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ryescapades · 14 days

Note

hi hello how are you?? i would like to request a yor forger!reader with hoshina where it's friends to fake marriage if that's alright?

they both agreed to the arrangement just to get their families' pestering off their back, but they ended up catching feelings in the process.

basically married shenanigans with pining hoshina with his insanely strong (fake) spouse in the third division 🔥🔥🔥

thorny predicament | kaiju no. 8

characters: hoshina soshiro x fem yor forger!reader

genre/warning: fluff, fake marriage, idiot to lovers? pining, this is more like a character study i think, mixed use of present and past tenses (don't mind my grammar guys pls)

a/n: hi hii i’m doing well tq for asking and requesting dear anon ! sorry for the delay and i hope this is to your liking :3 it's been so long since i first watched spy x family so i'm sorry if the yor characterization is a bit butchered :c 2.98k wc

"ya have been quite distracted in battles lately. any problem we should be aware of, y/n?"

almost stumbling on the kaiju carcass on the ground, you let out a startled yelp at the voice. you switch your attention from the gun in your hands to the man behind you, holding in the grimace from showing on your face.

"vice-captain! apologies, um... i'm just exhausted, i promise!" you laugh, though you can't help but to cringe inwardly at how obviously forced the sound was.

hoshina gives you a long, scrutinizing stare. he then glances at your surrounding, making sure no one is around to eavesdrop. "alright, i know somethin' is wrong with ya. out with it," he presses. you make a gesture with your hand, attempting to brush it off. "no, no, i'm fine, sir! it's nothing, really—"

"it's just us here, y/n." hoshina cuts you off, mildly bothered that you're still addressing him in a formal way.

realizing you have no way out of this, you sigh in defeat. "it's my parents again... and their marriage shenanigans. they've been pushing me about it and if i don't make any progress, they'll have me do an omiai soon," you huff, kicking at a stray pebble on the asphalt.

born into a family who valued tradition above all, you've already known that you're going to be subjected to it soon enough. sure, your parents are proud that you're always out there saving the country, but true to their beliefs, there's no way they'd allow you to die a lonely maiden.

but for it to be conducted this early? you almost tear your hair out at the thought. you can barely cook anything to save your life!

knowing your parents, they'd probably pick your potential suitors from family friends or the sons of people they're close with at work. how can you stop that from happening, you wonder... hm, would eliminating them work? maybe let a honju go rampant near their houses— wait, no, no, stop! don't go there, y/n!

meanwhile, hoshina's eyes widen, blissfully unaware of your inner deviant thoughts. he's reminded of his own conversation he had with his father just a few weeks ago. it was exactly the same thing.

well, not that exactly.

his father only talked about how old he's getting and how nice it'd be to see some kids running around in the family estate. in other words, he's hoping for grandchildren.

hoshina vividly remembers the old man saying he 'doesn't want to bother soichiro because he's busy running a division'. he scoffs to himself. as if his job as a second-in-command isn't as important.

and as if he'd agree to marry some random woman his father picked for him anyway. because deep down in his heart, there's only one person he could see himself tying the knot with. though he never really indulges himself to acknowledge that fact, too afraid of what it could mean and the uncertainty of it to work out.

he watches as you continue to fuss over your dissatisfaction at the poor concrete below, panicking about the possibilities of getting a perverted and alcoholic old man as a husband and whatnot.

there's a notion in his head, it’s bugging him to voice it aloud. an idea, a way to dissolve this messed up situation the two of you have been thrown into.

and so he finds himself saying, "mind stopping by my office after we wrap up this operation?"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"i— we... excuse me?" you sputter in disbelief, gaping at your superior who's calmly leaning his hip against the desk behind him. you think this is the first time you've ever been this speechless in your whole life.

understandably, of course. never would you have thought that your family issues were something you can relate to that of hoshina's. and it's not every day you find yourself hearing your good friend suddenly proposes that you two get married. it's only a fake marriage though. but still.

"i know ya heard me the first time, y/n. don't make me repeat myself," hoshina gruffly says, shifting in his stance. little do you know there's a trail of cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

the line between your brows deepens even further. "sorry, it's just... i honestly don't know how to respond. are you sure you're up for something like that, hoshina?" you question.

"i wouldn't have brought it up if i'm not up to it. are you?"

you continue to ponder over your options, slightly stressing out because of how impetuous everything is.

it’s not like you think the idea is bad, no. if anything, you’d finally get to push your parents— and your whole family, in fact— off your back. god knows how many more ‘you’re getting old, y/n. it’s not good to marry so late. you’d lose your appeal as a woman, do you understand?’ you could take from your mother before you completely lose your mind.

your femininity is alright, but you don't think you'd make a fine wife-material out of yourself. then again, you're too much of a kind soul to outright say no to your parents about it. lying to them is a no-go either, for they'd always known how bad you are at lying and how hard it is for you to keep up the act.

it’s clear that the burdens of being a daughter in a family such as yours are too much for a benign spirit such as yourself to bear.

another thing is that your parents had once emphasized to take anyone but a defense force officer as your spouse. again, highlighting the fact that they don’t want you to suffer the despairing fate of a soldier; losing a partner in battle.

it’s not just that. there’s the case with hoshina too, where you think your relationship with him has always been in the grey area. you two are considerably close, though you’d rather describe it in a more-than-coworkers but less-than-best friends kind of way, given how the two of you have never actually confided in each other about something explicitly personal as this. so basically, this is the first time you’ve heard him confessing such problems to you.

apart from that, there were also some of those moments where you’d catch him doing something that threatened the thin, fragile line of your relationship. it’d send your mind into an impasse every time it happened, making you question about it more times than you’d care to admit.

although with that being the reason, you still end up agreeing to his proposal, knowing fully well the arrangement can bring you both mutual benefits.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the day you formally introduce yourself to the hoshina family turns out rather smooth. the meeting with your parents, however...

you don't think you've ever been this nervous before. not when you held your first ever presentation in school, not when you were anticipating your jakdf acceptance letter, and definitely not when you fought your first kaiju.

another first experience added to the list of that involving hoshina soshiro...

simply put, the entire meeting was nerve-wrecking.

as expected, your parents were skeptical with your so-called husband of choice. they interrogated the hell out of him, asking this and that, commenting on every little thing about him with the intention to see him squirm in his seat.

but you know hoshina. he's confidant, undeterred and he knows how to handle his opponents well. with honeyed, dialect-thickened answers slipping from his tongue at every turn, your parents gradually warm up to him.

if only you knew the praises he had uttered about you all came from his honest heart.

since then, your relationship with hoshina grows closer, born out of correlative understanding and acknowledgment towards your newly shared status as each others' spouses. both of your parents have dwindle down a bit with their pestering, now opting to support you two in their own ways.

hoshina becomes a tad bit more bold with his gestures too. he grazes his hand a lot more with yours, stands a bit closer to you until your shoulders brush, suspiciously eyeing men who he thinks were looking at you wrongly. he even asked captain ashiro to let him have the same meal times and off-duty hours as you.

"you called for me, captain ashiro— oh, vice-captain hoshina, you're here too!" you salute just as you step into the captain's office.

hoshina gives you an easy smile, one which you gladly mirror as you stand beside him in front of ashiro's desk, now consciously aware of the engagement ring you wore as a necklace hidden beneath your uniform and a complementary one you know is looped around his neck.

"at ease, y/n. i just called to ask whether you'd be alright with having a schedule change starting next week?" ashiro asks straight away, her attention still fixed on the papers in front of her.

your brows raise in confusion. "um... respectfully speaking, captain, since when do i have a say in something like this? i thought that's only for you to decide?"

"well, seeing as hoshina is the one who requested it, it's only right that i properly ask consent from you first, since it's your work hours we're discussing about here." she says.

ashiro then continues, not giving you and your 'husband' a chance to utter a single reply, "besides that, i'm quite surprised you're still calling him by his last name, given that you're also a hoshina now, y/n."

thoroughly amused, the captain revels in the way the two of you blush almost simultaneously, turning away from each other in bashfulness after being called out.

right, you forgot captain ashiro is the first person to know about the true nature of your relationship... and yet despite that, she genuinely roots for you two, praying that someday hoshina will eventually confess his painfully deep-rooted feelings for you.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

hoshina enjoys watching you in action. polite and kind personality off the field but with impeccable fighting abilities, your unleashed force could soar through the roof on a good day, and your hand-to-hand combat skills are considered on par with his own. not to mention your extremely high agility and fast reflexes, hoshina has rarely seen any kaiju catching you off guard mid-fight.

in short, you're strong. monstrously so.

he's reminded of that fact during one celebration party, where you've emptied one too many glasses, drunk out of your mind to even think straight.

"you know, soshiro-kun... this is like the best decision i've ever made! like, ever!!" you slur in between hiccups, cheeks flushed as your heavy eyes shine brightly at him.

your husband's slanted eyes crinkle at the corners in clear ardor, though you never noticed it due to your intoxicated state. "what decision? you mean drinkin' till you're all trashed and plastered like this?" he drawls with a teasing lilt in his tone.

hoshina lets you drunkenly lean the entirety of your weight on his side, an arm hovering just above your figure in case you fall over. choosing to indulge himself a bit, he rests his cheek on your head, taking in the soft scent of your shampoo.

most of the others celebrating around you don't even bat an eye, already used to the sight of you and the vice-captain being so physically close together. the new recruits never asked about your relationship. they just assume that you're already dating since they've seen you two like this even before they got officially appointed as officers.

though they have no idea how unbearably frustrating it was for the older members of the division to keep watching their vice-captain pine for you for years now.

one is hopeless, and the other is oblivious. it's sickening.

"ehhh, me? drunk? no, no! the decision is me marrying you, of course! i'm so happy i said yes to you that day! cheers to my lovely husband, guys!" you giddily hoot, raising another glass in the air before downing it all in one gulp.

and then chaos ensues.

shocked exclaims of "you two are married already?!", "wait, why was i not invited??", "since when?!", and among others fill the already rowdy hall.

hoshina internally combusts, his ears burning hot for he doesn't expect you to suddenly reveal your status like that but you seem so delighted about it that he doesn't have the heart to deny anything.

at the table beside you, furuhashi shouts in victory, "hah! i told you guys l/n-san and vice-captain hoshina are together! pay up, suckers!"

the swordsman raises a thin eyebrow at the new discovery. "that's quite a bet y'all made there. think some good extra laps could fit in somewhere?" he provokes.

the newbies sit upright, body rigid as they're about to send apologies his way but then you cut them all off.

"l/n? soshiro, you had a partner before me? am i getting in between your relationship?" you shakily ask in your hazy stupor, barely able to get your words out correctly as you jerk back, tears pooling in your eyes.

hoshina halts, finally realizing that you're too far gone to grasp that they were talking about you. "wait, what? that's not—" he tries to console, but you move fast, more so now that you're drunk. "no, don't touch me! i'm not a man-stealer, i swear!" you cry out.

before anyone can say or do anything, your fist connects with his jaw, so strong and forceful that the sound echoes in the hall as everyone else freeze in their spot, almost in horror at the spectacle.

the powerful yet underserving hit left hoshina's pretty face sporting a nasty bruise for the next few days, and it got you apologizing every chance you get.

nonetheless, at least he finds it endearing that you're not the type to handle your liquor well.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

another thing hoshina adores about you is that you're protective of the ones you care about.

he can distinctly recall the sagamihara neutralization operation when officers furuhashi and ichikawa had stumbled upon the humanoid version of no.9.

after losing connection with the two boys, you knew something was wrong at that moment. deciding to trust your instincts, you immediately head towards their last reported location, hoshina's concerned warnings from your earpiece going unheeded.

relief washed through you when you managed to arrive on time, though the sight of two direly injured officers made something boil deep inside your stomach.

your heart leaped to your throat when you see no. 9 with its hand out towards furuhashi, seconds away from blowing him to bits. with an enraged vigor, you lunged towards the man, pulling him behind you and aiming your gun at the monster before straight away pulling the trigger.

furuhashi cried out your name but you felt your pulse quicken then, not because of the daikaiju's hand separating from its arm and its core almost exposed due to your piercingly pin-point shot, but because of the figure appearing just behind no. 9. it was kaiju no. 8.

the next thing you knew, no. 9's head was flying away, and you held furuhashi closer, your aim changing its direction to the new humanoid kaiju. "keep still, furuhashi." you grit your teeth when you felt him stagger behind you, eyes narrowing warily at the way no. 8 gently handled ichikawa to sit up.

you wanted to question how it was possible for a kaiju to act in such a humanely way, but you figured that was something to be figured out later, as you now have two wounded officers to worry about.

hours later, as the mission came to an end, you approached hoshina who was seated on the ground with a sullen look on his face. "soshiro?" you called.

your husband immediately turned at the sound of your voice, clambering to a stand and dusting off his suit. "y/n! you're fine, thank gods," he exhaled before fussing over you, peering here and there to make sure you're not injured anywhere. "you're crazy, you know that? runnin' off to face against two daikaijus like that. ya had me worried sick!"

your fingers mindlessly fidget with the ring necklace, heart melting at his concerned sentiment. "sorry... i was worried too, you know. to hear furuhashi and ichikawa-kun getting isolated with an identified kaiju like that. they're under my care so i have to be responsible for their lives. and then you just had to go off and fight no. 8 on your own!" you huffed.

finding solace in his safety and well-being, you dropped your head to his shoulder and brought his own ring close to brush a kiss on the smooth surface of the glinting metal. "but i'm glad you're safe, soshiro," you murmured quietly.

when a tense silence greeted you, you slightly winced as embarrassment slipped into your conscious thoughts.

were you making him feel uncomfortable? fuck, you shouldn't have done that. you're just his fake wife, you don't have any right to succumb yourself to such intimacy with him.

you moved to pull away, but a palm situated itself on the back of your head, making you settle back on his shoulder. the hand felt warm, and so did hoshina's ears, cheeks, neck and anywhere his blood rush could reach.

