are left with an age old question to try and capture and contain a wonder or do you stay admiring from afar:

Leona Kingscholar

“You know you could stay for more than the egyptian sheets.”

“Oh you wish I would but I have a plethora…of things to do.”

“So cryptic. One day I might roll on top of you and you won’t be able to leave.”

“Then I’ll have to give you a scar or two.”

“I wouldn’t hate that.”

Both of you find a kinship because of your cat-ness

Letting each other chuff and purr as you both nap together

Of course he won’t mind if you start licking at his air in cat-form

Or how he’ll do the same for you

You’re already apart of his pride

Apart of his family

His partner

He has no plans to relieve you of this role

No matter how many times you disappear

Or avoid any kind of schedule

He doesn’t mind where you go as long as you come to him

Malleus Draconia

“Won’t you grace me with your presence, today?”

“Only if you have the one thing I want.”

“Fish fresh from the market.”

“That…will do.”

Few will admit it but he’s begun to have a fishy scent

Always keeping a can of tuna to entertain your attention

Sure if your in a cat form you might rub along his ankle

But you never stay and that kills him

You’re far too uncontainable

A force of nature he tries his best to keep close

As long as your interactions are decent he won’t be inciting a maelstrom

But should you hiss or reject his affections in any way he’s throwing a tantrum

Not because he’s mad at you but because he just can’t seem to have you

No worries though

Whatever magic you have it surely can’t be stronger than his

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere leona

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kingkatsuki · 5 months

Text

One day Bakugou will tell you how he feels about you, but today is not that day.

No but really, why do girls always type the most filth with the straightest faces while the guy on the other end is probably losing his shit😭😂

“Why do you even bother with this shit?”

You don’t even attempt to shield your phone, it’s nothing that your boss hasn’t seen a million times before. Your face is bored as you swipe through the options, leaning against your desk with your coat and bag on ready to leave the agency for the day as you wait for Bakugou.

To most it was probably peculiar for you to be leaving at the same time as the number two hero, but it had become almost a tradition for you to both grab gyoza at the small ramen bar down the street each Thursday after work. It was a place that Bakugou had found by chance one evening when he stopped a petty villain stealing the cash register off-duty. An act that wasn’t forgotten by the kind owner who offered him free gyoza for life— but he’d always leave his money on the table. The food was good, and the atmosphere quiet, just how he liked it. And you had too the first time he’d invited you after your train home was cancelled.

It almost felt like an unlabelled date night, the two of you laughing over gyoza and asahi away from the stress of the outside world for an hour before he’d walk you to the station and wait for your train before making his way to his platform. A slew of food photos and selfies saved in your phone that could indicate a blossoming relationship if they were posted on your socials, and not saved in your camera roll. And perhaps it could be a date— if Bakugou would ever admit his feelings for you.

“Look at what he said to me the other day,” Your fingers scroll up on your phone screen and Bakugou takes the opportunity to look at the way the light shines off your cheeks, feeling that familiar warmth begin to burn like it always does when he thinks of you, “It was so embarrassing.”

Bakugou squints at the screen, trying to read the text without his glasses as his face swiftly contorts to disgust. He doesn’t need to read the whole message to know the guy is an absolute fucking douchebag—

“He wants to what?!” Bakugou’s blush tickles the tips of his ears as he pulls back to make eye contact with you, “How would you even get in that position?”

“You’d be surprised—” You laugh, light and airy, and it has Bakugou leaning against the side of your desk to stop himself from tumbling forward.

“I refuse to believe that works on anyone.” He snorts as he shrugs his own coat on, switching the light off as you both walk towards the elevator.

“Call it the best of a bad bunch,” You laugh, stepping into the lift as you show him the screen again. This time it’s a conversation that has his throat dry as he immediately focuses on your messages. Just the right amount of innocence piled high with implication as he thought about you texting him like that.

“Guy sounds like a fuckin’ loser,” Bakugou plays it off, jabbing the ground floor button with a little more aggression than necessary as the doors close behind you.

“He seems okay,” You mumble, “He works at Deku’s agency.”

“Definitely a loser then.” He sneers.

“Stop.” You grin at him, and Bakugou has to stop his heart from leaping from his chest from how hard and fast it beats.

“What rank is he?” Bakugou scrunches his nose. He better be at least top twenty before he even thinks about having a chance with someone as perfect as you, and even then that wouldn’t be enough.

“He’s still a sidekick, actually.” You laugh, “I got enough Pro-Hero stress dealing with you.”

“Ya better not be thinking about jumping ship.”

“You know I’d never.” You reply truthfully, “I’m a Dynamight girl til I die.”

Bakugou’s cheeks flushed pink at your admission, heart swelled with pride as he let your words stroke his ego.

“Yeah, ya better be.” Bakugou watched in amusement as you kept a straight face as you texted him back, wondering whether you were keeping the conversation sweet or suggestive. Would you look the same if you were texting him like this? Bored and uninterested as you spewed word after word of crass dialogue. He hoped you’d enjoy it like he would, sending flirty messages that would have him grinning at the screen.

“You’re replying to him wantin’ to eat you out with a straight face.”

“Yeah,” You scoffed, “The best of a bad bunch, I guess. At least he hasn’t asked for any nudes yet.”

Bakugou scrunched his nose in irritation at the thought of anyone getting to see that. The selfish part of him wishing that he could be the one that you’d send those photographs to. Posing in the prettiest mesh and lace as you posed for the camera, or maybe sending him a video of you strewn back against tousled sheets. Fingers buried inside your wet, warm heat as you cried out his name.

“You’re textin’ the wrong people,” He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, “You deserve better.”

“Where am I gonna find better?” You smile over your phone screen towards him, “Especially in this city.”

“I think you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Wherever I look I just find the same stupid guys.” You sigh, shoving your phone away as you walk towards the exit, giving a smile and wave to the evening security guard as Bakugou nods his head.

Holding the glass door open for you to walk through first, “Yeah, we suck.”

#Bakugou x reader #soft bakugou

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changbunnies · 4 months

Text

Slow Bloom (18+)

♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Changbin x Experienced Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot <3 a tiny bit of angst during the build up but it doesn't last long at all!

♡ Word Count: 8.5k

♡ Summary: In which a misunderstanding while cuddling leads to discovering exactly how Changbin feels about you.

♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but i may have written bin a bit subby lol oops, references to porn watching, kinda pervy bin?, his lack of experience is not outright stated to the reader as it is implied that they already know, nipple play, thigh grinding / humping, fingering (f rec), protected piv

♡ Notes: so quite a few ppl showed interest in an inexperienced binnie fic after i posted my inexperienced chan fic and i am here to deliver <3 this was also the perfect break from the longer, more plot heavy fics i've been working on as this took a lot less mental effort :') i hope you enjoy this while waiting for those!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There aren't many things in life that make Changbin nervous.

He navigates the world with security and confidence, sure of himself and in the actions he takes. He can speak in tense or awkward situations with relative ease, nerves never eat him up in social settings, and he's never afraid to speak his mind or do what he wishes to.

But then there's you. You, while laying in bed next to him with an arm draped over his body and one of your legs tucked between his, make him extremely, effortlessly nervous.

It wasn't always this way; at least, not as far as he can remember. You've been friends since forever, and closeness such as this is par for the course. He's used to impromptu sleepovers, to you making yourself comfy in his space, tossing your belongings to the floor without a care before you take over his bed.

He's used to cuddling while watching tv, to squeezing each other into tight hugs, to limbs tangled under blankets. He's used to the lingering smell of your shampoo mixed with perfume, used to the feeling of your breath tickling his skin when you pull him close, to the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips.

He's used to it, and it doesn't affect him; or so he thought.

Somewhere along the line, something within him shifted. Whether the reason lies with you or with himself, he doesn't entirely know. What he does know is that he no longer sees you the same way he did when you were growing up together. And it wasn't until that shift occurred that he realized maybe "your friend" isn't the only thing he wants to be.

Maybe it's a natural, gradual progression from where you both began, a shift in desire brought on by new maturity and life experience. Maybe you've been this radiant and beautiful since the very first day you met, but he was too young and oblivious to realize it then.

Maybe it's because of that strange, sharp and twisting feeling in his gut every time he sees you with a new partner. If it wasn't for you showing interest in other people, would he have ever realized at all that what he feels for you transcends what he feels in his other friendships?

While he loves his other friends, he doesn't get jealous when they bring a new partner around, or talk about their love life to him. He doesn't spend every night lying awake thinking about them, nor does he wonder what it'd be like to kiss them. He doesn't dream about seeing their bare skin, or about touching them, about them touching him.

He doesn't imagine their tongue lavishing over him, or of returning the favor to them. He doesn't fantasize about them in dirty, naughty scenarios, during his private moments in bed or in the shower. You occupy his every thought, to the point that even while watching porn he has to close his eyes and imagine it's you making those sounds instead, replacing the scene before him with a mental image of you and him together.

That's what makes Changbin especially nervous right now. You're cuddled up to him, as you always are when you spend the night at his place, but he can't get his brain to please shut the fuck up and stop pushing him to the brink of embarrassing himself.

He needs to stop thinking about the placement of your hand on his stomach, just above his waistband. He can't linger on the fact that your tits are pressed against him while you hug him, or about how pleasant the soft, content sighs that leave you sound to his ears.

If he thinks about any of it, he'll get hard– and that'll easily be the most mortifying moment of his life, because you would definitely notice with the way your leg is snaked between his and resting between his thighs. It's moments like this when he misses the days of innocence– when cuddling with you like this didn't feel quite so intimate.

He makes a conscious effort to focus harder on the tv in front of you both, playing some sitcom he has long since stopped paying attention to. He guesses the jokes are landing if your occasional giggles are any sign, but if you asked his opinion on anything going on he wouldn't be able to answer. Changbin has never been the type of person who was easily able to divide his attention, but God, does he fucking try.

Because if you realize he's getting hard, and you feel it, there are very few scenarios he can imagine where you're okay with it. And if you decide to question him on it, he'd be done for-–because there's no way he'd be able to outright deny his attraction to you. Playing it off would feel too much like lying, and this is not the kind of scenario he imagines when he thinks about the way he'll admit his feelings to you.