"soshiro...?" your voice muffled on the material of his suit. his grip on you tightened just a little, an airy whisper of "stay," brushing against your ear almost affectionately. slowly, you snaked your arms around his back, burying yourself further into his welcoming embrace.

hoshina's mind seemed to settle. calm like the ocean waves during a slack tide, rustling like the tree leaves on a bright, sunny day. his feelings for you grew tenfold, adoration and love blossoming like flowers on a ripe spring season.

at that time, all he could think about is how much he desperately wanted to make you his real wife.

no official wedding ceremony written bcs my brain just couldn't come up with anything TT also i wanted to add more tension-filled scenes BUT I'M SO BRAINDEAD HELP I WANNA CRY

anyways, title inspired by yor's nickname, thorn princess hehe

—

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

307 notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 8 months

Note

Hello can you make lando x reader where landi first meet our reader as as drifting competition like someone tag him and he see reader one of contestant and he was like so shock when he he see reader do drift and be like fan-boy mode

Tokyo Drift. (LN)

hi! sorry this is a little late, i hope an smau is fine? lmk tho, i can make a little fic or hc too! i hope you like it!!

pairing: lando norris x drifter!reader!fem

summary: reader is apart of Formula DRIFT, and her fans ship her and lando. (sorry thats the summary, but enjoy!)

fc: emilia.nia

warnings: none

masterlist -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: yourbsf, olliebearman, and 91,108 others

y/n.user: check my insta story/highlight for a new drifting vid in tokyo 🇯🇵❤️🤍

view comments…

driftingvids6: the car😍😍

user3: hi *louder than everyone else*

ln4edits: @landonorris needs to watch her vids! she’s so good

↳ f1fp11: frrr @landonorris she’s the best

y/nfp.88: guys, drift mom posted

yourbsf: can’t tell whats hotter, you or the car

↳ y/n.user: my tires 😮‍💨

↳ yourbsf: omg true 🤭

cschili55: she’s so pretty!! and the drifting??omg

driftqueen7: marry meeeeee

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 982,194 others

landonorris: tokyooooo❤️🤍

view comments…

y/nsog.fp5: the red and white hearts? yeah, that’s our girls’ colors, we aren’t stupid mr. norris

user1: he went to go see y/n fr fr

f1updates: max and lando, our favorite duo!

maxfewtrell: i love it here

↳ landonorris: who doesn’t love tokyo

ln4quad4: cars cars cars 😍

driftingpage: who wants to bet that he went and watched y/n?

↳ y/nsogfp: BROOOO he def did omgggg

user8: now that max has a gf, lando needs a new wag

↳ drift4ever: @y/n.user ….

↳ user8: @y/n.user

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

landos instagram story:

seen by: y/n.user, danielricciardo, and 872,103 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: landonorris, carmenmmundt, and 103,293 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Twitter:

Lando Updates @ln4updates • 3hr ago

Lando Norris is currently in Tokyo, Japan with Max Fewtrell and Max’s girlfriend, Pietra Pilao. Lando posted on his story with Y/n Y/l/n as well.

Y/n is apart of Formula DRIFT, she has been since 2019. She also drifts in Tokyo a lot with some of her friends!

Rumors are spreading that Lando and Y/n have been seen having dinner a few times this week🤔What do you think?

↳ DRIFT FanPage @fdriftfp • 3hr ago

I love Y/n and Lando so much, I think they would be a cute couple! My two fav drivers? Yes please!!

↳ Amanda @friendsenthusiast • 2hr ago

Y/n and Pietra content WHEN?!

↳ Landos Fits @ln4outfits • 2hr ago

They are really hard launching huh? But I’m here for it. I think they would be a power couple.

↳ Jackson Talks @jax99talk • 2hr ago

Sure, but…why do we have to ship them? I mean, I get they would be cute, but Y/n already has a bf. Me. So like, bye asf

↳ Gracie @gracietalksf1 • 2hr ago

LMAOOO you really got me for a second there, Jackson

↳ Jackson Talks @jax99talk • 1hr ago

Its not even believable, is it…?🤕

↳ Gracie @gracietalksf1 • 48mins ago

Nah, babe, it’s not 💓😍

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, francisca.cgomes, and 158,127 others

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell, pietra.pilao

y/n.user: new york outtakes 😉

view comments…

landonorris: 😏❤️‍🔥

↳ y/n.user: 🤭❤️‍🔥

↳ maxfewtrell: gag me

↳ pietra.pilao: getting freaky in the comments??

user3: THE EMOJIS?? THE COMMENTS?? HELOO??

y/ndriftposts: our drifting mom is j hard launching rn guys

carmenmmundt: fits are always so good!!

↳ y/n.user: ty carm <3

↳ carmenmmundt: <33

ln4edits: UGH i love them already

f1wags: we’ve arrived. so..do we add y/n to the page?

*liked by creator*

↳ user7: Y/N LIKED IT???? OMG CONFIRMED?!

ogf1fp7: needed this today tbh

alexandrasaintmleux: prettyyy❤️❤️

↳ y/n.user: you you you❤️❤️

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: landonorris, lilymhe, and 125,293 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, oscarpiastri, and 1,281,923 others

tagged: y/n.user

landonorris: my home in three different seasons ❤️‍🔥

view comments…

y/n.user: i love my f1 driver bf

↳ landonorris: i love my formula drift gf

f1wags: WOAHHHH SHES SO PRETTY IM FLOORED

y/nfp8: MOTHER!!!!!!!

danielricciardo: finally got a girlfriend?

↳ landonorris: yes, the best one ever

↳ y/n.user: 😁

↳ danielricciardo: cheesing😁

↳ landonorris: of course she’s cheesing😮‍💨

↳ y/n.user: 🤭

user2: in love with their love

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

774 notes · View notes

pure-smut · 25 days

Note

Hello, it's me again :3

I want to ask you if you can write about Sako, Togame and Suo's love language.

Maybe both smut and sfw or when it's too much you decide :3

love languages.

featuring: Togame Jo, Hayato Suo

contains: established relationships, mild somnophilia from Togame, cunnilingus, implied multiple rounds, fingering and nipple play

word count: 800

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

masterlist

a/n: ty for this request!! i tried to do Sako but i rly struggled with his character, i think i need to rewatch windbreaker lmao im sorry but i hope you enjoy togame and suo!!

Togame Jo // quality time

Togame’s favourite time of the week is when he gets to spend time with you.

He’s usually busy during the week but he always makes sure to carve out his weekend for you, dedicating his whole time to being with you. It means when he comes home late when you’re already asleep or when he sleeps through most of the day, you don’t mind so much. Because you know at the end of the week, you’ll have him all to yourself.

Togame comes home late on a Friday night but he’s always up before you on a Saturday morning. He wakes you up slowly, taking his time with you as he drags his tongue across your clothed pussy. His grip on your thighs is soft as he nudges your panties to the side, getting his first real taste of you. Your eyes flutter open as his tongue is buried in your cunt, his strong nose bumping against your clit.

“G-Good morning, Jo,” you breathe, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair as you grind back against his face.

Togame hums in response, tongue lapping at your hole. You’re still sleepy, your pleasure building slowly even as Togame deftly eats you out, but neither of you mind. Your weekends always consist of this – of slow, languid sex as Togame spends as much time as possible prolonging your pleasure. He’s never in any rush, knows he has two full days to draw multiple orgasms from you, knows you’ll take as many loads as he gives you.

Togame pulls himself away from between your legs, crawling up to you with a lazy grin on his face. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Togame lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance. You feel it nudge past your puffy lips, teasingly close.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” Togame asks, smile still playing on his lips.

You know he doesn’t mean just now. He means for the whole weekend. By the time Sunday evening comes around, you both know you’ll be a limp, breathless mess, a familiar ache between your legs as Togame’s cum paints your body.

And you’ll both treasure every second.

“I’m ready,” you whisper back as Togame sinks himself inside you.

Hayato Suo // acts of service

Suo knows you’ve had a long day. You dragged yourself through the door of your shared apartment and sat down with a huff on the couch next to him. So, without asking, Suo’s made you a cup of your favourite tea and brought your favourite snack over. He places them both on the coffee table before sitting back down with a smile.

“Thank you.” You press a grateful kiss against his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Suo hums happily and pulls you towards him.

“Only the best for you,” he replies.

Your couch is large and L-shaped so Suo sits in the corner section, his legs outstretched before him as he manoeuvres you to sit between his legs. You do so, feeling your back flush to his chest as you lean back against him. He’s solid and warm behind you and you already feel your sore muscles loosen slightly.

“That’s it,” Suo whispers soothingly in your ear. “Let me help you relax.”

Suo presses featherlight kisses against the crook of your neck as his hands run up the sides of your arms. You close your eyes and tilt your head back against his shoulder, melting into him.

Suo loves doing this for you. Loves taking care of you with little regard for himself, although he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying touching you like this.

He uses his knees to hook under your legs, spreading them for him. His hand travels over your stomach and down under the waistband of your shorts while the other slides under your top to cup one of your tits.

You moan lightly, reaching up behind you to card your fingers through the hair at the nape of Suo’s neck. He keeps up the gentle kisses against the skin just under your ear as he tweaks one of your nipples, making a jolt of pleasure surge through you. His other hand uses your slick to trace frictionless circles against your clit.

You have the urge to turn around, you return the favour to Suo but you know from experience he won’t let you. For Suo, this is the same as making you tea or planning your dates – he wants to serve you.

So you relax back into him, letting Suo slide his long fingers between your folds as he buries them inside you. You moan and tighten your grip on his hair as he fingers you, finding the sensitive spot inside you that has you gushing down his palm.

Because you know this is how Suo shows you how much he loves you.

masterlist

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zhaobear · 2 months

Text

a perfect match

PAIRING : sung hanbin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, college au, barista au, mild enemies/rivals to lovers au, sick fic

WORD COUNT : 4310 words

SUMMARY : you and sung hanbin complement each other perfectly, whether it's behind the coffee bar or during late nights in your dorm building. however, companionship quickly turns to competition as the end of the year approaches — and with that, the glorious title of employee of the year. but when hanbin falls sick, you decide you can put your feud aside for one day.

WARNINGS : profanity, brief mentions of drinking, one slightly heated kiss, mc is competitive, hanbin is messing with her, jiwoong is just there, injeolmi toast reference, there are interspersed flashbacks in italics & one tense change!

AUTHOR'S NOTE : helloo making my zeroseblr debut!! thank you so much to anyone who reads i hope you enjoy <3 a huge huge thank you to @jayflrt and @s7toru for the support and encouragement, i don't think i'd be publishing this without them!

“HANBIN DIDN’T COME IN TODAY,” Jiwoong says in lieu of a greeting as soon as you enter the back of the store.

You flip through the café’s records book, noting down your time of arrival. Jiwoong can yap about Sung Hanbin all he wants, but you won’t let that stop you from getting paid.

“What does that have to do with me?” You shoot back, tying up your apron.

Jiwoong shrugs. “You guys are close, right? I thought you’d know what’s up.”

You scoff. You and Hanbin may have been close once, but that was before he started coming for your position.

“Keep it up, Hanbin!” Jiwoong claps Hanbin on the shoulder as he finishes taking a customer’s order. “Engaging with customers and making them feel connected to the store is one of our most important values.”

“Thanks, Jiwoong,” Hanbin beams, the sight of his dimples causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach, for whatever strange reason. That is, until Jiwoong’s next words.

“With how much improvement you’re making, you might just be up for Employee of the Year.” Jiwoong winks. Your jaw drops to the floor. Jiwoong doesn’t notice your mouth hanging open and simply returns to making drinks like he didn't just shatter your entire world.

“What the hell!” You call out indignantly. “Why would he get Employee of the Year?”

Jiwoong turns to look at you like he’s just remembering your presence for the first time.

“Well, Hanbin’s been learning very quickly since he joined. He’s made a lot of improvement and the customers love him.”

“He served a frozen sandwich the other day!” You cry out. You remember it clearly — the customer had approached you with a furious glint in her eyes, demanding to know why her sandwich wasn’t heated. Hanbin had popped up behind you to apologize for his mistake, and a blush immediately overtook her face as she shoved the sandwich into her mouth, claiming she preferred it frozen anyway.

“That was last week! I’m a changed man now,” Hanbin insists.

“The award should not go to him,” You splutter at Jiwoong. “I can talk to customers too!” You shove Hanbin away as the next customer in line approaches the register.

“Hi, could I please get an iced matcha latte, and a—”

“Hi, how was your day?” You interrupt loudly. Jiwoong slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle a poorly-contained laugh. The girl’s eyes go wide as she takes in your expression, her gaze flitting nervously between you and the door, like she’s considering bolting out of the shop.

“Sorry, don’t mind her. She means well,” a smooth voice interrupts. Hanbin slides back to his position on the register, his hand circling your waist as he gently eases you to the side.

You huff. “I can handle myself on register!”

Hanbin’s hand shifts to your lower back as he leans over to whisper to you. “You’re staring the poor girl down like she just murdered your family. I got this.”

True to his words, the girl visibly relaxes when Hanbin takes over and begins to make conversation. Your cheeks grow hot at the gesture. You should be angry, but Hanbin’s hand is warm on you and his shoulder is knocking into yours and you can’t seem to think straight.

Hanbin leans close again, and your brain short-circuits.

“I’m coming for your award,” he breathes cheekily into your ear.

The giddy feeling in your chest immediately dies on the spot.

You scowl at the memory, your knuckles turning white as you tie the strings of your apron tighter. Jiwoong raises an eyebrow, reminding you of his question.

“I’m not speaking to him anymore.” You have to hold back from crossing your arms like an angry child.

“You were fighting him over the register on Wednesday,” Jiwoong points out.

“A lot can change in three days.”

Jiwoong sighs. “Seriously, do you know what’s up? He hasn’t called or texted at all.”

That makes you pause. Ever since your current feud with Sung Hanbin, he became particularly more committed to “beating” you at work, whether it was clocking in earlier than you, going beyond the necessary opening requirements, or covering more shifts than usual. For him to not show up to work without any prior notice or explanation — maybe there is something wrong.

You relent. “I’ll go check up on him after my shift, okay?”

A Cheshire grin spreads across Jiwoong’s face. “So much extra effort,” he muses.

“We live in the same building,” you deadpan. You check your hair in the small mirror on the wall before heading to the front of the store for your shift.

“I didn’t even tell you to go check up on him!” Jiwoong calls to your back. You give him the finger in return.

“Hanbin, open up!” You yell, pounding on his door for what feels like the millionth time. You press your ear to the wood, but hear absolutely nothing.

“I can see your Snap location!”

Then, a rustle.

You hear the creak of a bed, and the sound of soft footsteps gradually approaching closer. The door swings open, revealing Sung Hanbin in his pajamas.

“You were in bed the whole time?” You shriek. “Jiwoong was worried sick! He was acting like you dropped off the face of the Earth when you didn’t contact anyone!”

Hanbin wordlessly turns around, making a beeline away from the door. You huff, following him inside his dorm without another thought.

“You’re just going to leave when I’m talking to you? Look, I get it if you don’t want to interact with me, but you shouldn’t ghost your manager. Isn’t that—”

Hanbin stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door shut on you. Realization dawns upon you when you hear retching from the other end. The puzzle pieces slot into place — his glazed eyes, paler-than-usual face, and complete lack of energy.

“Hanbin?” You ask, your voice softer than before. No response. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” Hanbin whispers faintly behind the door.

“Okay,” you respond uneasily, “but I’m staying here until you come out.”

You take his soft sigh as affirmation, and immediately pull out your phone to text his roommate.

you: wya??

taerae: staying w my aunt for the weekend taerae: why whats up?

you: hanbins sick

taerae: oh shit taerae: well. gl to him

you: 😭 you: do you have medicine

taerae: no 😂 taerae: wait actually taerae: check the bottom drawer on my desk

you: found it ty

You gather whatever medicines look helpful from Taerae’s drawer, then grab water from the fridge. Soon enough, you hear Hanbin moving behind the door, followed by the flush of the toilet and water running from the sink. He emerges from the bathroom, his face glistening with water droplets. He looks tired in a way you’ve never seen before as he trudges past you and collapses at the foot of his bed.

He groans softly at the hard surface, but makes no move to get up. You crouch down to the ground, pressing your hand against his forehead in concern.

“Hanbin,” you gasp. “You’re burning up.”

Hanbin makes a pitiful noise, shifting so he’s pressing his flushed cheek to the cold tile. You loop your arms through his and haul him to his feet.

“You missed the bed,” you try to joke, but even you can hear the terribly masked worry in your voice. Hanbin slumps onto the mattress, and you carefully pull the covers over him despite his small sounds of protest. He’s clearly not concerned enough to do anything more, so he mutters incoherent nonsense under his breath and then closes his eyes.

You can’t help the minuscule twitch of your lips at the sight, but you turn back to the medicine bottles before you can allow yourself to dwell on it.

Once you’ve arranged an assortment of pills and the water, you gently shake Hanbin, whose eyes are still shut.

“Sit up,” you urge, tapping his shoulder. Hanbin cracks open an eye, sulking. Regardless, he complies, sitting up and fully opening his eyes. “Take these.”

His frown deepens, but his gaze scans your face and he obeys without another word.

“How long have you been sick like this?”

Silence.

“When’s the last time you ate?” You try instead. Hanbin pauses, like he’s taking a moment to genuinely think about it, then shrugs blankly. “Hanbin, you have to eat!”

“Not hungry,” he mumbles.

“This isn’t up for debate,” you shoot back. “I’ll go grab you something, so stay here, okay?”

Hanbin nods, sinking back into bed. You shoulder your bag and search for his phone and keys, finding them on his desk.

“Here,” you say, tucking his phone under his pillow. “Call me if you need anything. I’m taking your keys so you don’t have to let me in. Take a nap, and I’ll be back soon.”

Hanbin only buries his face further into the pillow. You refill his water and adjust the room temperature before slipping on your shoes at the front. You helplessly turn back to look at him once more, like a compass straying north. Then, you leave.

When Sung Hanbin first walked into Say Yes! Coffee with a stunning resume and even more stunning smile, you recognized him instantly.

You had met Hanbin in the beginning of your sophomore year on a Thursday night, when the noise from the room above yours was becoming unbearable.

You had stormed up the stairs in your pajamas, too tired to care about appearances as you incessantly knocked on the door. When the door opened to a man clad in all black with an unnervingly handsome face, you faltered slightly. However, the sight of the dim lights and red solo cups behind him rekindled your anger, and you immediately began to tell him off.

He was holding a party on a Thursday night, for god’s sake, couldn’t he at least have waited until the weekend? As you continued on about the lack of consideration for those with Friday morning classes — however small the number may be — your voice got stuck in your throat when the man responded with a dazzling smile.

“Cute,” he had said, causing you to flinch in shock. He agreeably promised to keep the noise down, and with your face heating up from a mixture of embarrassment and surprise, you turned around and left without another word.

You didn’t see him again after that incident, but true to his word, the noise was considerably softer in the following parties. When you saw him again at your workplace, you weren’t even sure if he’d remember you.

However, Hanbin’s eyes had instantly lit up. “Pajama girl!” He’d exclaimed, and your smile dropped.

From then onwards, your relationship had taken a turn. Jiwoong began scheduling the two of you for almost every shift together, allowing you to witness every step of his journey — from training, to slowly taking over register, to becoming a pain in your ass. It almost made you sentimental, thinking about how much you’d gotten to see.

With the increased shifts came increased shenanigans during breaks, from ridiculous drink concoctions to espresso shot chugging competitions. Eventually, these were followed by unexpected knocks on your door and boba runs between classes.

Hanbin would let you into the dance studio, smirking at your reactions in the mirror whenever he caught you staring as he practiced. You allowed him to tag along on your trips to the library, even though he would use the soundproof study room to loudly poke fun at you while you would fret over your lab reports and problem sets.

Despite the vast differences in your majors, you still had the common denominator of a shared dorm building. This was clear every time Hanbin would knock on your door to drag you to his upstairs parties to expand your social circle, or when you would knock on his to deliver successful baking experiments.

In your second semester, he joined you in a General Education class that he absolutely did not need to take, and you started going to his open dance classes despite your severe lack of coordination.

So perhaps Jiwoong was right, maybe you were incredibly close — until the possibility of Hanbin winning Employee of the Year became real enough to scare you, until you decided it would be easier to hate him. (Was it Employee of the Year that you were afraid of, or something else?)

You reenter Hanbin’s dorm with a giant thermos of steaming hot soup, an extra blanket, and an assortment of items from the nearby drugstore. You dump the contents onto the table, wincing at the amount. You may have gone slightly crazy and swept nearly everything off the shelves at the pharmacy, but you convince yourself they’ll be necessary.

When you enter his room with the food, you’re surprised to find that he’s already awake. His brows furrow slightly at the sight of you.

“I brought you soup,” you explain, nodding at the bowl in your hands. “Eat.”

While the Hanbin 30 minutes ago was so sluggish he could barely keep his eyes open, this Hanbin is uncannily alert. His eyes dart back and forth between you, the soup, and the medicines scattered across his desk. He opens and closes his mouth, like he’s searching for the right words.

“Why’re you doing this?” A strange question to settle on, but you smile at him softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t understand,” he replies, his gaze wary.

You frown. “You’ve done the same for me. Remember when I got super drunk at Matthew’s and you brought me home?”

Hanbin goes silent.

Things like this between you and Hanbin are never questioned — they always go without saying. He threatens you at work, but he still picks you up when you drink too much. You fight him over the register, but you still sit next to him in class and watch him from the back of the dance studio. You’re still here, because you know Hanbin would be no different.

“You don’t owe me for that,” Hanbin blurts out, red creeping up his cheeks.

“I don’t think of it like that. I’m here because I want you to get better,” you say, holding out the bowl of soup to him. A peace offering.

Hanbin hesitates, then accepts it, blowing on it to cool it down and taking a sip. He hums in satisfaction, then shovels the rest down his throat within a minute. You gape.

“Slow down,” you scold, remembering the vomiting from earlier. You feel a pang of guilt realizing how hungry he must’ve been, motionless in his bed without the energy to eat.

Hanbin grows more lethargic on his second bowl, his eyelids beginning to sink. He catches himself just before he can allow himself to doze, and you frown. You can’t help but wonder why he’s fighting sleep when it’s what he needs the most — his half-lidded eyes stay focused on you, and then it hits you. Maybe he wants to be alone.

You take the bowl back and pull the covers over him, noting with a twinge of satisfaction that some color has returned to his face.

“I’ll clean things up and then head out so you can get some sleep,” you tell him. Although something deep inside you longs to stay, to stick with him until you’re sure that his fever is gone, you stand up from the chair.

However, Hanbin grabs your elbow before you can fully turn away. When you look at him, there’s a plea behind his eyes that he doesn’t seem keen on voicing. Even when he’s sick, he’s strong, tugging you back towards him until you’re sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Do you want more soup?” You ask, unsure of what he needs from you.

Hanbin shakes his head. “Stay,” he mumbles, so faint that you barely hear it.

Oh.

“Sleep,” you coax him gently, your heart squeezing at his request. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Hanbin searches your face with a hint of desperation, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sparkle in his eyes. (Did Sung Hanbin always look at you like you had hung the moon and stars?)

You don’t have to think about it for too long because Hanbin seems to find whatever he’s looking for in your expression and finally closes his eyes. Sleep pulls him under within minutes, evident in his deeper breathing and the loosened tension in his body.

You brush some of his hair away from his forehead, softening at the lines of his face, more youthful and relaxed with the rest.

In a few minutes, you know you’ll have to clean up, restock the fridge, and find a damp washcloth to reduce his temperature. But you allow yourself a moment to stare, brushing his thumb with your cheek.

Even while asleep, Hanbin leans into the touch, like a flower searching for sunlight, and you flinch. You return to your chair next to his bed and watch him until the sun rises, your heart a jumbled mess.

“Jiwoong.” Hanbin calls out one morning towards the end of his training, when the three of you are opening the store.

“Hmm?” Jiwoong shoots Hanbin a brief glance before going back to busying himself with the espresso machine.

“Why do you always schedule me and Y/N together?”

You turn at the mention of your name, perking up with curiosity. Jiwoong’s brows furrow, almost as though the answer is obvious.

“Y/N is efficient, in pretty much all ways possible. She can make the most drinks in the least time possible, without compromising quality. She’s also great at responding to unexpected situations,” Jiwoong explains. You grin at the compliment but stay silent, sensing he has more to say.

“Hanbin, you’re slower and sometimes you freeze up during mishaps. But you’re good with customers. You know enough about coffee to make recommendations. You’re perceptive, so you’re first to know when we need to restock. All of which Y/N tends to fall short on. Which is fine, of course, because neither of you is perfect.

“But what one of you lacks, the other one makes up. You’re imperfect separately, but a perfect match together.” Jiwoong puts a pause to his grandiose speech to fish for the keys in his pocket. “Anyways, I’m going to unlock the door now.”

You shoot Hanbin an incredulous look, despite the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. Hanbin looks equally confused, but his gaze softens when you make eye contact. The smile he returns is so tender that you have to look away, your face burning like a star. You go back to wiping down the counters, and avoid thinking about Sung Hanbin and how incredibly red his ears were.

When Hanbin wakes up, you’re reminded of his training days from all those months ago, of his shy but earnest demeanor, unafraid to reveal his struggles and ask for help.

This Hanbin is similarly vulnerable, allowing himself to be open and show you weakness. Allowing you to help him.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Hanbin’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you flush, shaking yourself out of your nostalgia. You press the back of your hand against his forehead, sighing in relief.

“Drink this, it’ll help," you say, avoiding his eyes as you hand him a glass of orange juice. “Your fever finally broke.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m sweating balls,” he rasps, kicking off the blankets you’d piled on top of him. He chugs down the juice and rubs at his eyes. “What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday evening. You pretty much slept through the whole day,” you grin.

“Did you stay since yesterday?” A hint of guilt flashes across Hanbin’s face.

“It’s fine, I got some work done,” you wave it off, gesturing to your computer propped open on his desk. “Taerae’s gonna be back soon, so I’ll head out, okay? I texted Jiwoong for you, so you’re not working tomorrow. There’s some extra soup in the fridge, so heat that whenever you want.”

You start to gather your things, but Hanbin catches your wrist. His expression is abnormally serious, his eyes piercing holes into yours.

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” You use your other hand to check his forehead again, but he stops you.

"I need you."

Your mouth falls open. “What?”

Hanbin quickly catches himself. "I need you — to drop this Employee of the Year thing. Jiwoong already told me he's giving it to you."

You're still stuck on the first three words of his sentence, but when the gears in your head finally turn you gasp. It's a lot to process and you shake your head, wondering if you even heard him right. How long were you fighting for an award that was already yours?

"I thought you wanted to win," is all you can think of saying.

Hanbin smiles, warm and soft in a way so familiar that your heart aches. “Y/N, I don’t care about Employee of the Year. Go out with me.”

You find yourself at a loss for words, but Hanbin doesn’t seem to mind as he continues.

“I know I still have a lot to learn, and I didn't even care about the award that much. I was mostly just teasing you, so can we please stop fighting over it? Or else I’ll seriously think you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you choke out.

Hanbin chuckles. “I figured that now. No one spends this much time and effort on someone they hate.”

“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are you serious?” Hanbin tugs you by the hands, enough that you’re sitting on the edge of his bed. All traces of humor vanish from his face as he stares at you intently.

“Y/N, I like you. I thought you were cute ever since you showed up at my doorstep in your pajamas. And I’ve been hopelessly obsessed with you ever since we started working together. Does that answer your question?”