You've noticed since the beginning that his body has been tense; you've been cuddling since you were young, and you're more than familiar with how he feels when he's relaxed. It's almost amazing how someone so muscular can still feel so soft when their body is at rest– and right now you can't help but notice that he feels very far from soft.

You tried to ignore it and focus on the show you're watching, and it worked for some time, but the longer he stays tense the more you can't help but wonder if you've been bothering him lately. It's become a growing pattern– you touch Changbin, in some ways small and menial like a passing tap to his arm as you slip past him in the kitchen, or large, in which you hug him tight and envelop him with your entire body.

Either way, the reaction is the same; he instantly tenses. You're not sure if he intends to do so, or if it's an unconscious reaction he doesn't even realize he's doing, but it hasn't gone unnoticed by you. The two of you have always been a match when it comes to being clingy and affectionate, but maybe that isn't the kind of attention he wants to get from you anymore.

Are you being overbearing? Did you unintentionally do something wrong? Maybe he wants to distance himself from you but is just either too nice or too scared to say it out loud and hurt your feelings.

When you tilt your head to look at him, his cheeks are pinker than they were just moments ago, with his gaze fixed solely on the tv. You're sure he can feel you looking at him, but he doesn't turn his head to meet your eyes. You want to believe he's just really engrossed in the show, but you can't help but doubt it. You know him, and you're certain that for whatever reason, he's avoiding your gaze.

"Am I bothering you?" you ask abruptly, and perhaps a bit more vulnerable than you would've liked. Not that you can help it, really; you just really care about Changbin, and you can't stand not knowing if you've done something to upset him or make him want to separate himself from you. You have to know, because you can't stand it any longer.

"What? No, I– what?" Changbin finally looks at you, furrowed brows peeking out between strands of his long, messy curls. You didn't expect him to be so surprised by your question; admittedly, it is sudden, but this has been building for weeks hasn't it? You thought he'd be relieved that you're bringing it up first so that he doesn't have to.

You've never been happier to be wrong, or to see such genuine confusion on his face. Thank God. "Sorry, I just.. You've been acting different lately, and I thought that maybe it was because I did something wrong," you explain, following it with a small, awkward laugh.

Really, you're relieved; at the same time however, you do feel a bit embarrassed and silly to have been questioning what's been happening with him now that he's so clearly taken aback. You jumped to conclusions and got a bit ahead of yourself, it’s true– but.. If that’s not it, then what is it?

Surely there’s a reason– his behavior wouldn’t have changed if everything is really the same as it's always been. If nothing's wrong, why does he tense up every time you try to act affectionate with him? Why does he hesitate to meet your gaze when he never had a problem doing so before? Why does it always feel like he's putting distance between you?

Changbin swallows, you notice– a nervous response that you guess is from putting him on the spot. Because if it's not what you've been thinking, you need to be provided with another explanation– an explanation that only he can offer you. He needs to clear up this misunderstanding if he doesn't want you to wrongfully think you've done wrong by him, but what can he say that also omits the truth he isn't ready to admit?

His cheeks grow pinker, and you can tell he's struggling to find words– something you'd typically never expect to see in your charismatic best friend. You've untangled yourself from him enough to lift yourself up, weight propped up by your elbow while you look directly in his eyes. He's slightly beneath you at this angle, eyes having to travel up to meet your own, and again he swallows.

He's so fucked. There's nothing he can say right now other than "I really fucking like you and being this close to you all the time is making me crazy."

But he can't actually say that. Changbin wants his confession to come with a grand, romantic gesture. He wants to say the sweetest, more perfect words he can come up with. He wants to be a man of action, someone as cool as they are sincere, someone who can make you swoon with suave, but genuine effort. Admitting his feelings to you now, like this, would be the furthest thing from charming, or cool, or perfect.

As if all of that wasn't enough, now he has to make a conscious effort to not let his eyes wander down to look at your chest– because he's been chubbing up since the moment you started cuddling, and if he catches a glimpse of your cleavage now, he's done for. It feels vaguely pathetic to be this affected by you when you don't even realize you're doing it to him.

Changbin's eyes act against the purposeful efforts of his brain and travel to your chest, met overtly with the sight of your breasts pressed together. Fuck. He looks back up to your face quickly, hoping you haven't noticed where his eyes wandered. He wishes he could reach between your bodies and discreetly adjust his pants to hide his growing erection, but he can't, and God help him, you're going to notice any second now.

And you're looking at him so sweetly and earnestly, patient and caring, totally unaware of what you're doing to him and what his actual struggle is. He wants to clear everything up, doesn't want you to feel like the fault of what he's going through lies with you, he wants to answer every question you have, he really does– but he's found himself in a vicious cycle.

Trying not to think about the position you're both in, of how pretty you are looking down at him, or of your chest that he can't seem to ignore despite how badly he needs to focus on anything else just makes him dwell on it even more. The more he tries not to, the more space it takes up in his mind, until it's entirely clouded, preventing him from conjuring a thought worthy of being spoken to you.

Fuck thinking of an excuse or explanation, he can't think of anything other than your tits being so close to his face. He wants nothing more than to kiss them, to feel your fingers running through his hair as he sticks his tongue out to lick your nipples, has thought about squeezing them between his palms so many times.

So can he offer you a reasonable enough excuse that hides the truth of the matter? Absolutely fucking not– not when all he can think about is how you'd feel and taste. "Changbin?" your questioning voice snaps him out of it, looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights behind his thick rimmed glasses.

He looks guilty, face entirely flushed red all the way to the tips of his ears. And you're convinced now that he was trying to spare your feelings, and was stuck on finding the right way to break it to you. He didn't know what to say, and was trying so desperately to think of something that wouldn't crush you.

He can see the hurt wash over you, and he opens his mouth, ready to blurt out anything in a futile attempt at damage control, but you're already speaking before he even gets the chance to try. "You don't have to spare my feelings, you can be honest, just tell me–" you say as you start to push yourself away from him, very clearly misunderstanding the situation that's been unfolding.

Before he can even begin to figure out if he should be relieved or devastated by your incorrect assumptions hiding what he feels, the process of moving your leg from between his causes him to let out a gasp that takes you both by surprise. You feel it– his semi-hard erection brushes against your leg as you attempt to move it out from between his thighs.

"Oh," is suddenly all you can manage to say. Is Changbin attracted to you..? Is that why for months he's slowly but surely become so different in your presence? When you look back to him, he's covered his face with his hands over his glasses, his pouty bottom lip quivering in what you can only assume to be mortification over his body betraying him.

The question now is, is this simply a physical reaction to being close or something more than that? Would it happen to him no matter who was pressed against him, or is it you in particular that causes his body to react this way? You won't know until he tells you, but you hope more than anything he wants you as much as you've always wanted him.

The idea that he may view you romantically is not something you ever allowed yourself to consider a possibility, but oh, how you've wanted it. Changbin has always been perfect to you; a gentleman in all aspects, attentive, considerate, thoughtful, your very best friend. You always thought you'd be lucky if someone like him were to love you, and you always held your partners to the standard he showed you.

You thought that even if you couldn't have Changbin, you could at least have someone like him; and while no one ever made you feel the way he does, disappointing you in one way or another, you still tried. Perhaps it was unfair, as no one can compare to Changbin, but if he wants you then you'll take him in a heartbeat, no questions asked. Even when it wasn't entirely conscious to you, your heart has always belonged to him.

He flinches when you call his name again; your tone is soft, but he's still afraid to meet your gaze and discover what kind of expression is on your face. He thinks he'll die if he sees anything even remotely resembling disgust or anger. He cares about you so much, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if you lost your trust in him because of this.

You reach for his hands, and despite his nerves threatening to eat him alive for perhaps the first time in his life, he lets you take his hands away from his face. The apprehension in his eyes is clear, though there's a flash of relief when he can see that you're not upset with him. "I'm sorry, really," he blurts out quickly, feeling like he should apologize even if you aren't going to chastise him for getting hard simply from being close to you.

“Does this happen a lot when we..?” you ask, watching as his blush spreads down his neck while he hesitantly nods. You’ve never seen him so red and shy before– and honestly, you like it. You’ve always considered Changbin to be cute, but this is cute on an entirely different level; you hope this won’t be the only time you get to see him this way. But before that can happen, you have a more pressing question to ask him.

"Do you want me to help you?" is the next question to leave you, and fucking hell, does that send him reeling. He can’t believe this is really happening, that you’re even asking him so casually. And while it isn’t the way he pictured something happening between you after his many months of pining, he could never say no to you– he's been obsessively thinking about you all this time, how could he say anything but yes?

Still, he hesitates regardless; not because he's unsure about continuing, or because he doesn't want to, but because what if it means different things for the two of you? For Changbin, it'd be everything. You're the only person he's ever liked this much, he might even be in love with you, and he doesn't think he'd be able to recover from having a casual fling with you. He'd never be able to go back to before and pretend he doesn't feel as much for you as he does.

"If you say no, we can pretend this never happened," you assure him when you see the nervous hesitance in his eyes. It's not what you'd want to hear, but he deserves to be offered an out if he needs it; because as much as you want him, you don't want him to feel stuck and uncomfortable. And then you continue, hoping more than anything that he shares the sentiment of your next words, "But I think you should know, I really like you, Binnie. And I'll be really happy if you say yes."

With your admission, all his doubts and fears are cleared in an instant. Really, that's all he needed to hear to be sure what he plans to say next is the right thing to say to you. It's not how he ever intended to ask you this question, but he’d never dream of passing up the opportunity presented to him– the opportunity to be yours, and for you to be his in turn. "If I say yes, will you be my girlfriend?"

He’s smiling, sweet and cute as he asks, and it makes you smile too– because this is much more like the Changbin you know and love. He giggles when you accept, and as the word "boyfriend" leaves you in reference to him, absolutely giddy to finally be yours. Maybe this is better than the way he always pictured it would happen; because this is more organically you, what is more natural to your dynamic and the care you have for each other.

Leaning down, you softly press your lips to his, and even just a gesture so small is enough to spread goosebumps over his skin. It's so soft, slow, every sensation lingering even as you pull away to take a breath before kissing him again. No kiss he's ever had before compares to how it feels to kiss you; he doesn't think he's ever felt as positively electric as he does right now.