Fireworks explode in your chest as you think back to Jiwoong’s old words.

What one of you lacks, the other one makes up.

When Hanbin is sick, you take care of him. When Hanbin forgets to eat at the dance studio, you bring him food. And despite all your incessant fighting, Hanbin covers for you at the register. Hanbin invites you to parties when you’re cooped up in the library for too long. Hanbin sends you his notes when you doze off in class.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you begin to put together the little moments of your relationship. You were a perfect match the whole time, just as Jiwoong said, only you hadn’t truly realized the weight of his words. You itch with the need to do something, but your hands are still tightly grasped in Hanbin’s and you can’t think of much else to do than to lean down and press your lips to his cheek.

Hanbin makes a small noise of surprise at the contact, his hands slackening around yours. You flush at the warmth of his skin against your mouth, feeling as though you’re floating somewhere above the stars. When you pull away, Hanbin’s eyes are closed, lashes fanned against his cheekbones and face tilted upwards like he’s hoping for more, or savoring it. His eyes are glassy when they finally open, eliciting a giggle from your throat.

“I like you too,” you grin, “if that didn’t make it clear.”

Hanbin smiles then, so wide that you can see his whisker dimples. He pulls you down and on top of him, burying his face in your neck.

“Let me kiss you properly,” he whispers into your skin. You separate from him enough to read his expression, eyes widening at the sudden sharpness in his gaze. His eyes flicker between yours, before darting down to your lips and fixating on them.

“Won’t your mouth taste horrible?” You tease, but you’re already leaning in.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs against your lips before closing the distance.

A thousand firecrackers flare up in your body when his mouth meets yours. You gasp when his tongue slips into your mouth, leaving behind the pleasantly surprising taste of orange juice.

Sparks fly where his skin touches yours, multiplied by a thousand when he cradles your cheek and deepens the kiss. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. The soft groan that emits from Hanbin causes a jolt of pleasure to shudder down your spine, and you instinctively tug harder.

You pull away far too soon to catch your breath, breath hitching at the string of saliva between both your lips.

“Gross,” you lie, but Hanbin’s eyes only darken.

“I wanna do that again.” He leans in again, but you veer away before you can allow your judgment to blur.

“You have to focus on getting better first!” You swat at his hands.

Hanbin pouts. “I’m way better. Stellar, actually.”

“You can kiss me in two days.”

Hanbin’s answering smile is blindingly bright, even though you didn’t say anything particularly funny.

“What is it?” Your pulse races at how he looks at you — like you’re made of every precious thing in the world, like you’re a dream made alive.

“I think this might be the happiest day of my life,” he answers. As he grins at you with the warmth of the entire sun, you realize the fluttering behind your ribcage was never a new feeling — you were just as enamored with him when you first met.

You smile back, bigger than you’ve ever smiled at Hanbin, watching his gaze turn awestruck as a red-hot blush creeps up his cheeks and neck.

“I think it might be mine too.”

288 notes · View notes

izzyy-stuff · 9 days

Note

Hi Izzy! So i wanted to request a smut fic tehe. So reader is like the new member of a new group under HYBE. And on their first day at the company, they walk into the wrong practice room. When txt sees reader, they all instantly straighten up and bc reader is so pretty, they all wanna talk to her. But duh, it’s gonna be a gyu fic. after reader accidentally bumps into them, she clicks w/ gyu right away. So on a music show, TXT gets another win n’ reader decides to congratulate gyu 😏(ifykyk) TY!!

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

idol!beomgyu x fem!reader

in which After accidentally walking into his practice room and cursing as if fuck was the only word in your vocabulary, you manage to befriend one of the TXT members; Choi Beomgyu. But your friendship soon turns into something messier as you spent more time with him.

wc 2.8k

warnings smut, brunette!Beomgyu, mostly sub!Beomgyu and dom!reader, fwb lowk, blowjob, unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of cursing

↪ izzy speaks... mhm I like this one :3 When Yeonjun dropped those concept pics and thought he might finally be able to steal me, this gyu reminded me where I belong again

“I’m running there now,” you assured her, your breath shaky as you stopped at the red light, taking a moment to breathe properly. “Yeah, I can hear that,” your group leader scoffed, and you could practically hear her shaking her head at you. “No one came here to look for you, so they probably haven’t checked the cameras yet. I’ll try to cover for you, but don’t take long.” You nodded, a quick ‘thank you’ escaping your lips as you hung up, stuffing your phone back into your pocket, getting ready to run again in the hopes that you wouldn’t be too late for your first practice after debut.

It hasn’t been that long, and honestly, it still felt surreal. Your debut was only two weeks ago, and you already had people here and there cheering you on. It was a warm feeling.

But you weren’t sure how long you could keep that feeling for. You were worried that if people knew you were a mess outside the cameras, they might change their view of you. You were usually late due to your non-existent time management, and you were forgetful. Honestly, you’d be surprised if you still remembered your debut date after six months.

If you were to put it simply, numbers were your biggest enemy.

So it didn’t surprise you much when you ran through the HYBE hallway, looking for practice room 4. You were convinced you remembered your schedule this time. You were confident your practice room was number 4.

But it wasn’t.

And you had to learn the hard way.

“Fuck, sorry, girls. I completely lost track of time. Has anyone looked for me yet? I hope… not,” you froze, the sound of the door closing behind you the only thing you could hear now. It was as if everything froze with you. “Fuck, sorry,” you apologized immediately, scanning the room as fast as you could. “Shit, I should stop saying fuck,” you muttered, causing a laugh escape from the brunette opposite you.

“Hey, sorry. Can we help you somehow?” The seemingly tallest of the five boys you noticed in the practice room asked, taking a few steps forward to you after exchanging a look with his bandmates. “Uhm, actually, maybe,” you mumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck as you watched them. They were sweating, two of them even panting. Right, people sweat when they practice like they should, you reminded yourself. “I was looking for room 4? Isn’t this it?”

“Seems like you are in the right place, then.” Your attention shifted from the tallest to the one behind him, your eyes widening immediately. Yeonjun. Choi Yeonjun was in front of you. You wanted to slap yourself for not realizing who you were talking to sooner. “Fuck,” you exhaled, the curse slipping from your tongue on instinct.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to say fuck anymore?” The brown-haired guy smirked, stepping forward with the rest. Choi Beomgyu, you noted mentally. You could recognize the famous faces now that you looked at them again. “A bit hard when Tubatu is standing in front of you,” you admitted, watching their lips curve into a smile.

“I’m sorry, I guess I had the wrong room number. I’ll-” Before you could finish your sentence, your ringtone interrupted you. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing you were in trouble now. It was either the staff calling you or your group leader. You weren’t sure which one was the worse option.

You reached into your pocket, looking at the caller ID: Nari, your leader. “Alright, I’m so sorry I ran into your practice. I’m going to go right away. I have my own practice to attend,” you smiled awkwardly. Not waiting for their response, you quickly turned your back to them, rushing out of the practice room before you accepted the call. You didn’t give her any time to yell at you as you asked her where your practice room was.

♡⸝⸝

“Alright, that’s it for today,” your group leader clapped, looking at your six-member group. You finally took a deep breath, sliding down to the ground. “I am so tired.” Your best friend scoffed, sitting down beside you. “You’re not done yet, babe,” she proclaimed, making you whine. “What now? I already said I am sorry for being late. Please don’t make me dance for another hour as punishment!” You pleaded, dramatically spreading your arms and legs.

“Not an hour-long practice, but you are filming our next dance challenge,” Nari informed you. “In,” she started, looking at her arm as if she were to see the time on her non-existent watch. “An hour. If I were you, I would run to the shower and start getting ready. They don’t have the whole day for you.” You whined again, closing your eyes tiredly. “With who? I already did the dance challenge with Hoshi and Chaewon last week! I embarrassed myself enough! They totally outdid me!”

“If you weren’t late, we would send Eunji. Don’t be dramatic about it now, and get ready. Yeonjun should be waiting for you later,” Nari stated. You sat up immediately, your eyes widened. “Yeonjun?!” You repeated after her, getting a confused nod in return.

You sighed, finally accepting your fate before you looked at your leader again. “Alright, I’ll do the challenge with him, but be prepared for a call once I am done. The craziest thing happened when I was going to practice,” you said, jumping on your feet again.

♡⸝⸝

It might have been the first time you weren’t the one late. You sat on the couch in your practice room as your two staff members prepared everything, waiting for the famous fourth-gen IT boy. You sighed, turning off your phone in annoyance. It might have been the first time you were the one waiting for someone else, and you hated it. You started to understand how others felt when you were constantly late.

“We are so sorry for being late. Practice was longer than we expected,” you heard the familiar voice, turning your head towards the door. We? “I couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to hear you cursing again, could I?” The brown-haired boy smiled, as if he could read your mind. “I’m not going to curse again,” you stated, but honestly, when you didn’t believe it yourself, how could he? “If you say so,” Beomgyu chuckled.

The two males learned your choreography in the blink of an eye, finishing the video in just two takes. You admired them a lot. Especially after you’d tried to learn their latest choreography. You couldn’t process the moves properly. It felt nearly impossible and you whined, dropping down onto the floor.

Beomgyu didn’t hesitate before squatting down beside you, ignoring the panicking glances from Yeonjun. “Maybe we should take a break,” he suggested, looking over his shoulder at the staff. “You can go for a coffee, or something, and I’ll go over it again with her.” The two staff members exchanged a look, unable to turn such an offer down. Before you could even realize it, they were long gone, leaving you in the practice room alone with Beomgyu and Yeonjun.

“This is embarrassing. I’m an idol, too. I shouldn’t be so incapable,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to avoid them as much as possible. It was embarrassing enough when you ran into their practice room earlier that day. You didn’t need all this on top of that.

“You aren’t–” Yeonjun started, but before he could finish, the younger male interrupted him, making him lose your attention before he could even receive it. “You aren’t incapable,” Beomgyu assured you. “When we were learning it for the first time, I felt the same way. The choreography is hard, but I know you can do it. I saw you dance earlier. You are fully capable of learning the moves. Heck, you might even end up being better than Yeonjun,” he tried to ease the mood with a laugh, and it worked. You shook your head, giggling as you stood up again, refusing to look like a crybaby. “Alright, show me again, please,” you pleaded.

Yeonjun stood on the side, regretful as he watched you dance with Beomgyu. You mastered the choreography after a few more tries, reviewing it now. He sighed, realizing it was all his fault. When the staff told him he should bring one more member for the dance challenge, he thought Beomgyu was the safe choice. That he could charm you while Beomgyu would be the crackhead he usually is, but it turned out the other way. Somehow, Beomgyu managed to charm you right in front of his eyes instead, and there was nothing he could do.

“Do you have any schedule after this?” Beomgyu asked, sitting down and pressing his back against the mirror. “Not that I know of,” you said, glancing over at Yeonjun, sitting on the same couch you sat on while waiting for him. A part of you felt bad for him. It felt as if you were leaving him out, forcing him to be on his phone while you and Beomgyu engaged in a conversation. “How about I treat you to dinner?” He suggested, making your eyes widen. Whatever amount of your attention Yeonjun had seconds ago, it was all gone now. “What?”

“As a reward for learning the dance.”

♡⸝⸝

After that day, you and Beomgyu became close friends. Friends. You weren’t actually sure if that was what you could call it. You were friends for some time, but both of you knew it couldn’t last long. You couldn’t be just friends when all you could think about at night was having him in your bed next to you. You thought about him at practice, about how hot he looked when he danced. You thought about how his lips moved when he talked to you, about how the same lips would feel against yours. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, no matter how hard you tried.

You hung out together after practices. You had gone out to eat with his members, and he went out with yours. You had spent every free minute of your time with him in the past two months, so it wasn’t a big surprise to anyone when you showed up at Music Bank at the same time he did. What did surprise your members, though, was that you weren’t late.

“Damn! Beomgyu really does have a good impact on you!” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, ignoring her comment and greeting your stylist, already looking at the outfit she had prepared for you.

♡⸝⸝

You couldn’t lie; you hoped for a win for your group, but a part of you always cheered for Tubatu. They deserved the win, Beomgyu deserved the win. And you soon realized, their win meant a win for you too.

You kneeled in front of the brown-haired boy, your hair in his hands as he held it up for you in a ponytail, his head thrown back. “You did so good today,” you praised him, your mouth stuffed with his cock. “S-Shut up,” he whimpered, a few of your hair strands escaping his fingers as his grip loosened. You smirked, pulling your head back when you felt him thrust his hips forward to reach deeper. “You want me to shut my mouth, hm?” You teased him. “No, please,” he pleaded, his breath trembling. “Need you.”

You weren’t sure when your relationship started evolving in this direction. It happened in the blink of an eye. One second you were walking with him to your dorm, and the next thing you knew, your lips were pressed on his. The kiss was full of need then, and it felt the same way now. Whenever Beomgyu kissed you, you could feel how much he wanted you.

So when his group won, you thought you would congratulate him with a simple peck until you felt the need in the kiss once again. When his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, you knew it wasn’t ending with just a kiss.

“Please, I’ll be so good,” Beomgyu whined, holding onto the edge of the table behind him for support. “Will you now?” Your lips turned into a smile. You loved teasing him, but you knew your expressions always gave you away because nothing could get you more turned on than a man begging to have you.

“So good,” he repeated eagerly.

“Good boys deserve a prize,” you said softly before your lips found his trembling cock again, giving his tip a quick peck before you opened your mouth wide, your tongue wrapping over his whole length. As your name slipped past his lips with an almost pornographic moan, you couldn’t help yourself and rub your thighs together, your panties soaked.

It only took a few kitty-licks over his tip for the male to cum in your mouth, his release sliding down your cheek when you pulled away. Beomgyu was a whining mess, his hands still holding tightly onto the table as you stood up from the floor, cupping his cheeks. “A bit more,” he whimpered, his right hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You moaned out, too, as you felt his still hard cock slide between your legs, pressing on your clothed pussy.

You couldn’t say no when he asked you so prettily. “You’ll have to be extra quick, okay?” Beomgyu didn’t even process what you just said before he nodded. He didn’t need to know because he knew he would do anything you asked him for.

You took Beomgyu’s position, jumping up on the table, teasingly opening your legs with a smirk as you watched him, his eyes flitting between your panties and face. “You enjoy this, don’t you?” – “Absolutely,” you nodded, grabbing his arm and pulling him between your legs. “I love seeing you whimper for me as much as you love being in me.”

It was safe to say you were driving him crazy. His cock twitched at your words, begging him to finally slide into you. He groaned, yanking your panties down. A yelp escaped your lips as the cold air hit you, making you wrap your legs around his hips in order to feel some warmth.

His cock was soon deep inside you, hitting your g-spot almost immediately. You were both a whining mess by now. His forehead was sweaty, just like when you first met him, except this time, it was for a different reason. The mini skirt your stylist put you into earlier was rolled up, fully exposing your lower body to the brunette.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, ‘m close,” you gasped when he managed to hit your g-spot simulately, driving you over the edge. “Shit, I’m–” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before he pulled out, groaning as he released all over your stage outfit. You could hear his breath trembling as he collapsed into your arms, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing his back. “It’s fine, take a moment to breathe,” you whispered, unable to hide your smile. He was adorable.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Beomgyu asked casually as he pulled his pants up again. You, on the other hand, didn’t find that casual at all. You froze, blinking a few times, trying to figure out if you heard him right. “You want to…sleep at mine?” You asked, making him look up at you. He nodded, his eyes wandering all over your face, hoping to read you. “Unless you mind? I mean– forget it, I didn’t say anything,” he shook his head, turning around and looking for his phone.

You closed your eyes, sighing. “Beomie, of course you can stay with me,” you assured him, walking over to him. He faced you again upon feeling your touch on his arm, his eyes soft. “I just don’t know what I’ll say to my members, that’s all.”

“You think they don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

It was Beomgyu who froze this time, rethinking what he wanted to say. “I mean, I don’t know like… that we are together, kind of.”

“That we are ‘kind of together’?” You raised an eyebrow at him, making him sigh. “Alright, yeah, I know I didn’t ask you out properly until now, but…please?” It only took you one glance for him to continue, knowing you weren’t vibing with his half-assed suggestions. “Please, I want to be your boyfriend,” he added, holding onto your hand. “Please?”

You chuckled when he pleaded again, rolling your eyes playfully before you nodded. “Yes, Beomie, I’d love for you to be my boyfriend.”

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae ✶⋆

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hearts4johnwick · 2 months

Text

— REMINISCENCE.

SUMMARY. tyler coincidentally finds you again after you got injured during a EF-3 tornado.

WARNINGS. reader gets injured, cheating (??), allusions to smut.

WORD COUNT. 1k (i wanted it to be longer but i couldn’t think of anything else </3. this is lowkey a mess but in a good way ;) idk yall will be the judges of that)

you cried in pain as you held your thigh in your hands, pressing on the open and bleeding wound. an EF-3 tornado came in unannounced and Scott found you taking shelter with a family that had seen you and called for you to take cover with them but while you were making your way over there, a piece of metal debris from the tornado pierced her thigh, the father and brother had to go up and help her stand and walk over to the shelter. one of the family members took off a piece of their clothing and wrapped it around her open wound.

once the storm passed they left the shelter and went into the town, looking for an ambulance for you. you saw your crew and Scott laid his eyes on you and immediately made his way over.

“Oh my God, Y/n! What happened to you?” Scott took you from the father’s arms and thanked them.

“i was at the park, clearing my mind off of things, saw the tornado forming and went to my car but then the family offered me to come to take shelter, i went, but the debris from the tornado… well…”

“shit, i’m so sorry for being late.” you shake your head. “how are you feeling right now?”

“I want some water.” Scott sees a gurney from an ambulance and softly lays you down.

“i’ll get you some water.” he leaves and paramedics come to inspect you.

they stitch your cuts and help you with other possible injuries you could’ve suffered. they found nothing serious, only a few scratches, and a sprained ankle. taking out the huge piece of aluminum roofing from your thigh was horrible, you’re pretty sure you broke Scott’s hand by how hard you held it while in the process.

right now, you were sitting in the back of the ambulance, a blanket draped over your shoulders and Scott’s arm around you.

“i went over to your house and you weren’t there today. or yesterday, or the day before that. where have you been?” Scott’s cold hands cup your cheek and caress them softly, you rest your eyes, feeling relieved and calm at his touch, as you were about to speak, a familiar voice rings through your ears.

“what the hell happened to you?!” Tyler Owens pushes Scott out of his sight, you furrow your eyebrows.

“Hey, man. it’s okay, she’s fine.” Tyler’s head cocks over to the direction of the voice.

“what are you, blind? can’t you see those cuts on her face and that enourmous one on her thigh?” Tyler’s voice raises and he glances at your glossy eyes.

“Ty…” the sound of your raspy voice catches his attention in an instant. “I’m okay now… the doctor’s checked me and they said it’s nothing serious.” he lets out an exhale and rests his eyes before humming in acceptance. you slowly stand from the back of the ambulance and make your way toward Scott.

“i’m leaving now.” Scott furrowed his eyebrows. his face hardened, he was about to tell you to sit back down until we get the paramedic’s approval to leave, but he knew it was best to not start that argument. “thank you.” you placed a hand on his chest and he held it, he nodded and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“anytime. let me know if you make it home safe.” you laugh as he maintains intimidating eye contact with Tyler.

“not too much, Scott.”

“Yeah, whatever.” he rolls his eyes and smirks before you turn your back on him, leaving with Tyler.

“thanks for what?? that asshole didn’t do anything.” Tyler says as he helps you into his truck. you laugh.

“he was here before you.”

“yeah? but was he there in second grade when Peter Welling made for of your curly hair? or in Junior year when we were at the bonfire at the beach and that dickhead Nolan Cushing wouldn’t leave you alone?” you shoot him a glare and scoff, you were about to fight him but he shuts the door, taking you aback.

when he gets in the driver seat you point to him. “don’t ever do that again.”

“was he there…” your eyes connect, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “the night before you left for college.” Oh God. “July 24th…” your breathing patterns quickly become unstable, so does your heartbeat.

“you still remember that night?” you chuckle and look away nervously.

“i reminisce that night.” his hand around your face forces you to look at him, and you see it in the reflection of his eyes. july 24th. the night before college.

heat runs up and down your entire body. he feels it, that heat radiating from your skin and it feels so good to him. “we can’t.”

“but we should.

“no. Sco—“

“Scott’s no better than me.” his lips were on yours before you could even take a breath, but you enjoyed it, the second his lips touched yours you were pulling him closer, gripping his hair and face, moving the direction of your heads just so you can deepen the kiss.

you haven’t felt this hunger, this desire since that night, and God does it feel right. Tyler’s hands were all over you, not missing an inch. when his hand moved to your thigh, you flinched because of the wound, but that didn’t make you stop. you needed Tyler at that moment.

all of those moments you missed while you were in Oklahoma were happening now, and would continue back at your house. he felt just as good as he did back in the night before you left for college. you missed him, you were starving for him, and you let him know in all the ways possible.

oh and Tyler? he doesn’t even remember his life before this night. he didn’t waste one second, he didn’t even take his eyes off of you, for he thought that would be a crime. God how he missed you this close to him. the look of you under him, your curls sticking to your face, and your irresistible lips on his skin, your seductive eyes starring down at his.

you found each other again in that moment, and you didn’t not want to lose each other one more time unless it was in your eyes, mouths, or sounds.

meanwhile, Scott was still waiting on your ‘i’m home okay :)’ text. and he got it. sent by Tyler.

guys… i’m in love with david corenswet 🫦🫦

send some requests! (marvel, dc, star wars, the boys, etc!)

also, i have a ‘Twisters’ fic on wattpad if y’all wanna check it out! https://www.wattpad.com/story/374563132?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=hearts4johnwick ᥫ᭡

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens oneshot #glen powell x reader #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagine #glen powell #glen powell oneshot #twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters oneshot

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m0llygunn · 1 year

Text

It Gets Worse (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

Part 2 to Same Old Song and Dance

Summary: As the rhythm of your never ending dance with Eddie speeds up, things change, but is it really for the worse?

Tropes: bully!eddie (kind of), mean!eddie (not rlly tho), enemies to lovers Warnings: 18+, mature language, pet names (princess), oral (male receiving), smut. Authors Notes: thank you to everyone who reblogged/interacted with the first part!! it was the second thing I ever posted on here so it was very cool for me. I hope you like part 2. Part 3 soon! wc: 6.2k

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“It was a poor lapse in judgment. That’s all. If he’s suddenly nicer to me, good. If he stays his same undignified self, fine.” You say, scribbling down the notes you missed.

You were ‘sick’ yesterday. After what happened with Eddie, you had to be.

“I think you’re missing one more option there.” Nancy says, eyebrows turned up in concern.

“I’m not.” You shrug.

“You are.” She persists.

“Fine, Nance. What am I missing?” You say, putting your pencil down and giving her your full attention.

“He gets worse.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie left your house pretty quickly after it all went down. Probably desperate to get home and ‘rub one out’ as he so eloquently put it.

You were fine after he left, still riding the post orgasm high.

It was only after you sat down, taking out your school work, that the worksheet from Mrs. Ward's class knocked you back down to earth.

You let Eddie Munson, the boy who has terrorized you since elementary school, finger you. And the worst part, it was good. Great, even.

So naturally, you were sick the next day. You enjoyed yourself an Eddie Munson free day from the safety of your bed.

Around 7 that night, Nancy called you telling you that Eddie was asking where you were at school. And of course, Nancy with her inquisitive— and extremely persuasive mind, got you to spill your guts. She knows all about your ongoing hostility with Eddie, but for some reason, what happened between you two didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

In exchange for the gory details of your afternoon with Eddie, she agreed to meet you on the bleachers before school started to borrow her notes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie sauntered into class as if he wasn’t late. He wasn’t phased as Mrs. Ward scolded him. With a muttered ‘Sorry’, he stepped into the classroom, eyes narrowed on you, with a buzzing excitement coursing through his veins and an extra pep in his step.

You had managed to avoid Eddie the whole day up until now.

His eyes burned into you from the minute he appeared in the doorway. The only thing you could do was sit up straighter and pretend like you couldn’t see him.

Even as he purposefully passed in front of your desk, knocking his fist on the surface as he rounded to his own seat, you pretended he was nothing but a pesky house fly that just barely got on your nerves with its ceaseless buzzing.

When a note landed on your desk only minutes after his arrival, you took your time opening it.

‘Where were you?’ was scribbled out in red ink. It didn’t deserve your response.

Instead, you gathered your hair in your hands, swirling it around your fingers, tying it into a tight bun at the base of your neck. Pulling out a few pieces of hair to frame your face, careful to make sure no strands were inherently ‘pullable'.

When Mrs. Ward dedicates the remaining portion of class to working with your partners, you close your eyes inhaling deeply before turning.

“Why were you asking Nancy where I was yesterday? Are you, like, obsessed with me now?” You say, beating Eddie to the chase. His eyes open wide, mouth dropping slightly, as his cheeks tinge pink.

“No.” He says quietly, eyes dropping to his desk where his notebook lays blank, page ripped in half from the note he threw at you.

“So what then?” You snap.

He shrugs.

You weren’t expecting him to give up just like that. You jumped the gun on an unexpecting target. The dance is only fun with two people.

Silence between you two, you set your worksheet down on his desk, swiveling your body to face him.

As you cross your legs under his desk, your foot rubs his shin and he doesn’t even make any of his usual stupid comments. He doesn’t even look up.

So you do it again. And again. You let your foot trail up from his ankle all the way to his calf as you scribble ideas down on your worksheet.

When you hook your foot around his leg you’re surprised when you feel fingers grip your bare ankle.

“Fucking quit it.” He hisses, lifting your leg higher until your knee hits the bottom of his desk in a thud.

“Eddie. I’m wearing a skirt. Let. Go.” You snap, trying to break his grip.

“Oh, but I thought you liked attention?” He scoffs, eyes set on you harshly.

“Let. Go.” You repeat, kicking your leg trying to free yourself but his grip only gets stronger.

“You like attention so much, princess, that your giant ego just assumed I was obsessed with you, huh?” He says, amusement rising in his blazen eyes as he watches the way your brows pinch.

You kick your leg again and his grip becomes impossibly tight, his fingertips nearly bruising into your skin.

“You’re hurting me, Eddie.” You hiss, your voice gaining the attention of a few surrounding students.

His grip loosens immediately, dropping your ankle from his hand, and he makes fast work of kicking his chair back and standing from the desk.

Mrs. Ward yells after him as he leaves the class but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

You don’t go after him and he doesn’t return to class either. The bell rings and you pack up your stuff, eyes flickering to the door waiting for him to come back for his notebook. He doesn’t though, so you close the notebook, stacking it on top of your own books before exiting the class.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You weren’t going to actively seek him out to give him his notebook back. You were just going to hand it to him in passing. The only issue is, you haven’t seen him.

“Hey. Your name's Gareth, right?” You say, walking up to the boy as he closes his locker.

“Yeah.” He says, smirking as he looks at you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“We know who you are.” Another boy, who you think is named Jeff, says from the other side of Gareth.

“Eddie’s not around. Was pretty pissed off, actually. Something to do with you, I’m assuming?” Gareth says, brows lifting as he awaits your response.

“Why would it be because of me? He’s the one with the problem.” You scoff, furrowing your brows angrily. Gareth's smirk drops immediately, turning timid under your fire.

“Hey, hey. Sorry. We just hear about you all the time, it’s exhaust—”

“Gareth.” Jeff cuts him off, shooting him a look.

“Dude, c’mon.” Gareth says to Jeff. Jeff shoots him another pointed look before they start silently communicating with each other through looks.