Is it normal for every touch of your lips to make him tremble so much? And his heart is already beating so fast, thumping loudly against his chest with each additional kiss and tracing touch of your fingers over his body. Down his arms, over his chest, underneath his shirt and across his stomach– all of it adds to the sparks in his veins.

His hands explore you too– eager, and a bit clumsy, but you find his enthusiasm infectious. He's so perfectly warm and soft, and you can't resist the urge to squeeze him in your hands– his soft tummy, his love handles, his defined pecs; you squeeze everywhere your hands can reach. Changbin lets out a soft, surprised squeak the first time, but he quickly grows used to it, and finds himself mimicking the way you touch him.

He starts with the leg not tucked between his thighs, hand trailing up and down the length of it before he squeezes. Then he moves on to your hips before traveling to your backside, then your waist, and finally your breasts. Even just feeling them over your clothes excites him beyond words, eager and happy to be touching you like he's dreamed of so many times before.

He likes the pleased hums and sighs you let out almost more than he likes the act of squeezing you in his palms, each sound just as pretty and soft as you are. He shivers when he feels your tongue swipe across his bottom lip, and he eagerly parts his lips for you. Your tongue slipping inside his mouth and swirling around his own makes him practically vibrate with desire for more.

Changbin follows you when you start to pull away from the kiss, eyes remaining closed for several seconds before he finally opens them to look at you. His pretty lips, still wet and parted, turn into a pout when you've gone further than he can still reach. His pout vanishes, however, when you start to pull up your shirt, and it makes you giggle; he really is just so cute.

You weren't wearing a bra beneath your shirt– you never do when you're relaxing before going to bed, even at Changbin's place. You always felt comfortable enough around him that you didn't feel like you had to sacrifice your comfort during your sleepovers, assured in the fact that he'd always be respectful towards you even if he happened to notice.

And while you're comfortable and confident, there's still a certain tinge of nervousness that bubbles up in the back of your mind that comes from being exposed to his eyes now. Tits are pretty– doesn't matter who they're on, or what shape they're in, they always look good; but it's almost funny how simply showing them to the person you like so much makes you nervous regardless of this fact.

You're not ashamed to say you've slept with a lot of people, and that a majority of said people have seen you completely bare– but there's none you've ever liked quite as much or in the same way that you like Changbin. It makes it more intimate somehow, so real, and you suppose that's the part that makes you nervous.

But oh, how his gaze fills your stomach with butterflies– because you don't think anyone's ever looked at you the way he is right now, with eyes sparkling in awe as he takes the sight of you in. He looks at you with pure wonder and adoration, in a way that is as sweet as it is full of lust and desire.

In his eyes, you may as well be one of the 7 wonders of the world– something worthy of reverence and worship. He'd do it if you'd let him– worship you until the sky itself falls and everything around the two of you crumbles. He'll show you in any way he can, with every kiss and every touch, that you always have been and always will be the only one for him.

"Can– Can I touch them? Please?" he asks, polite, sweet, and full of hope that you won't deny him. It's a little funny, considering how just moments ago he was touching you all over– but it's sweet too, how considerate he's trying to be now that you're bare before him despite how eager and worked up he is.

And really, you'd never dream of denying him anything– but you do have a request of your own to make too. "If you take your shirt off for me first," you tell him, fingers ghosting over his torso, "I want to touch you too, want to see every inch of you."

"Oh," he blinks, his cock that has been semi-hard for the better part of an hour stiffening more as it twitches in response to your words. "Yeah– yeah, of course, want you to touch me too," he finally breathes, wasting no time in lifting his back off the bed to pull his shirt up and over his head.

You giggle at the urgency in which he gets his shirt off, and he smiles back at you when he falls back against the bed. He knows he's eager and excitable, and he has no shame in showing it– he's wanted you way too much and for way too long to act like this is just a typical Saturday night for him.

Even if he makes a fool of himself, he'll be happy and it'll be worth it– because it's you he's doing it for, doing it with, and that's all he's ever needed. "You're so cute, Binnie," you tell him, and he smiles brighter, cutely scrunching his nose that way you love so much, and does whenever he's truly happy.

His hands reach for you first, cupping your breasts with an adorable pout of concentration and determination on his face. He's careful with his squeezes, well aware of how strong his grip can be and not wanting at all to hurt you. He rubs over your nipples with his thumbs, and then between his fingers, licking his lips as he watches them get hard enough to gently roll them.

He looks to you for approval, blinking up at you with hope for praise and affirmation that you like it, that he's doing it right. It makes you want to coo at him– but you resist, and simply reach your hand to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb as you instruct him to keep going. He all but melts into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm and closing his eyes for just a moment to relish in it before he continues.

Changbin sticks his tongue out next, watching you carefully as he brings it to one of your pebbled nipples. You meet him halfway so he doesn't have to strain his neck from lifting it off the pillow, leaning closer to his face as you move your hand to thread your fingers through his curls.

His eyes stay on you as he alternates between where he licks, one of his hands always playing with the nipple that his mouth isn't giving attention to. The moan you let out when he sucks one into his mouth makes his cock throb, and truly, he's never felt as blessed as he does right now, with one of his many fantasies finally becoming a reality.

Still, he's thirsty for more– he wants to feel you everywhere, to hear your pretty voice sing him praises, to become so absorbed in each other's pleasure that everything else in the world fall away. He wants to envelop you with his body, he wants your touch to consume him, he wants you to both be equally messy and dirty and engrossed in bliss.

"Touch me now, please, anywhere, want you to," he pleads after releasing your nipple from his mouth with a small pop. His face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, dark eyes soft and pleading behind his glasses, lips wet and hair a mess– you don't think you've ever seen anything more perfect and alluring than this.

It makes you want to dote on him, and you'll do just that– especially if it's something he wants as badly as you. "Anything for you," you oblige, giving him a quick, sweet peck to the top of his head before your hands are once again traveling over his body. You scoot down just enough to be able to reach his neck, pressing kisses beneath his ear before trailing them down.

Changbin intended to keep playing with your chest as you touched him, but he quickly loses focus, sucking in a breath and eyes fluttering closed as your tongue presses against his sweet spot. It's almost overwhelming for him– your hands squeezing the thick muscle of his arms and pecs while you tongue dotes on him, body squirming when your teeth lightly graze over the sensitive skin near his pulse point.

Similar to when you first squeezed him in your hands earlier, another squeak of surprise escapes him when you brush your thumbs over his exposed nipples– you guess no one's ever done that to him before. You hesitate a moment before repeating the action, wanting first to make sure it's something he's open to experiencing again. He's biting his lip and looking at you not with apprehension like you half expected to see, but curiosity and excitement.

So you do it again, and he gasps, back arching off the bed as his teeth sink further into his bottom lip. Fuck, he never thought he'd be so sensitive there– and he whines from deep in his throat when you comment on it. "You're so sensitive, Bin," you whisper in near awe, and he's half tempted to cover his mouth with his hand to suppress the moan you threaten to bring out of him with your soft fingers.

His cock is the hardest he thinks it's possibly ever been. You can feel it prodding against your thigh, and poor Changbin, he's so worked up and eager for stimulation that he can't help but grind it against you as you continue to rub his nipples between your fingers. In a different scenario, it'd be the bed or his own hand he'd be helplessly rutting against– but your thigh is all he has access to.

It makes him feel positively dirty, naughty, but he can't stop– even when the friction from the fabric of his clothes overwhelms him, his hips don't stop moving against you. You look down between your bodies, watch the wet patch on his pants grow as he continues to rut against your thigh.

You want to take one of his nipples into your mouth, but you don't want him to lose the friction against you– so you bend carefully, conscious of keeping your leg pressed against him between his thighs as you wrap your lips around the nipple easiest for you to reach. He whimpers– a high pitched sound you never expected to hear from him as you swirl your tongue around his hardened nipple.

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh my god–" Changbin whines, bringing up his hands to once again cover his heated face. It's so embarrassing– how good it feels, how loud he's being, how he just can't seem to stop himself from seeking the delicious friction your thigh provides him. Overwhelming too, how close he is to cumming already, his body taut and high strung.

His hips begin to stutter, sweat steadily building on his brow, his stomach clenching as he tries his best to hold back the inevitable. "Are you close, Binnie? Gonna cum just like this?" you release his nipple from your mouth to ask him sweetly. Against your expectations, he quickly shakes his head– as if fighting against himself before he lowers his hands and looks at you with glassy eyes.

"Don't– don't want to," he tells you after another obscene whine, "wanna fuck you first, don't wanna cum until I fuck you." The way he looks at you as he says it makes your heart jolt and stomach twist. Messy hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, pouty bottom lip swollen and red, eyes pleading and desperate.

God, he's fucking cute– positively delectable. You'll have to save eating him for next time, though; right now, you just want to give him everything he asks for. "You want to fuck me?" you ask him, reaching your hand down to dip under the waistband of his pants and underwear. It's sticky and wet, pre-cum smeared all over the inside of the fabric.

He keens, nodding eagerly as he squirms beneath the touch of your soft, warm hand. It's such a contrast from the prior sensation, but just as equally overwhelming. You stroke him slowly; just enough to keep him worked up, but not enough to make him cum. His eyes are fluttering closed, hands twisting the sheets beneath him, hips jolting up to meet your strokes.

"You're so thick, Binnie," you tell him, and he throbs from the compliment, whining almost helplessly. It's true too– you're not just saying it to make him feel good. It's not the longest you've ever held, but it's definitely the thickest– you can't even wrap your hand entirely around it. "Think you can help me get ready to take it?" you ask, needing to suppress the urge to giggle when he enthusiastically nods.

"Anything! I'll do anything for you, anything you need," he babbles, and you thank him with a sweet kiss that he happily returns. He whines when you stop touching him and pry yourself away, hips chasing your touch even though he's the one who wanted you to stop– his body just can't help it.

He watches breathlessly as you stand from the bed, sliding your thumbs into the waistband of your pajamas and slowly pulling them down along with your panties. He decides to follow your lead, scrambling to lift himself from the bed and pull the rest of his clothes off in one quick motion.