“Where is he?” You huff, getting annoyed.

“Your guess is as good as ours.” Gareth says with a shrug.

“Thanks.” You scoff, spinning on your feet, mad at yourself for even bothering to try and find Eddie.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The notebook’s been taunting you all day, especially now as you sit in your room trying to get your homework done. There it is peeking out from your bag.

Giving into temptation, you grab the book, taking it to your bed.

Flipping open the first page, it’s just doodles. Flipping another page, more doodles, another page, even more doodles.

Skipping a few pages you finally find some scribbled messy writing that you can just barely make out. Something about someone named mage? Something about… a dwarf?

You skip more pages and it’s the same nonsensical writing with something about a sorcerer until it clicks. You find a page titled hellfire and you realize it has to be that nerdy fantasy game he plays with his little friends.

You quickly get bored. You were hoping for something juicy, something that would provide you with ammunition against him. It’s mostly just a lot of drawings of tits and weird looking demon-y things.

You slide the notebook under your pillow before going back to your homework.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A knock at your window startles you, heart pounding rapidly against your ribs. When you see eyes through the gap in the curtain your heart nearly stops until you recognize them. Then your heart speeds up again.

You go back to reading your book, kicking your legs back and forth behind you.

He knocks again and you wave. He points to the lock and you shrug, going back to your book, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

A third knock. It’s much more aggressive and shakes the shutters making you jump. If your dad was actually home, that would have woken him but he’s not. It’s just you and you know Eddie knows it too because of the empty driveway.

“Jesus Christ.” You mutter to yourself, pushing off your bed.

You unlock the window and he’s quickly pushing it open.

“Notebook.” He says flatly, holding his hand out.

“Notebook?” You question innocently.

“Notebook.” He repeats harshly, making you clench your jaw. Who does he think he is, coming to your house and talking to you like that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, turning around and going back to laying on your stomach with your book.

“You have my notebook.” He states, still perching outside.

“Why would I have your stupid notebook?” You sneer, rolling your eyes.

“You have it.” He sighs, pushing the window open as wide as it can go.

“I don’t even see why you would need it at this hour, I never took you as a studier.” You say indifferently, flipping the page of your book.

You watch out of your periphery as he crawls through your window seamlessly, landing gently on the carpeted floor.

“Shoes off.” You say but he ignores you, stepping further into the room. “Eddie, I said shoes off.” You repeat more sternly. He mumbles something that you don’t quite catch before he’s kicking off his shoes.

He moves to the side of the bed, standing with his arms crossed, fingers tapping on his forearm. He exhales through his nose in an almost growl and you happily keep your attention on your book as you get him all worked up.

“Princess, I know you have it, just hand it over so I can go.” He snarls.

“No.” You say stubbornly, eyes still glued to the pages of your book.

You see him turn, head darting around the room before landing on your bag next to your desk. He swiftly moves to the bag, picking it up, and before you have time to protest, he’s dumping the contents on the floor.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” You hiss, throwing your book to the side and jumping up from your bed.

He uses his foot to push around your bag’s contents before giving up since it’s not there. You lower to your knees, picking up your stuff hastily and putting it back in your bag.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you as you gather your things and you're waiting for a snide remark, you know it’s coming.

“You look pretty on your knees like that, princess.” He says, voice low making your stomach squeeze.

You look up at him with furrowed brows, and his eyes are set on you, looking down the slope of his nose, watching intently.

“Perv.” You scoff.

“Careful, princess. I wasn’t the one throwing myself at you in class today.” He says, laughing meanly.

“I wasn’t doing that.” You retort, feeling your cheeks burn hot. You focus your attention on fitting some loose pages back in your folder that he scattered everywhere.

“So what were you doing then?” He says amusedly.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You shrug your shoulders trying your best to hold onto your attitude.

“C’mon, princess. Don’t play dumb, I’m not into bimbos.” He scoffs, his familiar teasing tone slowly coming back and you do your best to hide your excitement at the prospect of Eddie rejoining this little thing you two do.

You pause your actions before flickering your gaze to him, looking up through your eyelashes as you sit a little taller.

“So what are you into then?” You question, your voice barely above a whisper, purposefully breathy. His eyes connect with yours before dropping lower, licking his lips in the process.

“Pretty girls on their knees for me.” He smirks, his freshly wet lips glistening, looking all too inviting and it almost makes you squirm.

“I’m only on my knees cause you’re a dick.” You mumble under your breath, zipping up your bag.

“Cause my dick- what, sweetheart?” He laughs.

“You are a dick.” You say louder, clenching your jaw at his stupid excuse of a joke.

“C’mon, princess. Lighten up.” He says, stepping forward. You lean back, his crotch being way too close to you, but then he drops, crouching to your level, his face only inches from yours.

You pause, waiting to see what he’s doing, but he just looks at you. His eyes are unmeeting of your own, choosing to flutter over your features before bringing a hand to your face, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Notebook, princess.” He sings softly, reminding you why he’s here.

“It’s at school.” You lie, raising your brows challengingly.

“No it’s not.” He says confidently.

“Yes, it is.” You argue, furrowing your brows at him.

“No, it’s not, princess.” He sighs and you feel his breath fan over your lips. It takes everything in you not to look.

“Eddie, how the fuck would you know?” You seethe, getting frustrated. You’re supposed to be leading this game, you’re the one on your knees.

“Cause I looked in your locker. I know it’s not in there.” He says coolly, unaffected.

“How- What do you mean, you looked in my locker?” You say bewildered, fists clenching at your side.

“I know it’s not in there, so it must be somewhere in here.” He says, ignoring your question, gaze moving around your room before settling back on you. He winks before standing, his crotch appearing directly in your face until he spins on his heels walking towards your bookshelf. “Gonna make me tear apart your pretty room looking for it, princess?” He taunts, starting to pull out books from the shelf at random.

“It’s not there.” You say firmly.

“Well maybe I’ll take a look just to be sure. Especially since we both know that you like to lie.” He says, shifting around trinkets on the top shelf.

“I don’t lie.” You huff but he ignores you, continuing to poke and prod at your things.

“Oh look, princess has a princess.” He teases, lifting up a ceramic ornament your dad gave you for your fifth birthday.

“If you break that I’ll kick your ass.” You threaten, standing up and moving to his side, watching him with crossed arms.

“Kinky.” He teases, putting the ornament down before opening your jewelry box.

“Your notebook wouldn't even fit in there.” You say, rolling your eyes. Now he’s just touching stuff to piss you off.

“You never know, princess.” He replies, rifling around, tangling your necklaces in the process before you swat his hand away.

He steps back, looking around your room again.

“Eddie, give it a rest.” You say, exhaling all the air from your lungs in a huff.

“Princess, give me my notebook.” He sings, before bounding to your dresser. His hand hovers over the top drawer and he looks back at you with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss.

“It could be in here?” He says innocently. “Everybody knows that the underwear drawer is the best drawer for hiding stuff.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“It’s not in there.” You state.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I took a peek?” He says, fingertips taping on the handle. You purse your lips, he wants to look at your panties so bad, fine.

“Go right ahead, Eddie. Live up to your perv reputation.” You say, jetting a hip out. He rolls his eyes, before turning, moving on to a different part of your room.

“I wonder what kind of dirty secrets the princess keeps in her bedside table.” Eddie taunts.

There are no dirty secrets in your bedside table but you’re sure even if he opened that drawer and found nothing he’d still spin it into something.

“Must be a pretty important notebook for you to be doing all this, Eddie.” You say, trying to distract him.

He turns to you, eyes scanning over you, sizing you up.

“You must like me being in your room princess, you know, considering you could just hand over the notebook.” He retorts, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“What? Don’t want me reading your precious notebook? That why you need it so bad?” You taunt.

“Princess, if you must know, I need it for something.” He says, lips pulled in a flat line, unbothered.

“Something? That’s not very specific.” You laugh.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in my life?” He says, perking up.

“I’m not.” You scoff.

“Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it’ll come true.” He smirks and you want to smack it right off his face.

“Well, you’re the one who was asking about me yesterday.” You spit, words rolling off your tongue.

“You were sick the day before, god forbid I have a heart and a conscience.” He spits back.

The way your own heart speeds up leaves you stumped for words and he picks it up immediately, choosing to double down on you.

“You weren’t sick though, were you? No. Princess was playing hooky. Who were you trying to avoid, hm?” He says, stepping closer to you.

“No one.” You say quietly, body turning hot under his interrogation.

“That sounds like another lie to me. It’s hypocritical, princess, to make me try and admit something while you can’t tell me one honest thing.” He says, voice all too daunting for your liking.

“I’m not lying.” You whisper.

His demeanor changes, all smirks and taunting eyes gone as he settles into something serious.

“Did you regret it? Is that it?” He says quietly, voice staying low but he doesn’t step any closer.

“Regret what?” You deflect, buying time for your heart to stop fluttering so hard.

He steps closer.

“Princess, what did I tell you about playing dumb?” You hear his voice vibrate from his chest, words striking something inside of you like a match.

“You said you like pretty girls on their knees better.” You coo, looking at him through your lashes. Keeping eye contact, you sink to your knees in front of him.

You watch as his eyes widen and it spurs you on. You’re holding the reins now, you’re in control again. Letting your fingertips hook through his belt loops, you pull him forward until he’s right where you want him.

What surprises you is the way he brings his hand to your cheek. It’s soft and almost tender. You could make the mistake of leaning into it, but you don’t.

“Princess, what do you want from me?” He whispers softly. His round eyes twinkle in your bedroom lights, captivating you entirely.

“I don’t want anything from you.” You purr, fingers still hooked in his belt loops keeping him in place. His hand on your cheek turns into a thumb running soft circles against your skin.

“Princess.” He sighs, his chest deflating.

“Do you want me to now?” You ask quietly, letting your eyes flicker to his belt line, referring to his words from the last time you tried to get on your knees for him.

“I didn’t come here for this.” He says, mouth moving in a tight line like he’s fighting some internal battle.

“Yeah, you came here for your notebook.” You state, raising your brows. “But are you gonna let me suck your dick?”

With his jeans tightening by the second his mouth still mulls back and forth, his thumb running soft circles on your cheek. He swallows and you know he’s made up his mind.

“S’all yours, princess.” He says, punctuating his words with a gentle tap to your cheek.

Unhooking your fingers from his belt loops, you walk them to the buckle, the jangle of metal filling the room as you work at it. He watches you intently, eyes staring heatedly when you finally get it undone.

“You gonna let me touch you?” You say with a teasing lilt, copying the same words he said to you. He catches your tease, lips turning up, smiling at you with amusement. “C’mon, Eddie. Use your words, I know you got ‘em in that idiot mouth of yours.” You add, digging in further with your mockery.

“You think you're teasing me, but that’s hot, princess. Keep talking.” He says, voice low and taunting as his narrowed eyes flickering over you.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about all those pretty noises I made for you, Eddie?” You coo with a breathy sweetness. His smile wavers but the amused sparkle in his darkening eyes remains strong.

“You don’t want to know, princess.” He replies carefully.

“I do, Eddie, that’s why I asked.” You let your fingers drag down his clothed thighs, he still hasn’t given you an answer, so you don’t go any further. “It’s barely been two days, how many times could a boy possibly cum?” You ask coyly.

“Got a high turnover rate, princess. Can pop one boner after another if something really gets me going.” He laughs and you let your lips turn up at his ridiculousness.

“You didn’t answer me, Eddie.” you say, trailing your nails back up the denim on his thighs. He shuts his mouth harshly before opening it again to speak.

“Anywhere between 2 to 10 times, whatever you think the best answer is, princess. You’re the smart one here.” You laugh and his cheeks tinge pink just enough for you to notice.

“Eddie, I meant my other question. Are you gonna let me touch you?” You say, dipping your head to look at him through your lashes again. His blush deepens as his eyes drink you in, absorbing everything from the way you look at him to the way you speak.

“Princess, I always want you to touch me.” He whispers, his voice small, yet genuine, and it makes your stomach flutter terribly.

“Is that so?” You say feigning indifference, fingers ghosting over the button of his jeans.

“Please.” He says breathily, swallowing thickly as his eyes follow your dainty movements.

To have him so willing at your fingertips. To have him say please. To have him. It stirs something in you that it’s never done before. None of the teasing, hair pulling, name calling, none of that has made you feel anything but red hot anger. But this… this isn’t anger. You’re still burning, but it’s not anger anymore.

His fingers smooth your hair, pulling you from your reverie, drawing your attention up to him. His eyes are waiting for you, softer than ever. It makes you want to scream. Makes you want to lash out. Stomp your foot. Throw something.

But you don’t do that. Instead you undo the button to his jeans and lower the zipper.

“You okay, princess?” Eddie whispers, breaking the silence.

“What?” You snarl, scrunching your face, glaring at him. Overcompensating with an edge. Hiding behind a thin disguise.

“You just went quiet. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says calmly despite the reckless edge you just threw at him. His fingers pass over the top of your head gently, smoothing your hair again.

“Eddie, I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.” You scoff.

“Jesus Christ. I try to be nice and this is what I get?” He huffs but there’s barely any malice behind it, just enough to rile you up.

“Eddie. You just fucking said I was the smart one here, don’t you think I can make my own decisions?” You retort harshly.

“I know you can, princess.” He says exasperatedly. “Fuck, I think I liked it better when you were quiet, can we go back to that?” He groans.

“Fuck you.” You spit aggressively, hands starting to tug down his denim. You half expected him to stop you but he doesn’t. Instead, when you get them down his thighs, he helps you, kicking them off to the side.

Left in his plaid boxers, you hook your fingers around the waist band, and look up to him for permission. With a nod, you pull them down, fabric pooling around his feet.

He bobs against his lower belly before settling in front of you. You try not to react, you can’t give him that. The mean part of you was hoping he’d be small just so you could use it against him, another part of you glows with excitement because he’s not. He’s perfect and you would never tell him that.

You take him in your hand and immediately his breath catches in his throat. Barely moving, a whimper rises in his chest. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

You spit in your hand, bringing it to his length, spreading it all over with both hands, making sure he’s nice and wet.

“Fuck.” He groans and you can’t help the amused smile that spreads on your lips.

“Eddie, I’ve barely even started, and look at you.” You tease, his cock jolting in your hands.

“Keep talking, princess.” He whispers, sounding almost desperate.

“You like when I talk?” You laugh. You start pumping slowly with your one hand, dragging back and forth over his hardness. “You just said you wanted me to be quiet.”

He shakes his head aggressively, eyes shutting.

“Like it when you talk, princess.” He moans.

You sit up straighter on your knees, bringing your mouth to his tip, licking just the head. His eyes shoot open, gaze immediately setting on you.

“You like that, Eddie?” You tease and he nods his head dumbly. “Want me to do it again?” He nods again.

You place a kiss to his tip, pulling back to watch his reaction but he doesn’t have any. In fact, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Eddie, you gotta breathe, can’t have you passing out just from getting your dick sucked.” You taunt. His mouth opens, sucking in a breath, his chest rising and falling harshly as he lets it out. “Look at you, such a good listener tonight.” You laugh, his dick kicking up in your hand again. You shake your head in amusement before placing another kiss to his tip.

You pull away entirely, pushing yourself off your knees, moving to your bed. He’s clearly not fit for standing right now.

When you sit, turning back to Eddie, he’s still standing in the middle of your room, hands brought to his face as he rubs aggressively.

“Eddie.” You call, getting his attention. He spins, pulling his hands away from his face, his bangs sticking up in all different directions. You pat the spot next to you and he’s quick to claim it.

“That’s better isn’t it?” You say as he lays down, hair spanning over your pillow.

“Better.” He says, voice cracking.

You settle between his legs, mouth watering as you take him in your hand again.

You dribble spit over the tip, letting it fall over the head before gathering it, spreading it with a twist of both hands up and down his cock.

“Gonna let me use my mouth now, Eddie? Or are you still desperate to hear me talk?” You tease, gaze finding his blown out eyes.

He nods but you tut.

“Wanna hear you say it, Eddie.” You coo, letting your eyes flicker over him. You stop your hand movements when he takes too long to reply.

“Princess, please put your mouth on my cock. Please.” He says, words practically a whine spilling from his lips.

You nestle closer to him between his thighs, dipping your face, licking up the underside of his cock before opening your mouth and letting it hit against your tongue.

You watch him carefully, reveling in the way he’s falling apart for you. His chest rises and sinks in steady pants, mouth set agape, as his wide eyes watch your every move.

Closing your lips around him, you let him slide in just enough for you to swirl your tongue around his tip.

“Fuck” He groans. You hum, not missing the way his thighs clench as you do.

His hand finds your head, combing your hair back, resting his palm against the side of your face. Most guys start pushing on the back of your head, but Eddie doesn’t.

Flattening your tongue, you take him deeper in your mouth, twisting your hands around him and meeting your mouth halfway up his length.

His other hand takes purchase on the mattress, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the comforter. It’s completely dichotomous to the gentle grip he holds on your face. It’s almost laughable.

You bring your head up and down before pulling off with a pop, spitting on the tip again, making sure your hands glide slickly along his length.

“Is that good, Eddie?” You ask before returning your mouth to his cock. Your added spit makes a slick, wet noise as you move your fists up and down on his length.

“Fuck, princess. S’really good.” He gasps breathily, his stomach tensing as your thumb wipes at the precum gathering on his tip.

You smile before parting your lips, taking him back in your mouth.

You take him further this time, his cock hitting the back of your throat and he whimpers pitifully. You do it again and his fingertips press in the slightest bit harder against your face, still not pushing you, just translating his pleasure through his touch.

You hollow your cheeks, sinking harder and faster, bobbing your head. His fingers weave into your hair gently and it spurs you on. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him slide right in until your lips meet your fingers at his base.

When you do it again, you push yourself a little too hard, gagging yourself, sputtering as you rise. With a deep, broken moan Eddie’s hips follow your mouth, only settling back to the bed when you pull off of him with a gasp as you catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpers under his breath.

You feel his cock pulsing in your fist, his hand tugging ever so gently on the roots of your hair and you start to think you might just like this too much.

You take him in your mouth again, all the way back to your throat, removing your hands entirely until your nose nestles against the wispy hairs above his shaft.

You exploringly let your fingertips tiptoe to his balls, taking them in one hand, massaging them gently.

“F-fuck. Fuck.” Eddie groans, stomach tensing sharply, his thighs squeezing against you.

You jerk your head on his cock, continuing to massaging his balls using the mess of wetness leaking down his shaft to help guide your skillful movements.

It’s not long before every bob of your head is being chased by the rise of his hips. He’s desperate for release, you both know it.

You flicker your eyes to him and he’s never looked more scattered. Bangs disheveled, cheeks rosy, brows pinched, half lidded eyes all dark and pleading, just for you. You do like it too much, you really, really do.

His gaze meets yours, flickering between you and your mouth.

“Doing so fucking good princess. Don’t stop. Please.” He whines. You hum contentedly, sinking onto him, hands still working his balls as they tense in your grasp.

His hand in your hair starts to sting as he pulls at it but he still doesn’t push you, he wouldn’t do that unless you told him to, you’re sure of it now.

His moans and whimpers rise, getting higher and longer, composing a symphony just for you. It comes to a crescendo when you take him all the way to his base again. His hips rise from the mattress, cock choking you, and you swallow around him, making him cry out a desperate moan that simmers into a broken whimper.

You know he’s close.

You hum to yourself, gulping him into your mouth, meeting his quick, uneven thrusts.

“I’m g-gonna cum.” He says in a strangled moan. His hand in your hair tugs impossibly hard, trying to pull you from him but you don’t let him. He doesn’t make your decisions, you do. He should know better.

You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and working him in your hands. The obscene, slicked noises coming from your movements fill the room, accompanying his moans, and he breaks.

For a moment, you watch him as he falls apart and it’s beautiful. Eyes rolling closed, face contorted in pleasure. It’s undeniably beautiful. You don’t let yourself drink in his beauty for too long though, that would be like admitting something and you wouldn’t do that so you refocus on the task at hand (and mouth).

Cum spurting to the back of your throat, you take him deeper a final time, swallowing it all down until you can’t. You pull up, feeling some leaking for the corners of your lips but you keep going, working him through his release as his cock throbs against your tongue.

He cums so hard that he’s babbling different versions of praises intermixed with your name. Your real name. Not princess, and it takes you by surprise.

“Fucking shit. F-Fuck.” He whimpers, hips sinking back to the mattress, stuttering. You slow your movements before pulling off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’.

His cock is shiny, the cum that didn’t get swallowed, gathering around his base. You flicker your eyes to him and he’s watching you now with a glazed over stare. Dipping your mouth to him one last time, you lick up the pearly shine and he looks at you like he might explode.

You pull away with a laugh, wiping your mouth.

His body deflates, melting into the mattress as he throws his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.

“Holy shit.” He groans.

You shift in between his thighs, hands disgustingly wet and sticky so you reach up, wiping both of them down the front of his shirt, leaving behind the glistening wet print of 10 fingers on the black fabric. You expect him to say something but his eyes remain closed, breathing still heavy.

With a gap between the two of you, you lay down beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes move up, taking in the rosiness of his face and the way it spreads down his neck. You even take the time to notice the delicate way his thick lashes lay atop his cheeks.

“You better not fall asleep here.” You sneer, shaking your head, forcing yourself to stop staring before he notices.

“Why not? Daddy’s not home is he?” He says, breathing still heavy.

“Don’t be a dick.” You retort. He pauses, sucking in a deep, steadying breath and letting it out.

“Pretty sure mine just melted off.” You see his smirk on his face, but his eyes remain closed.

“No, it’s still there unfortunately.” You say flatly, eyes flitting to his softening dick.

“Unfortunately?” He laughs.

“Yup.” You reply.

Eddie shifts the slightest bit, hand raising from his side as he blindly feels around the bed. When he touches your hip you try to swat him away but he grabs your hand, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Gross, stop trying to hold my hand!” You shriek, holding back your laughter as you try to shake him off.

“Princess, let me hold your fucking hand. You just sucked the soul right out of me, I need this.” He says with a laugh, grasp getting stronger with each shake of your wrist.

“You're so weird.” You say, hiding your amusement, trying to find any hint of malice to add to your words but it comes out meak.

Eddie lays there for a few minutes, your hand in his. You try to ignore his radiating warmth by thinking about the project you’re supposed to be doing with him but your eyes keep sinking to your hand in his.

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” Eddie says, turning to face you, opening his eyes finally. His question startles you, taking you aback.

“What?” You laugh.

“For school. What time should I pick you up?” He says again, speaking to you like you’re a child.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state. It’s not up for debate.

“You’re not playing hooky tomorrow, and if I pick you up, I can be sure of it.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight then tomorrow we can walk to school together.” He replies, tilting his face towards you and lifting his brows.

“You can't sleep here.” You object firmly.

��Princess.” He says warningly.

“Eddie.” You warn back. His eyes stare into you, making your stomach flutter with nerves.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my hands.” You say abruptly, pulling your hand from his.

“I’ll be here.” He sings teasingly.

“No. You. Won’t.” You reply stubbornly as you haul yourself off the bed and out of the room.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Nancy's words from earlier ring in your head.

‘He gets worse.’

The game you play is shifting. The dance is speeding up. It makes your heart beat too fast and your stomach flutter dreadfully.

Maybe she was right.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part 3 here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut

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luveline · 4 months

Note

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure.

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips.

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.”

You step over it and almost slip.

“Careful,” someone says.

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.”

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably.

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you.

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?”

“Let me help you with this.”

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock.

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down.

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?”

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.”

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving.

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.”

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack.

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.”

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…”

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.”

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested.

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.”

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly.

His voice is velveteen.

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.”

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.”

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I pay you back?”

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist.

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive.

“How would you do that?” you ask.

“Is there anything else you… need help with?”

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too.

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.”

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.”

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

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Note

Drabble request for dbf!joel getting blown under the table or something while he's having a convo with reader's dad?!?! IDK I just love your dbf!joel!!

You Can Be the Boss

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

warnings: rough oral (m receiving); petnames (angel, baby, sweetheart); age gap; choking; hair pulling; (yall this is pure pure daddy issues FILTH, I warned you. I warned you hard).

Hi y’all ty for sending me all ur requests. ummm you guys are insane ! and so am I ! maybe more because I’m actually the one writing these ! this one is so dirty ! don’t say I didn’t warn you !

more to come hehehe. I don’t tag ppl for my smaller drabbles / fics so turn on notifs or whatevs ;)

-em<3

—

“As close as I’ll get to the darkness, he tells me to, ‘Shut up, I got this.’”

- You Can Be the Boss

—

It was still a secret, after all.

Sneaking into his apartment, late nights in alleys, abandoned cars lining the streets of the QZ… you’d managed to keep your joint intoxication with one another under wraps.

Today… today was risky. You usually waited until the wee hours of the morning to even walk by his place, let alone enter, but you’d needed to drop off a sweater that Tess had leant you the previous week, intending to leave it folded up on the doormat before bolting down the hall. Your footsteps were nervous and heavy, which led to the door swinging wide open on its hinges, a gruff “where you runnin’ off to, Angel?” and a set of rough hands pulling you through the doorway.

Then you were spread open against the tattered table cloth of his (busy) kitchen table, underwear shoved to the side, watching a hunched over Joel Fucking Miller spit on his hand and run it up down his heavy, hard length.

“Shouldn’t come here during the day,” as he’d lined himself up, “Can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

That’s when you heard the definite sound of a key twisting inside a lock. Joel’s head shot up — your eyes barely had time to widen before he was shoving you under the table, panties still twisted around your ankles.

A quick zip, then footsteps.

“Oh, sorry man—”

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“—Tess said you wouldn’t be home.”

It’s your father.

You thank God for your his poor observation skills (and the tablecloth) as Joel responds, “ah, no worries,” frustratingly non-chalant as ever.

“While you’re here though,” and your heart sinks, identifying your dad’s intention to stay, “Was wondering if we could go over the plans for our new routes. FEDRA assholes blocked off another south-east one today.”

Your blood turns to ice inside your veins as both men pull out their chairs, settling into a purely-business conversation. Joel barely hesitates, cool as ice.

Not fair that he gets to be so calm while you’re so… not.

Not fair.

If only there was a way to even out the playing field.

Crunched into yourself, you scoot closer to Joel’s calves, clinging onto his denim and doing your best to make as little noise as possible. When it’s clear, however, that your father’s far too invested in the practicalities of the conversation to suspect or inquire into or even notice anything else, your eyes wander towards the slowly softening bulge, still visible underneath Joel’s belt.

And you get an idea.

The man always tortured you, and you were well aware that what made your arrangement especially enticing — for the both of you — was the taboo-ness, the wrongness of it all.

So your pussy drips just thinking about it.

Slowly, delicately, you slide your hands up Joel’s thighs, feeling his every muscle respond, tensing, turning to stone, or jolting with electricity beneath your playful touches.

It’s hard, quietly pulling down his fly. Still, metal tooth by metal tooth, you eventually succeed, unable to hold back a smile of vindication when his cock springs up, swelling and hardening between your fingertips. Joel covers his choke with a cough.

Just as you duck down to lick a fat stripe up his cock’s dark underside, noticing how the lungs above you constrict — freezing — the conversation changes.

“You been seeing a lot of my daughter?”

Joel takes an uncharacteristically long time to grunt out a “here n’ there.”

You hold in a laugh, both at your dad’s timely question and the reaction it causes. Placing a hand at the base of him, you consider this the perfect moment to start teasing his tip with patient, innocent little kitten-licks.

“Been acting weird,” your old man continues, unphased and unassuming, “Worried she’s been gettin’ herself into trouble.”