Both bare, you take a moment to stare at one another. You get a better view of Changbin's drooling cock, while he finally gets a glimpse at your pussy– and fuck, is it the prettiest thing he's ever seen. How did he get so fucking lucky?

You come back to the bed, and instead of letting you crawl back on top of him, Changbin gently guides you to the side of him and onto your back. You spread your legs for him once you're comfortable, and he props himself up on his elbow, looking down at your body, so gorgeous and perfect.

He isn't well practiced, so he mimics the actions taken in one of his favorite, more intimate porn videos. He starts with kissing you, slow but messy, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His hand travels down the length of your torso, and he can't help but gasp and break away from the kiss when he reaches your core, and your arousal coats his fingers.

"Oh my god, do you– do you always get this wet?" he asks, almost mesmerized by how effortlessly his fingers glide between your folds. "Only for you," you answer; you don't know if he believes it, but it's true. The only other times you've ever gotten this soaked were in the privacy of your bedroom, when you touched yourself with Changbin's image at the forefront of your imagination.

He continues to rub his fingers up and down between your folds until his fingers are completely coated, and only then does he finally ask, "Can I.. is- is it okay to put my fingers inside?" He blushes when you smile at him and nod, spreading your legs further apart while telling him exactly what he wants to hear. "Yeah, please, I want you to."

He presses the tips of his fingers to your hole before he slowly pushes one inside, watching in breathlessly awe as it disappears inside your warm, wet heat. You're so slick that it slides in and out easily, and soon enough you're instructing him to add another, and then one more, to which he easily obliges.

He can't decide where he wants to look more; between your legs, where his fingers thrust steadily in and out of you, or to your face, beautifully contorted in pleasure– so he ends up alternating between both. "Is this– is it good for you?" he asks the next time he looks at your face, desperate to perform well for you.

If there's anything he can do better, anything he needs to do differently, he needs to know– he'll follow any instruction you give him in a heartbeat. "Your fingers– when they're all the way inside, can you curl them for me, please?" you ask, and he's immediately doing exactly as you tell him, curling his fingers right against your sweet spot.

"Like this?" he asks, sliding his fingers out and quickly pushing them back inside, curling them to hit your spot, and then pulling them back out to repeat the motion. You let out whines and breathless moans, voice quickly growing shakier and shakier as you try to keep talking him through it.

"Y-Yeah, just like that, keep– keep going just like that," you tell him, voice unsteady between your whimpers and moans, but it's easily the prettiest sounds Changbin's ever heard– he just knows he'll become addicted to them.

He's addicted to everything about you, really– all of it is so captivating. The sounds you cry out, as well as the ones coming from between your legs as his fingers thrust in and out of you. He's mesmerized by how your thighs tremble and twitch when he picks up his pace, by the rapid rise and fall of your chest, by the way your eyes roll back as he drives you closer to sweet release.

"Bin, Binnie– 'm so close, just need– need a little more," you tell him between quick, shaky breaths. "Tell me," Changbin requests, slowing down the motion of his fingers just enough for you to be able to speak with more ease, "tell me what you need."

"Here, touch me here," you instruct, reaching your hand down to point him to your puffy, neglected clit. "With your thumb," you add after you show him, and he nods, pressing his thumb to your clit as he resumes the previous, quick motion of his fingers inside you.

He can feel you clench tighter around his fingers, while the sounds that escape you soon pick up in volume. Your thighs squeeze together and limit the motion of his hand, so he sticks to simply curling his fingers while rubbing your clit with his thumb. It only takes a few more strokes of his thumb to have your back arching off the bed, his name coming out in a choked sob.

Changbin doesn't slip his fingers out of you right away, instead keeping them inside until your breathing starts to steady and your thighs relax. "Was it.. did I do okay?" he asks after you've caught your breath, and God, the way you smile at him– he's sure he's never seen anything more radiant.

"You were perfect," you answer, leaning up to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss. "So perfect, felt so good," you continue between pressing kisses to his lips, "want you now." A shiver is sent straight down his spine; is this finally, really going to happen after so many nights spent hoping for it? “Do you have protection?” you ask after pulling away, and he pouts as he considers it.

He did have some, but.. how long has it been since the last time he had sex? He’s not confident he even remembers where he put them last; it hasn’t really been something pressing on his mind considering he discovered casual flings weren’t really his thing, and he thought the only person he wanted to have sex with, you, was unavailable.

“Uh, I think so! ..maybe?” he mumbles as he crawls over to his nightstand and starts haphazardly shoving things aside while searching through it. You giggle as you sit up and crawl over yourself, deciding to help him look for one in his messy drawer. “Ah, there’s one!” you point to where you see the corner of a packet sticking out from under the book you’re pretty sure he’s been reading on and off for like, 6 months now.

“Thank God,” you hear him mutter under his breath as he lifts the book up to grab it, and you giggle again; you don’t think there’ll ever be a time you don’t find him endlessly adorable. It wouldn't have been a big deal if he didn’t have one, of course, as you usually carried around spares in your bag, but there was something really endearing about his urgency to find one.

He’s pretty sure that the condoms expiration date hasn’t passed, but he still checks first regardless– better to be safe than sorry, and all. “All good?” you ask as you watch him check it over, and smile when he crawls back to you and plants a giddy kiss to your lips.

“Yep! All good,” he smiles, settling himself between your legs after you rest back against the bed. He’s honestly pretty nervous, but his joy to be with someone he loves so much does wonders for distracting his brain from the fear of not performing to some imaginary standard of perfection in bed.

Changbin stops when it’s time to open the condom, staring at it for a moment as if considering what to do. You’re about to ask him if he needs help, but he ends up speaking again before you can. “Uh, I know tearing it open with my teeth is sexy or whatever, but I think I’d fuck it up so I’m not gonna do that,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. Your silly boy.

“Don’t worry, you’re already plenty sexy without doing stuff like that,” you tell him. “Am I?” he asks, another cute smile spreading on his lips when you nod, and confirm that he’s very sexy. Cute too, you tell him, easily the cutest person in the whole world. And his eyes crinkle and nose scrunches in the way you love again as he giggles.

What amazing duality your boyfriend has; so strong and intimidating in physique, but with the softest, sweetest personality you’ve ever known anyone to have. He’s so perfect.

He rips open the packet with his hands, and the condom slips from his fingers when he first pulls it out, but he thankfully manages to catch it before it falls on you, or the bed. "My bad," he says with a shy, slightly awkward laugh; maybe he's more nervous than he initially thought.

He's suddenly extremely conscious of how fast his heart is beating, and of the tremble in his hands. "Want me to help?" you ask, smiling at him sweetly when he timidly nods. "Ah, yeah, if you don't mind," he mutters, and you quickly sit back up, placing your hands over his.

"Keep this one here," you instruct as you bring his hand to the base of his cock to hold in place and keep still. "And then we're gonna roll it down, like this," you guide the hand holding the condom to the tip of his cock, helping him spread it smoothly down his length with your fingers atop his.

If it were anyone else, he might feel embarrassed or a little ashamed over needing help, and for needing to be guided like this with something he feels most guys his age already have perfected. But with you, it just feels sweet and intimate; he can tell there's no judgment, and you're not going to make fun of him for not quite knowing how best to do things.

He's safe with you. And he's glad that out of all the billions of people in the world that he could've met, befriended, and then fallen in love with, that it was you.

You lay back against the bed after Changbin thanks you for your help with a kiss, but you notice he still looks nervous, so you hold up your hand to offer it to him. He smiles as he takes it in his, and you give him a reassuring squeeze after he intertwines his fingers with yours. He uses his other hand to align himself with your hole, and takes a breath before starting to finally push himself inside.

You both squeeze each other’s hand; Changbin because fuck, it already feels so good even with just the tip inside, and you because even with 3 of his fingers prepping you for his cock, it’s still a stretch. He’s pushing inside slowly, and it’s thankfully to both your benefit– because he’d definitely cum if he didn’t, and you’re sure there’d be a sting if he pushed it all in at once.

He whimpers as he bottoms out, his hand still squeezing yours as he tries desperately to ground himself. “God, you feel so good, can’t– can’t believe how tight you are, oh my god,” he whines, absolutely sure that if it wasn’t for the condom he would’ve cum from the very moment he felt your walls squeezing around him.

“You’re big,” you reply breathlessly, reaching your free hand up to the back of his neck to pull him down, closer to you, “so fucking big, feel so full.” “Fuck, don’t say that, I’ll cum–” he groans, and you can feel his cock twitch and throb, as if it to confirm to you he means it. A kiss is the only apology you offer now that his lips are in reach of yours, and he lets go of your hand to prop himself up on his elbows.

He rests his forehead against yours when he pulls away, and slowly, he starts to pull out. “Gonna– gonna fuck you now,” he breathes, pulling out almost completely before slowly pushing back inside, “gonna, oh– fuck, gonna make you feel good too, promise.” You bite your lip, muffling a whine as he continues to build his slow, but steady pace. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked slowly by anyone, but fuck, it feels good.

You hold his face in your hands, kissing him deep and messy, with your tongue shoved as far into his mouth as it’ll go. You’re both panting by the time one of you pulls away, and oh, when he looks at you– his heart feels like it could stop right then and there. You’re so beautiful, he’s so in love with you, and the way you look at him so full of tenderness and adoration makes his head spin.

He buries his head into your neck as he starts to fuck you faster, genuinely afraid that he’ll cry if he looks in your eyes any longer. You wrap your arms around him, clinging to his body as you start to roll your hips to meet his thrusts and help him to hit your spot. He moans your name, one of his hands snaking underneath your body to pull you even closer.

You’re pressed to him, chest to chest, bodies hot and sweaty. His face feels unbearably hot, and when he lifts his face from your neck, the lenses of his glasses have almost completely fogged over. “Bin, oh my goodness,” you giggle as you reach up to take his glasses off for him, and he giggles too, though it’s quickly cut off by another moan.

It’s easy to tell that he’s getting close, and it really comes as no surprise– he’s been so hard for so long now, and he purposely staved off his orgasm just for this moment. His thrusts become more desperate, the throbbing of his cock more constant as he squeezes and holds you tighter. His pace isn’t perfect and his thrusts aren’t precise enough, he knows, but he hopes he’s still doing well enough to at least uphold his promise to make you feel just as good as he does.

He can feel you trying to snake your dominant hand between your bodies, and he pulls away from you enough to make it easier for you once he realizes what you’re trying to do. He tries to watch, but the very moment your fingers start to rub your clit, you clench around him and it makes his eyes roll back as he moans.

Changbin whimpers when you moan his name, hips stuttering and thrusts becoming erratic. “C-Close, oh my god, ‘m so close,” he whines, begrudgingly letting you go so he can dig his fingers into the mattress instead so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. His knuckles quickly turn white, and though it makes him emotional to do, he looks you in the eye.

It’s now that it really sets in just how much Changbin cares about you. There’s no one else he’d ever do this with, no one in the world he wants more than he wants you, and you can see it in the way he looks down at you. His furrowed brows and watery eyes, his bottom lip that trembles, the desperate, almost pathetic cries of your name. He lets you see his most vulnerable self, because he trusts you and loves you.

You reach to his face, cupping his face in your hand to guide him down to you. He thinks you’re going to kiss him, and you are close enough to, as he's able to feel your breath against his lips. But you don’t– instead you whisper words that make his world tilt on its axis, a loud, desperate moan escaping from deep in his chest as he cums.

"I love you.”

He fills the condom with long, thick and sticky spurts, his entire body trembling. In turn, it only takes a few more strokes of your fingers to cum again, your eyes rolling back as the white hot pleasure licks over every inch of your skin. Changbin collapses first, careful to fall in a way that won’t completely smother you beneath him.

He pulls out slowly after he catches his breath, and then carefully removes the condom from his softening length. He leans over your body to toss it in the trash bin near his bed before he falls back down next to you, and wraps an arm around you to pull you closer. You end up in the same cuddling position you were in at the start of the night, with Changbin half on his back, and you with an arm thrown over his body and leg tucked between his.

You’re naked this time, there’s an “Are you still there?” pop up on the tv that’s since gone ignored, and you told Changbin you love him. So it’s better, he thinks; everything about where you are now is better. “I love you too,” he finally says, and you giggle, scooching up so you can kiss him. “Took you long enough to say it back,” you say, and he giggles too, happy beyond words to finally have everything he’s ever wished for.

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

#ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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diejager · 1 year

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Hi! I've been binging your works and I absolutely LOVE how you write Ghost's character.

I was wondering if I can request mentor! Ghost with an Fem! recruit who's like his mini-me (mask and everything) and some others decide to play a prank and pull off her mask in front of the team, cue angry, protective Ghost. Thank you!

Mask prank

He was reluctant at first, his heart frozen over to a cold, dead and unfeeling thing. Ghost liked to keep himself closed and at an arm’s length of people he didn’t know, you fit in that category. An unknown aspect of his entourage that he hated, he abhorred the new and strange.

An yet, you squirrelled your way into his mind, your jumpiness at loud sounds, your tense figure and flinches when people got near to you, wandering hands of ignorant fools that couldn’t understand your jarring behaviour towards physical touch and that exhausted gleam in your eyes, ones that have seen too much for your age. You reminded him of himself, a younger and pained self with a twitchiness towards touch and an awkward personality.

Perhaps that’s why you got to him so quickly, he tested your limits, standing closer and closer to you every time to see where he had to stop before you crashed. With encouragement from the others, he got to the point where he could touch you, placing a hand on your shoulder or forearm, guiding you this way or that way. You reminded him so much of the person he tried burying, to kill off. You reminded him of Simon Riley.

And yet, he gifted you a mask after your first mission with them, one of his balaclava with a painted skull. He remembered the happiness in your eyes and the joy of his team, letting them embrace you tightly and patting you proudly. He’d never seen anything so precious and worth protecting.

That’s why - he thought - he got so mad at a group of privates that pulled a prank, a mean one, on you. He was there when it happened - he was always near you, whether it’s beside you or in the same room, he was always with you as your support buddy - when the men and women approached you, watching your body grow rigid and tense, a frown hidden under the same mask he wore. It started with harmless banter, them surrounding you without much intent until someone reached for you mask.

You panicked, arms jerking outwards to stop her, but another one pulled the mask off you from behind. You weren’t fast enough and outnumbered, and you were paying the price for it. You froze, hands hastily covering your face in a frenzy of harsh breaths and panicked thoughts.

Ghost saw red, he stomped over to you slumped figure, looming over you and glaring at the calling and jeering group that saw no issue in taking your mask away, your shield.

“The fuck you think you’re doing,” he barked, eyes narrowed so much that his eyes seemed to turn black.

He watched them stutter, lining up before him while he stood before you, blocking their view on your agitated and fearful figure. His eyes stared down at the person who tried to take your - his - mask off and the one who did, burying them down with his gaze alone. If his gaze could kill, they would’ve been burned and buried six feet under a hundred times, that red-rimmed glare with abysmal eyes made his name a joke.

“It- it was a prank, sir!” The person holding your shield in his hand spoke up, trying to defend himself with he word prank.

“A prank? Are you bloody children?!”

What a fucking excuse, they were adults, privates on duty for any deployment and they decided to play a prank on another? He couldn’t believe his ears when they blurred out those words, he couldn’t put his anger in words. He was never good with his emotions, never articulate enough to show or tell people how he felt, it felt jarring.

Without a word, he snatched the mask out of their hands, turning to face you with comforting gestures. He hated how small you made yourself, crumpled into yourself with so much terror, hate and trauma. He pushed the mask over your head, hushed words to your ears alone as e held you by your biceps.

“Scram,” he glared over his shoulders, watching the privates squeak and flee, steps quick and clumsy as they ran from the room.

Turning back to you, he led you away from the room, catching on your shallow breaths and your erratic heart. He walked you to your room with a hand on your upper back, a firm and grounding hand that reminded you that he was here, that you were with him in a disclosed base in the British isles. He stayed the night, taking your desk chair while you dozed off to a night plagued by your demons.

He’d have to leave you under Gaz and Soap’s watchful eyes and talk to Price about this tomorrow. If Price doesn’t do anything about them - although he doubted Price won’t, he was fiercely protective of his group of troubled children - Ghost will have to think of something by himself, a lesson for everyone to remember.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

#cod mw2 #x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #task force 141 #mw2 #call of duty mw2

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gh0stsp1d3r · 2 months

Text

Avy jorrāelan

req: full request here.

warnings: smut, canon typical targaryen incest, male! brother!reader, bottom!r, top!jace, this is longer than i expected, smut with plot, hand job

MASTERLIST

As much as you adored your brother, he had always been distant. When growing up, he didnt do much with you, always off training or something. But he was always sweet, and kind to you when you were together. You remembered many fond moments you shared during your childhood with the boy.

You’re not quite sure when this innocent crush on him started. For most of your life, you had only been around your family, clinging to Jace most of all, following him around like a lost puppy. You grew up around him, you knew him more than anyone else had. You only wanted to serve him, to be loved by him.

Jacaerys was none the wiser about your infatuation with him, of course, he was always confused by the sudden gifts that sometimes flooded his room, the compliments, the staring, and the affection you showed him. He brushed it off as an innocent fascination and adoration from his brother.

Jace didn’t know that everything he said to you replayed in your mind constantly, overthinking every little word and sentence he uttered, breaking the sentences apart to understand what he had meant. Jace didn't know that you held onto every little crumb of affection he gave you, that those crumbs had given you more hope that perhaps your brother shared the same love for you as you did him.

And so, as the war began, time passed and lives were ended, the council talked and talked about alliances they could make and how. That is when they came up with an idea that for some reason, infuriated Jace.

“Prince Jacaerys, sir, he’s old enough to be wed, and this alliance would help, I do not see why n-” one protested, thinking the idea to be a rather smart one.

Jace shook his head before interrupting the man. “I do not want to hear about it anymore. There has to be better options.” He ignored the odd look that Rhaenyra gave him, turning his head the other way.

Later that night, in his bed. He sat staring at his high ceiling, wondering over and over why he cared so much about whether you should be married off or not. Nothing he did distracted him from his thoughts, and he struggled deeply to sleep, tossing and turning throughout the entire night.

The next morn, you walked with one goal in your mind. With the war raging on and people counting on you all, you knew what you had to do. You breathed heavily as you stepped into the dragonpit, Silverwing in the middle.

You took a deep breath, walking closer and closer to the large silver dragon. She huffed in your face, staring curiously at you. You had decided that she would be the best dragon, because she tend to be more docile and kinder to strangers.

You had lessons as a child on how to claim a dragon, just never made no actual effort to claim one. But you knew that today was the day. Her tail whipped around, you yelping, ducking under it so that it didn’t crush you and fling you to the walls.

“Y/n!” You heard a voice shout from behind you, your brother. You didn’t glance back at him, gulping before you attempted to mount her, putting your hands on her sides, gently petting her.

“Lykirī.” You murmured to her, watching her head stare at you, move closer to your figure. You shut your eyes, feeling her hot breath near your face. Your breathing was erratic, and you knew you had to calm down before you did anything.

The creature let out a loud roar, you slightly stumbling back, but regaining your balance. You turned to the dragon now, staring at her, your brother far behind standing with Rhaenyra. “Lykirī.” You repeated to the dragon.

Rhaenyra held out a hand in front of the boy, like he made an attempt to get you away from the dragon.

You turned your attention back to the dragon, large beady eyes staring into yours. You calmed your breathing, reminding yourself that this dragon would help your mother, would help your brother. And that was all the reason you needed.

You took a deep breath, slowly climbing on top of the dragon, who let out quieter noises now, still following your every move. You mounted the dragon successfully, smiling widely as you stared down at her. You grabbed onto the reins at her sides tightly.

“Sovès.” You told her, and she took off into the air. With the wind in your hair, and the clouds below you, you felt peace. That was until you went back onto the ground, your smile falling when you hopped off of silverwing, being met face to face with Jace, who didn’t look as happy as your mother did.

She spoke a congratulations, Jace glaring at you and not speaking a word until you both were alone, and he gripped your arm, pulling you aside.

"What were you thinking?" he asked urgently, his furrowed brow revealing his frustration. You stood there, confused, unable to understand why he was so upset.

“Wh- what? Why are you mad?” You asked the boy, shoving his arm off of you. He huffed, glancing around.

“Because, that was an incredibly dangerous thing to do. You didn’t even think to tell us? To tell me? You just marched on in here! You could’ve gotten hurt! What if we hadn’t been there and something happened? I would’ve never been able to forgive myself!”

“I wanted you to be happy for me, proud of me!” You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest, trying to fight the tears that dared to fall.

“It was stupid, y/n. Gods, why must you be so…”

You looked at the boy, the tears falling once you couldn’t help it anymore. “So what, Jace?”

“Nevermind.” He sighed, shaking his head, glancing down at the floor and avoiding your teary eyes. He hated when you cried, but now he had no one to blame but himself.

“Say it!” You told him, bringing your hand up and shoving his shoulder. “Say it! I’m so what, Jace? I’m stupid?”

“Your decisions are stupid.”

You bitterly laughed at his response, shaking your head. “I am stupid. I am utterly stupid for thinking that you would be happy for me.” You mumbled, he attempted to stop you when you turned, hearing his shout your name.

The next few days, you sulked around, everyone had noticed it, and was confused at your odd behavior. You hadn’t talked to Jace since then, avoiding him like the plague. You simply glanced at each other when you were at the table, but not uttering a word.

Jace had enough. The silence between the both of you was killing him. You being upset over him was killing him. So, he took a deep breath, before quietly knocking on your door, as to not wake or disturb anyone else.

You walked over to the door, opening it and peeking out. You opened it more upon seeing Jace.

“What?” You murmured to the boy, not quite wanting to see him.

“Can you come out?”

Your eyebrows raised, tilting your head in confusion. “W-what?”

“Please. Just come out of your room. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” You responded.

“I have our dragons ready for us.”

This piqued your curiosity, you opening the door wider. “Why?”

“I thought we should go out and fly.” He shrugged, glancing around. “Come on.”

You sighed, silently closing the door behind you and following Jace outside, where Silverwing and Vermax sat, waiting for you both to mount them.

You shook your head, smiling at your brothers idea.

“Does anyone know?” You asked him quietly. He smiled back at you, shaking his head, walking over to Vermax while you walked to Silverwing, both of you mounting the dragons at the same time.

You held onto the reins, glancing at your brother as you spoke to your dragon. “Sovès.”

You took off into the sky, your brother not far behind. After you were above the clouds, you stopped her, and you were drifting now. Jace caught up, your dragons side by side.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. The other day.” He told you, you turning to face him. His face looked guilty, like he had held his regrets.

“I am sorry as well.” You admitted.

“Don’t be. It was me who was being unreasonable.” He shrugged, small smile gracing his features now.

As he stared at you, and you stared back, Jacaerys had come to a realization. He was in love with you. That’s what’s been eating at him forever. He’s kept his feelings down in his chest, pushing them away anytime the thought came up. He realized it now.

You swallowed, turning to face the sky again. His gaze remained on you. You both talked, about honestly everything and anything you could. You had missed his smile, his laughter. Your heart was slowly mending back together with each moment you had with the boy.

After a while of talking and riding both dragons, you both landed outside, handing the dragons back to the dragon keepers outside. You both laughing as you ran down the halls, you opening your room doors after sneaking past some guards.

Your brother stood in front of you, leaning in your doorway when you entered. You quirked an eyebrow at the boy, he swallowed, stepping closer to you, his hands going to your face.

Your mouth went agape when his hands cupped your cheeks, his eyes boring into yours. You slowly leaned in, shutting your eyes, his lips meeting yours halfway.

You both melted into the kiss. He closed the doors behind him, gently pushing your further into the room, and then onto your bed.

His hand was on the small of your back, he panted for air when he pulled away, looking down at you underneath his body. You smiled up at the boy, heart racing at what was about to come.

His pace was slow once he was inside of you, you clutching tightly onto his back, holding his body closer to yours. You let out grunts and groans, both your noises filling up the room.

“I love you.” He mumbled to you, the confession making his heart feel lighter. You looked at the boy with all the adoration and love he swears he’s ever felt.

“Avy jorrāelan.” You replied softly, his eyes searching yours. His hand went down too your cock, you letting out a moan. He leaned down, pushing his mouth onto yours again as he began to tug at your member, your pre-cum falling onto his hands.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He muttered against your shoulder blade, kissing the skin there as well. His breath fell hot on it.

“I’ve waited longer for you.” You chuckled lowly, feeling his lips quirk up into a smile against your shoulders.

“Mayhaps.” He breathed out, feeling that familiar coil build in his stomach. You looked down where you both connected, before looking back at him.

“Jace…” you cried out at a particular thrust, his hands working at your cock faster.

“I know, I know.” He sighed out, feeling his release close as well. He placed a kiss on your collarbone, shooting his cum inside you with a groan, and yours spilling onto his hand.

#jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jacaerys smut #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x male reader

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luveline · 9 months

Note

Hi love, i would love to see more of spencer x stripper!reader. Hope u are doing good <3

hi thank u, u too! ♡ fem

You press the heel of your palm to the shower tiles, head hanging and hair soaked to the scalp. Rivulets of hot water and soap suds slick their way down your front.

“You okay?”

Spencer's voice through the door, a better warmth than any luxurious shower. “Sorry, I'm getting out!”

“No! No, stay in there if you want, I'm just wondering.”

You force yourself out of the shower and into a towel. “I'm getting out.”

“I have some clothes for you,” he says, “I can leave them by the door.”

You wrap the towel tightly around your chest and step to the door. Spencer's startled face is on the other side, smiling nervously, a bundle of clothes held to his chest.

“They're my friends. My coworker. Penelope? I asked her first and she said she doesn't mind at all. They might not fit, but…”

“Thank you. You and Penelope.” You hold out one hand. Spencer passes you the clothes through the cracks of the door and you shut it, maybe unnecessarily.

Spencer's seen you in various states of undress, but it isn't privacy that's worrying you tonight. You can't help looking over your shoulder, wondering if someone's watching you for a split second of madness.

You pull on your borrowed pyjamas. A little Japanese cat winks up at you from the pants, the shirt a baseball tee with pink sleeves and a white body. Cute, you think. Penelope must be fun.

Spencer's in the kitchen making two mugs of tea when you emerge. It's the herbal flavour you favour, steam billowing from the rims like clouds in the cold air. Your long walk in the rain is nearly forgotten by your skin if not your pittering pulse.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You sure?” He doesn't give you time to answer, carefully placing the two mugs on the coffee table, before tapping a gentle hand to your shoulder. “You wanna sit down?”

“I'm really fine, handsome, it's … it's not the first time someone's followed me home.” You smile falsely.

“That's not okay.”

“I know.” You point at your cup of tea. “Can I?”

“Of course you can,” he says, sitting beside you on the couch, leaving a more than chivalrous gap between you.

It's not a gap you want nor need, and after a few sips you've warmed enough to sidle closer to him, in touching distance, and then touching. Thigh to thigh, you watch the tops of his cheeks turn a pretty, blurry pink. “I was scared,” —your knuckles touch briefly to his knee— “but nothing happened. So don't worry about me, Dr. Reid, please.” You layer your voice with a sweetness that comes with seduction, a playfulness to mete his sudden regression into timidity.

“I worry about you all the time.” He smiles, at least, so it isn't a burden.

“I worry about you, too.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, I just can't help thinking about the statistics. I know exactly how likely it is that something bad could happen to you, and it's not that you should worry, I don't want you to be scared, but– it's like, it plays on repeat in my head. It's– I'm not trying to–”

“Hey, handsome,” you murmur, giving his leg a shy squeeze. “I know. It's dangerous and it's unlikely at the same time. And it feels silly talking about it.”

“But silly not to,” he adds.

“Yeah. I know, Spencer, I swear.”

“I know you know,” he murmurs through a smile.

“I know you know I know,” you joke back, smiling back sunnily. It doesn't take much of him to cheer you up. Ever since the day you met, he's been like a balm for your rampant aching, a brown-eyed, pretty-handed sweetheart. Whether it's sharing a seat on the train, or meeting up for dinner at the Indian restaurant behind his apartment, or just calling each other on the phone, he knows what to say to fix things. You forget your life, and you get to be with him instead.

Spencer puts his mug of tea down to hug you. You'd known he was going to. It always happens like this, the two of you together, drinking tea and showing each other just the smallest fraction of each other's hearts. He presses his nose to your cheek as his hands run down the length of your back, and all you can think about is how he knows nearly everything about you and he holds you voluntarily.

“Love you, Spence,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“I love you too. I'm here for you, okay? I don't care how scared I am, I love being your friend.”

You try not to sigh. Friend isn't necessarily what you want to be, but he'd let you in when you buzzed without asking why you were dropping by, and he'd held your gaze as you explained the man who'd been following you, your dead phone, your superglued shoes fallen apart in the typhoon. Spencer's everything a person could ever need. Dependable, vulnerable, sweet, kind, patient. He's pretty in every facet of the word.

“Is it really that scary?”

“Thinking about guys following you home?” he asks, rubbing your back gently. “It's terrifying. Weren't you terrified?”

You blink back the sudden heat of emotion behind your eyes. “Um,” you say, higher than you mean, “uh, it wasn't–” You shrug, but your hands feel shaky and strange.

Spencer's voice softens, “Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry.”

You try not to think about what might've happened. When you realised there was someone following you, you didn't think, oh, he'll hurt me, you thought, I need to be faster. I need to get somewhere they can't.

You needed safety and Spencer was the first, safest place.

“I'm sorry for coming here.”

Spencer pushed you away from him without malice, his hands on your arms. Alarm rings his eyes, eyebrows rising, “What? Why would you say that?”

Because you didn't sign up for this. Because I'm me, and you're you, and you didn't have a choice, you were too good to let me be without you.

Because, if you think about it, Spencer is more than safety to you.

He doesn't baulk at your silence. “Hey,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing into the soft skin inside your elbow sweetly, “you like it here, don't you?” You nod. “Then– then who cares why you're here?”

Spencer pulls you into his arms again. “You'll feel better in the morning… I'm gonna get you a new phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Cos that one's always dead. You need to be able to call me when you need me.”

You smile into his shoulder. “You're not buying me a phone.”

“Watch me.”

You don't cry in his arms, but it's a weirdly close call.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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alwaysonthemend · 2 months

Text

Author's Note: Inspired by this wonderful post. Thank you so much @tripthelightfandomtastic for some incredibly sexy dialogue and @edgingthedarkness for calling it to my attention 🤭

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. Jake x fem!reader / rough sex / sir kink / unprotected p in v sex / digital penetration / oral / brief overstimulation / use of gag / some name calling (brat, slut) / minor cock warming at the end / begging / possessiveness (nothing too major) / please let me know if I missed anything.

Apologies for any typos/ spelling mistakes.

Enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I need to sleep for at least 12 hours tonight.” Jake tells his twin, patting his pockets for his wallet to pay the bill. “I’m exhausted.”

“Oh is that why you were being so pissy today?” Josh’s grin is smug as he finds his own wallet first and fishes his card out and tosses it onto the waiting bill before Jake can. “Makes sense.”

Jake’s eyes narrow and you fight a tiny smile, trying not to let your amusement show. Jake can be a little moody when he’s tired. And just… in general.

“I’m the pissy one?” Jake counters, flicking Josh’s card off the bill and placing his own there instead. “I seem to be remembering things a little differently.”

Jake’s tone is snarky – just a tiny bit more accusing than Josh’s had been. You already know that Jake had a… rough day today. He’d told you about it in the car – Josh had been demanding retake after retake and Sam had quote on quote, “disagreed with every fucking thing I said just for the hell of it.” In all honesty, knowing the Kiszkas, it had probably been all three of them being more difficult than necessary while Danny had to play mediator… Not that you’d said that to Jake. God, no. You’d only listened, allowing him to vent; nodded and frowned at the right moments. Clearly, tonight’s meal and a few drinks with Josh had done little to help Jake’s temper.

Josh opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt. “I’m going to run to the restroom.” Both sets of matching eyes flash to you as you speak. Josh grins and Jake nods, sliding out of the booth to allow you to exit.

In addition to his sour mood, Jake has been jittery the whole night. You’d noticed from the moment the two of you stepped into the bar that he had other things on his mind – whether it was a new song or riff or lyrics you couldn’t quite tell. But he was distracted. You know already how common it is that he grows restless, as if there’s so much energy buzzing beneath his skin that he’s hardly able to stand still. At first, it had almost been hard to be around when he got like this. His restlessness so palpable you could practically feel it coating your skin. At first, you would simply move to another room, allow him to sort himself out on his own. But after a little while, it became easier to tune him out – to still navigate around him when he gets like this. His aura has gravity of its own, you’ve come to discover. It’s hard to be apart from him for too long.

He’ll deny it if you ask him if something is wrong. He’ll say he’s fine – that he’s not upset about today anymore and that he’s acting perfectly normal. So you don’t bother asking. Instead, you simply allow his energy to wash over you as you watch him interact with his twin at the booth.

By the time you return, they seem to have momentarily put their little dispute on hold as they both turn to look at you as you approach the booth.

“Are you ready, love?” Jake’s voice is smooth – neutral. Betraying nothing of the chaos that you know lies within. “We paid the bill while you were gone.”

“Halfsies.” Josh supplies and Jake’s eyes cut to him for a moment before landing back on you. You nod, smiling at the two of them as they exit the booth in almost complete unison, each twin now holding himself in the exact same manner as the other as they prepare to leave. “It was nice actually getting to see you.” Josh continues as the three of you walk through the restaurant and to the door. “Jake always keeps you to himself when we’re home.”

Josh is teasing; you can tell by the slight dimple that has appeared on his left cheek as he speaks. But Jake tenses ever so slightly beside his twin as you all come to a stop on the sidewalk outside. The night air is warm – humid enough that it makes your skin feel sticky. The joys of a Tennessee summer.

“He can be just a little selfish, I suppose.” You answer back, thinking nothing of it. But again, that energy around Jake seems to increase, his chocolate eyes flashing in the light spilling out into the air from inside the bar.

“Am I not allowed to miss her when we leave?” Jake queries, slipping a heavy arm around your waist in such a way that it almost feels possessive. “Plus, I’m always stuck with you.” He says to his twin, grinning a little. “Who would blame me for wanting her to myself when we are home?”

Josh’s brow raises, a knowing glance shot towards you before he regards his twin. He senses Jake’s energy – the restlessness; senses that he could easily poke the bear and start a senseless argument that would no doubt descend into an actual fight. But he holds himself back, metaphorically biting his tongue as he gives Jake a little grin.

“Can’t blame you at all, brother. Not at all.” His grin turns a little wicked. “But maybe you should share her more often – she was my friend first, afterall.”

So perhaps he hadn’t decided against poking the bear afterall. You fight the smile that threatens to overtake you, realizing that now might not be the time to pick sides by agreeing with Josh. He had been the one to know you first. He’d been the one to introduce you to Jake, even. But Jake needs no reminder of that little fact right now.

“I see you plenty.” You offer, feeling the pointed squeeze of Jake’s fingers into your hip, “Plus, you constantly blow my phone up with texts. We talk plenty, Joshua.”

Josh grins and shrugs his shoulders, looking pleased anyway.

“Great seeing you.” Jake offers. “But I’m sick of you already.”

Josh laughs, completely unaffected by his brother’s words. He’s used to it. He knows deep down Jake doesn’t mean them… too much.

“Love you too, Jakey.” Josh grins at you – the exact same grin that Jake gave him just a moment ago. “Lovely to see you as always, Y/n. Hopefully someone lets me see you again before we leave.”

“I hope so, too.” You answer him, laughing just a little despite your best efforts.

Josh gives a theatrical sweeping bow before turning on his heel and disappearing to his Jeep, laughing the whole way. Jake scowls and tugs you away towards his own vehicle, that heavy arm still pointedly around your waist.

He opens your door for you, a soft “Princess” leaving his lips as he dips his head a little. You grin and climb into the car and he closes the door behind you.

Jake playing guitar is sinful. But Jake behind the wheel of a car? It’s downright indecent – something that no matter how many times you see it, it still gets you just a little. The thick muscles of his forearm twitch and move beneath his newly tan skin (thank you Europe tour) and the clench of his jaw as he watches the road has you clenching your thighs. To your credit, you only stare a little bit as he drives the two of you back to his house (His house, not yours. Something that once again feels pointed.) Neither of you speak much, the silence between the two of you just as comfortable as idle chit chat. Fleet Foxes flow softly from the speakers, filling the air between the two of you that seems to grow thicker and thicker with each passing moment.

“See something you like?”

You startle, eyes cutting up to see the curve of Jake’s lips as he continues staring out at the road ahead. Apparently you had been staring too much – enough for him to notice, anyway. Cheeks flushing, you shake your head in denial.

“Just thinking.”

His brow raises and it does nothing to quell the heat pooling in your lower belly. “About?” He urges you on, tilting his head as if to hear you better. You open your mouth to give a bullshit answer but he interrupts. “And don’t say work or the weather. I already know what you’re thinking.” Your jaw snaps shut. The fucker.

“If you know, then why did you ask?” Your tone comes out a little brattier than you meant it to and Jake’s fingers tighten on the wheel. Seems that Josh isn’t the only one who’s going to poke the bear tonight.

“Because I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

A sharp exhale is the only evidence you have that Jake heard you. Refusing to give you a response, he flicks on the blinker to turn onto his street in a way that somehow seems snarky. It doesn’t take long before he’s pulling into his driveway and putting the car in park. Dark eyes turn to you, looking almost black in the dim light of the car.

“Get out.”

His tone leaves no space for arguing and you quickly unbuckle and stumble out of the car. Jake doesn’t wait on you – crossing the driveway to the front door in long strides, fishing for his key from his pocket. As you follow, you admire the broadness of his shoulders, the dominance within his gait alone, and yet another thrill of anticipation curls down your spine and settles between your thighs. He opens the door, not even sparing a glance backwards at you. He knows you’re following, knows you’ll follow him into the very depths of Hell if he asked.

You expect him to pounce as the door closes. But instead, he merely slips his shoes off and places them neatly by the door. His keys and wallet are placed on the foyer table. Your shoes join his by the door. Then your purse on the hook. You walk deeper into the house, making your way into the kitchen – one eye on Jake as he moves about the space, orbiting you but not yet taking the step to touch you. It puts you on edge in an odd, delicious sort of way. He’s like a shark who’s scented blood; not yet going in for the kill, but instead waiting for the right moment to strike. You grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself a glass of water from the sink. The cool liquid doesn’t at all soothe the fire running through your veins.

Not a second after you place the glass on the counter, you finally feel the heat of him pressing up against your back. His arms circle your waist and his lips hover over the sensitive skin of your ear.

“I don’t mean to be so possessive.” He murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Or pissy. ‘m sorry.” He mumbles, voice low. The heat in your belly simmers just a little, easing into something softer for a moment.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You answer him, tilting your head to the side as his kisses trail softly down your neck.

Using his grip around your waist, Jake pulls you tighter against him. You tilt your head back towards him and he kisses you – soft but urgent. His hands caress your sides, your hips, then come up to cup your jaw as his tongue slips through your parted lips. He’s thorough, kissing you as if he’s savoring a meal.

“Why are you being so sweet?” You’d been fully expecting a night of Jake using you to get all his frustration and energy out – an occurrence that you were more than looking forward to. His sweetness is a welcome surprise, though not at all how you saw this night going.

He kisses along your jaw before seizing your earlobe between his teeth, nipping delicately before his mouth trails lower. His hips press into you and there’s no hiding the hard line of him in his pants, hot and pulsing against you.

“I just want you to know how much I love you,” He whispers against your neck, giving you more kisses, “and how much I respect you,” another kiss. “because I'm gonna fuck you like I hate you.”

All the air leaves your lungs and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. The earnestness and simplicity with which he utters such vulgarity is the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced, leaving your brain empty of anything beyond your desire for him. But he’s taking too long now, his sweet kisses no longer enough and leaving you hollow and aching for him to fulfill the promise of his warning. The words slip out from your lips unbidden.

“Why don’t you get the fuck on with it, then?”

His body goes rigid for one beat, maybe two, and then he spins you impossibly fast, a hand against your stomach, pressing you back into the wall. He captures your wrists with the other, holding them prisoner above your head.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He groans against your mouth and the rough timbre of his voice floods your veins with a wave of primal need for him. “This is the thanks I get for trying to be sweet to you?” His shoulders are tense, the muscles taut with pent up energy and frustration. You aren’t sure what it is that’s got him in such a state but you want to replace it all with lust. You want him to take it out on you – to give you the overwhelming pleasure that you know he’s capable of delivering. “Well?”

“Fuck me.” You demand in lieu of answering him and his eyes seem to come alive as his nostrils flare at your tone. “Sir.” You add, the word dripping with sarcasm, making a mockery of the title that he’s more than earned in the bedroom.

His breathing changes and there’s a war in his eyes that you’re determined to win. He leans down, his face only inches from yours. “I don't think you know what you’re asking for, Princess.” The nickname, the growl of his words rumbles up through his chest and every nerve ending in your body flares to life.

His mouth collides with yours in a kiss – a rough, demanding thing as he plunges his tongue between your lips, seizing your mouth as his. Lust strokes down your spine and wetness floods your panties as he takes your ass in his hands and hauls you up against his hips. Your back presses into the wall as you use it for leverage to get closer to him. You lock your legs around his waist as your hands settle on his shoulders, the muscles quivering beneath your touch.

Heat floods your body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of you aflame as his lips trail down the column of your throat, nipping and biting as he goes. But they aren’t gentle as they had been before – no, the sting of his teeth lets you know that your neck will be a mess in the morning, a painting of swirling purples and reds that will stand as testament to how far you pushed him tonight. The hedonistic, lecherous part of you is only excited further by the thought.

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Jake walks backwards and turns you. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him where he’s going, your back hits the kitchen table. He hadn’t used as much force as you know he could have, but Jake had placed you hard enough onto the wooden surface that the breath in your lungs freezes for a moment as you glance up at his looming figure above you. He presses in close, roughly gripping your knees and shoving them apart so that he can walk forward and take up the space between them.

“Hands above your head.” The words are rough – more of a growl than anything and you instantly comply, suddenly feeling unable to do anything other than what he asks of you. His fingers trail down your torso, his touch searing your skin even through the fabric of your blouse. His fingers trail underneath, slipping up your stomach and then behind your back. He tugs the blouse off you and onto the floor. With impressive skill, he then unhooks your bra behind your back and tosses it away as well, eyes now trained on the hard peaks of your nipples as you lay there exposed for him. He pauses, as if drinking in the sight of you, and impatience has you speaking before thinking once again.

“You just going to stand there and stare?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth you know that you’ve really done it now. Jake’s gaze turns wicked, his grin devilish, as he shakes his head at you.

“Y’know you’re lucky,” He begins, stepping back from you and unbuckling his belt. His fingers work slowly to pull it from his belt loops. When he at last gets it free, he reaches down and grips your hands where they rest obediently above your head, “that you’re so pretty. Otherwise I wouldn’t put up with that fucking mouth of yours.” Slowly, teasingly, he wraps the leather of his belt around your wrists and then cinches it tight, securing your wrists tightly together and then placing them back down onto the table above your head.

Your body tingles with sinful pleasure and excitement at the feeling of being bound, at being kept where he wants you. Despite your mouth saying things before you can think them through, you desperately want to please the man above you. You want to worship him, to give him anything and everything he could ever ask of you. You begin to respond to him but he silences you with a heavy hand over your mouth.

“Careful, Princess. Before I make you shut up with my cock, yeah?” Eyes wide, you nod and Jake lifts his hand with a satisfied nod. “What do you say to me?”

“Yes sir.” The words are shaky, thick with lust. It takes all your focus to make your brain form the words, to make your lips form the correct sounds. You can hardly think beyond the lust swirling inside your head.

Jake doesn’t reward you with praise for your compliance as he normally would and disappointment trickles through you for the briefest of moments. But then his mouth is on your nipple, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still. He bites down and you whimper, core pulsing as his tongue swirls around the hard bud to soothe the sting. Then he’s trailing lower, searing kisses working their way down your belly until he reaches the waistband of your skirt. Jake bunches the fabric up around your hips, exposing your damp panties for him to admire. You wish desperately that he would take the damn skirt off completely but you know that you’re in no position to be making requests.

“Look at you.” His words are honey sweet, dripping with thinly veiled desire. You can feel his hot breath on your clothed heat, his white teeth flashing as he grins up at you smugly. “You’ve ruined these poor things, haven’t you?”

You whimper as he trails the pad of his finger over your clothed clit, causing your hips to jump up towards his hand. Jake hooks his fingers in your panties with his left hand, shoving the fabric to the side – clearly unwilling to even take the time to pull them all the way off you. Then his other hand is hovering over your center, fingers running through your slick as he hums in approval. Without any more warning, he plunges a finger inside of you, curling upwards deliciously and instantly finding that spot inside of you that drives you crazy.

You cry out, back arching up off the wooden table. Your hands lift up off the table and then slam back downwards, anything else feeling uncomfortable thanks to Jake’s belt keeping them bound.

“So responsive.” Jake shows no mercy, quickly sinking another finger inside of you. Distantly, your foggy mind realizes that – even though he promised to fuck you like he hates you, you know that he would never do anything without properly prepping you first. If you were able to focus on anything other than his fingers, you might have thanked him. Instead, all you can do is moan as he works you masterfully with his fingers.

“Jake.” You plead as he abuses your sweet spot over and over, keeping you hovering over the edge of release. “Jake, please.” You beg again as he gives no indication that he’s heard you other than grinning devilishly. “Jake, I can’t- I need-” The words won’t form right no matter how hard you try, the agonizing pleasure proving to be too much.

“I know exactly what you need.” Jake answers darkly, “But you’re not asking nicely, are you?”

Eyes clenched shut, you shake your head frantically. “Please, sir?” You try instead, hips bucking forward to try and find some sort of friction. “Please make me cum? Please, please, sir.” Even to your own ears you sound pathetic but you can’t be bothered to care. All you can think about is how badly you need to cum, how incredible his fingers feel. All you can think about is Jake. “Sir, please-”

“Enough.” Jake’s fingers leave you, and you whimper loudly in protest. But you’re silenced as Jake suddenly tugs even harder on your panties. The fabric digs harshly into your skin, and then you hear the sound of fabric tearing. Jake rips them from you, and then he’s shoving the ruined fabric into your gaping mouth, silencing you as the taste of your own arousal floods your tongue. Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare at him.

Jake, looking entirely too smug and pleased with himself, eases his fingers back into your aching cunt and has you back to the edge in mere seconds, your whimpers and cries muffled by the panties shoved between your lips. Finally, Jake’s mouth descends onto your clit, his fingers never once slowing or faltering as he sucks your clit mercilessly. Your orgasm swoops in – quick, overwhelming, the pleasure white hot as it rocks through your body. Muscles quivering, you scream through your make-shift gag as Jake moans into your pussy, his eyes closing as if the taste of you is a gourmet meal.

When at last he pulls away, you're left there in a daze – aching for more of him already. Clearly just as desperate to feel you fully, Jake grips your hips and brings your ass to the edge of the table. With impressive speed Jake rips his shirt off over his head and then even quicker has his trousers off and discarded to the floor.

His cock – achingly hard and the head glistening with precum, has your mouth watering. He steps between your legs once more and instinctively your legs wrap around his waist, bringing your slick pussy to rsst his beautiful cock. Jake hikes your skirt up higher to your belly and then his left hand finds your hip – his grip bruising. Gripping his length in the other, Jake runs his cock through your folds, gathering your slick before nudging the blunt head against your entrance.

“Fuckin’ take it.” He growls, sheathing himself fully inside of you at last. Jake groans deeply and you moan the best you can through your gag. Giving you no time at all to adjust, Jake’s pace is immediately brutal. After three hard thrusts, his cock brushing against your sweet spot each time thanks to the angle of your hips, the sting of him quickly bleeds into pleasure. The table creaks and groans beneath you, the legs screeching against the kitchen floor as Jake pounds into you.

"Such a slut." Jake groans, but somehow he makes the word seem like a compliment. The wet squelching sound coming from between your legs would be embrassing if Jake didn't look like he could fall apart already. "You like it when I treat you like this?"

You nod frantically in answer, loving every second and still wanting more.

"'Course you do." The words escape through gritted teeth, his voice shaky despite the hard persona he's putting on. "Shit, Y/n."

Jake’s gaze falls down between the two of you, eyes trained on where he moves in and out of you, his skin growing shiny with sweat. His hair sticks to his temples and the side of his neck, his necklaces swinging and clinking in the air between the two of you. “Look so fucking good stretched around my cock.”

You can’t answer, the feel of him moving inside of you too perfect to think of anything else. Jake’s hips slap against yours, his impressive stamina allowing his pace to remain fast, mercilessly, without faltering for even a second. It doesn’t take long for the heat simmering in your lower belly to rise, your body plummeting once again, head first, towards your second orgasm. Jake’s mouth is open, his brows furrowing as his own release draws nearer and nearer. His hand reaches up and pulls your ruined panties from your mouth at last and instantly your cries – once muffled, echo throughout the room along with the sound of Jake’s skin slapping against yours.

“Say my name when you cum.” Jake orders, his thumb finding your clit and circling the swollen bud. His touch isn’t gentle – the pace just as brutal as the pace of his hips slamming into yours. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you scream Jake’s name, the muscles in your body convulsing violently.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Y/n.” Jake’s pace finally begins to falter as your walls clench around him. Jake’s left hand braces against the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. A litany of curses and groans fills the air as Jake spills inside of you, the feeling of his hot release making your eyes roll back. Your body burns with pleasure – pleasure that is dangerously close to bleeding into hot agony from overstimulation.

Finally, Jake stills, his cock softening inside of you as he breathes out shakily, one hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Still staying inside of you, the feeling of him there somehow comforting, Jake reaches up and unbinds your wrists. He brings each one to his lips in turn, kissing the red skin where the leather had been digging into you.

“I love you.” He offers, his brown eyes now regarding you with a soft, almost sympathetic look. “My princess.” His fingers gently trace over your lips, his touch reverent.

“Love you more.” You murmur tiredly,

“Impossible.”

<fin>

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