Trouble? You’re looking at him.

Your dad’s whole “fatherly concern” (not like he’d ever shown any before) angle makes you bold. You want to make it harder for Joel to deny your father’s suspicion.

You want to make him lie through his teeth.

You part your lips, wrapping them adoringly around the entire head of his cock before gliding down, using your hand to assist you as you please every inch of him.

While he mostly manages to keep it together, his legs don’t, gently parting with desire to allow you better access.

“She-she’s a good girl, man,” Joel manages, and while his delivery borders a groan, he stays surprisingly level (your body doesn’t forget to note his praise, either, aching cunt growing wetter and wetter at his every word). “‘Bit juvenile sometimes, and reckless—” he pauses, and it’s very clear he’s not speaking to your father, “—but good—” you work every inch of him with your hands, throat, and mouth, savouring the feel of his ridges and veins, the taste of his salt on your tastebuds, “—so good.”

You freeze, scanning the room for tension as both you and Joel try to figure out if his desire-stricken tone’s given you away.

It hasn’t.

Of course it hasn’t.

Your dad continues on as if everything were normal, as if Joel’s tip wasn’t kissing the back of your throat. “Just not sure if I’m raising her right—or… or if I was much of a father at all.”

Yeah, probably not. You know, given that I’m under the table sucking your best friend’s dick.

You watch, head still slowly bobbing up and down his length, a hand carving a careful path down his leg. Joel’s fingertips breach your shoulder, his palm slowly graduates to cupping the back of your head.

And he shoves you forward, forcing every punishing inch of himself down your little, gasping throat.

“Just needs a little discipline,” your torturer responds, raising his gravelly voice to mask the definite sound of choking.

“A heavy hand.”

You huff against his abdomen. Just like that, Joel’s taken the reins of your little operation.

Like he always did. Like he always does.

“You’re probably right,” your father responds, sighing with concession. Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes while your lungs burn for oxygen, mouth stuffed and nose pressed into Joel’s skin. He chuckles, slapping the table. “Give ‘em an inch and they take a mile, huh?”

“That’s right,” Joel responds, a soft coo, tightening his grasp in your hair and somehow forcing more of himself between your lips.

Making his point.

You hold back a whimper, nails hopelessly clawing at his jeans.

Your dad raps his knuckles against the wood, pushing his chair back to leave. Unfortunately for you, Joel doesn’t move, holding you there like a prisoner — suffocating you.

He clears his throat. “I’d walk you out, but, you know—” your eyelids grow heavy, little stars beginning to dance in your vision “—been goin’ hard recently. Wearin’ myself out.”

A huff of understanding and concurrence from the other side of the room.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, hinges squeak, goodbyes are uttered, and your father’s left you alone with his buddy again.

Joel’s chair scrapes back — he pulls you along with him, attached to him, out from underneath the table.

Finally, finally, he releases his grasp.

You jump off of him, strings of saliva trailing from your lips, gasping for air as if you were seconds from drowning.

You aim to collapse against his knees, but he quickly grabs you by the throat, presses his big thumb under your chin, and forces your wet, tear-lined eyes up to meet his.

They’re filled with a lust so dark, you wonder if just that look might swallow you whole.

“Prouda yourself?” He speaks, voice low.

Dangerous.

And you just smile, dazed, nodding. Nodding because you know where it’ll get you. Nodding because you just know how much it’ll entice him.

“‘Course you are,” he continues, softer, “Shoulda been honest — shoulda told your old man he raised a fuckin’ slut.”

Joel lifts you up, indelicately shoving you down on the table, right back in the position you’d originally started the visit in.

His eyes darken to black when he sees how wet you are, how fucked-out, needy, and unapologetic you are.

“And you know what, baby?” A deceiving coo as he lines himself up at your entrance, using his other hand to squeeze your jaw — tight.

You look at him with big, begging doe eyes, eyebrows already knitting together from the tantalizing contact.

“I’m really fuckin’ glad he did.”

And as Joel Miller roughly sheathes his cock inside your young, tight cunt, you find yourself agreeing with him.

—

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

AO3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #tlou #request for em’s answering machine: answered<3

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grimm-writings · 3 months

Note

OH SHIT I BETTER SEND THIS IN QUICK uhhh can i get some dr. ratio or screwllum cuddling/general fluff? im very tired and i think that could fix me

- i think you know who this is 💜

warmth

…ft! dr. ratio, screwllum x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, lotsa snuggling!!!!, non sexual nudity (ratio)

…wc! 323; 412; = 735

…notes! MY FRIEND I KNOW YOU!!!! ❣️ty for the request here it is!!! small and cute <3 also!! give it up for the new character banners!!! lmk if you liiiike <3

Veritas Ratio

“Care to join me?”

Veritas’s voice reaches your ears. You glance up at him, his figure relaxed in his bathtub through the bathroom door. His head is thrown back to look back at you.

“Sorry?” You clarify, folding a book closed over your thumb.

“You’re exhausted, evidently, seeing as how you haven’t moved on from that page in a number of minutes.”

Your face flushes in embarrassment. Nothing can get past your lover’s keen observations.

No use in arguing, you rationalise that Veritas has a point (like always). You slip off your clothes and join him in the bathtub. His hands land on your shoulders and rub down reassuringly. He’s welcoming you to relax – surprisingly tender, gentle.

As he rubs in some body wash, Veritas’s voice sinks you further into relaxation; “care to explain why you’ve been neglecting your rest?”

“It’s not like I’ve been wanting to,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my query, love.”

You sigh as you feel Veritas kiss the top of your head. You explain everything – your stresses as of late, and the overwhelming urge to just sleep forever. You’re so tired.

He hums in thought, violet hair falling in front of coral eyes. Oddly unmanaged in such an intimate place. “We can figure out some ways to rectify that later. For now, allow me to take care of you. Is that alright?”

A small giggle slips from your lips – Veritas is always asking permission. If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t be so soothing. It’s nice to know that you were special in that way. A warmth teasing to consume you whole as Veritas washes and rinses you down.

Yes, and it shall continue to grow as you are entangled in sheets later, his strong arms wrapped around your body. Rest. What was once unfamiliar becomes so easy with Veritas helping you.

You are inclined to believe that you had the best sleep of your life that night.

Screwllum

“Would I really be all that comfortable?”

“Oh shush, you’re plenty comfortable.”

Screwllum sighs (or at least makes a similar sound to one) at your refusal to accept that he might not be the greatest snuggle partner in the world. It’s no secret that he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word, but something like cuddling…

You can’t say he doesn’t try, resting your head on your chest and a hand in your hair. He pets you softly as another arm is lazily resting over your back. This way you wouldn’t really feel any metal underneath the layers of clothes.

“I hope you realise that I can feel how tense you are,” you hum from buried into the ruffles of Screwllum’s shirt.

“A-Apologies, I’m trying my best—”

“Are you nervous?”

As soon as you bring up the question, Screwllum’s already blank face seems to somehow blank more. Even if he is inexpressive, the message speaks volumes.

Fans whir louder in the silence.

You can’t help but burst into giggles. “I can’t believe it! All ready to fluster me with hand kisses and whatnot, but you fall apart as soon as we lay together!”

Screwllum stutters, trying to find some way to acquire his dignity back. “I just wish to please you… I’m not exactly the most popular choice for a romantic partner…”

“But you’re my choice,” you shoot back, leaning up to place a kiss on Screwllum’s face plate, the one where a mouth normally would be. The fans only prove a traitor to Screwllum as they whir louder.

The genius can only silently accept his fate as you smother him with kisses all over his metal encasing. “Dare I ask—” he’s cut off by one of your many mwahs! “Why do you torture me so…?”

You lean back, resting your chin on Screwllum’s chest again with a satisfied grin.

“When you get all shy, you get toastier.” You snuggle closer into a hug. “This is why you’re the best cuddler – you warm me up!”

Screwllum doesn’t react at first save for the heat dispelling from his body. Then dignified yet comfortable laughter slips through. You feel something land on the top of your head. You look up to see that your lover has placed his hat on your head and is ruffling your hair through it.

“Whatever will I do with you…?” He asks aloud.

“Snuggle me, maybe.” You cheekily grin.

Screwllum hums. “Well, suppose I’ll just have to comply.”

#✮ grimm's fics!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #screwllum #screwllum x reader #screwllum imagines #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio imagines #veritas ratio #veritas ratio imagines #veritas ratio x reader

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chryblossomjjk · 2 years

Text

practice (pt. 3) | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst

⇢ WC: 12.8k sorry

⇢ WARNINGS: emotional at points, fighting rip, oc lowkey in her villain era, they both say mean things to eachother (nothing tew intense), jk is not a himbo >:(, characters are forced to face their insecurites </3, misunderstandings, finger sucking, oral sex (f and m recieving), 69 action if u squint, brief ass eating, a little manhandling, titty sucking (obvi), flavored lube, butt plug moment, miss hitachi is finally here !!!, unprotected sex, corruption kink, squirting, overstimulation, slight dom jk, a bit of manhandling, praise, creampie, maybe unrequited love, maybe not (lol jk u'll find out), where's waldo but instead of waldo its bam

⇢ SUMMARY: sparks fly as you try to forget about jungkook.

⇢ NOTES: it’s finally here! if you haven't read pt 2 in a while, i'd suggest rereading it before reading this part! maybe even pt 1 bc callbacks. you might miss a few things if you don't. kinda nervy to post this bc everyone was so conflicted. hopefully the ending is satisfying for all. also sorry if the smut is meh, this piece was more plot driven than other things i’ve written. thank you so much for the love and support on this series. seriously cannot thank you guys enough. very bittersweet to be saying goodbye to it but i hope you stick around. love you and as always feedback is v appreciated !! big ty to @floweryjeons for betaing !!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

dumbo do u want lunch? i can drop it off in about 30

You were midway through a three hour lab and you really needed to focus. Unfortunately, the professor’s droning was easily overtaken by incessant vibrating. You peek at your phone with a scoff before shoving it back into your pocket.

Jungkook doesn’t get the hint.

dumbo i’ll just get the usu

dumbo lol i forget… ur lab is in room 305 in the civic engagement building right?

Room 222 in the science building. You don’t correct him, though.

It was difficult to ignore the sharp, self-inflicted stabs that pierced through your back whenever he texted you. But you had to rip the bandaid off before it had time to adhere to you entirely. You hadn’t talked to him in days. Not since he lied to you.

Whenever you had the urge to respond, you went through memories. Pictures of him looking unamused, pink pout scrunched up as you smushed his cheeks together. Videos of his nostrils fluttering as blaring snores filled your dorm room; your soft giggles in the background.

Little snapshots of the present that were now the past.

You were slowly weaning yourself off of Jeon Jungkook.

Your phone goes off again during your break.

dumbo hey i’ve been waiting for like 20 min

dumbo gonna head out since ur probably caught up. free until about 4 tho so text me if u want anything i’ll come back

dumbo or we can just get something after the showcase?

dumbo are you running late?

dumbo you know it starts at 7p right?

dumbo ik you hate being late so i’m starting to get nervous…

dumbo just let me know that you’re safe please

Those texts were sent nearly three hours ago. You’ve tried to distract yourself with homework, Sailor Moon, and the watermelon mask you were currently washing off your face. Nothing helped. The guilt lingering in your chest was heavy and you wish it would trickle down the drain like the abandoned products.

You sigh, shaking your hands vigorously to flick off the excess water. A damp knuckle presses your phone screen. It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday. Back at square one.

The scent of your green tea moisturizer fills your nostrils as you glide the creamy substance over your skin. Fingertips dancing gently across the surface of your plump cheeks. The touch is soft and delicate, just like his was-

Intrusive thoughts make you want to remove your frontal lobe.

You try to remind yourself that although vibrant and dashing, Jungkook was anything but your knight in shining armor. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Just like the rest of the men who tried to conquer the tall brick walls of your heart, mind, and body.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Despite the brightening mask, your dewy skin was dull. The inner corners of your big eyes were overtaken by winding red branches. The thick black bags under them appear even heftier than your beloved Playboy duffel. Your plump lips are coated in your Laniege lip mask. It’s candy-flavored, but it doesn’t taste as sweet anymore. You look lifeless.

Did cutting Jungkook off really affect you that badly?

Or perhaps you always looked like this, and the loss of him made you realize how truly gloomy and lackluster things were before.

For the past two months, your reflections were filled with pearly white teeth and crinkled eyes. Being with Jungkook was careless and irresponsible in all the right ways. Whenever you were with him, the negative thoughts that often plagued your mind were forgotten, and you were just… free.

But look where that got you.

The sound of your phone pinging brings you back to reality.

dumbo tae said that you’re home with mina…

Taehyung. What a little snitch. You’ll make sure that Mina punishes him adequately.

dumbo not sure what your deal is but i’m fucking heated

“What do you know, Taehyung?” You sneer his name like a curse; the nasty ‘T’ word.

“I know everything,” he responds nonchalantly, flipping through his absolute mammoth of a textbook. He nods his head toward the guilty party beside him. “Your bestie told me.”

“Liar!” Mina gasps, smacking his sweater-clad bicep. Her voice lowers immediately when Taehyung shushes her. You were in the library after all. She looks at you exasperatedly. “I didn’t tell him like- ‘everything’ everything.”

“I don’t need to know everything.” He closes the hardcover book gingerly, peering at you over the thick black rim of his glasses. You’re convinced they’re a sham, and he only wears them to look professional and intellectual. “My keen deductive reasoning has led me to the conclusion that this situation is—in fact—fucking ridiculous.”

You gawk at bluntness. “Aren’t you literally studying to be a therapist?”

“Psychiatrist,” he corrects with a cheesy grin. “I’m allowed to tell you when you’re being childish.”

“Tae, be nice.” Mina warns with a scowl, holding her index finger out right in front of his nose. “I know Jungkook is your friend, but he’s grimy.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to be a dick.” Taehyung laughs, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m just giving perspective. I care about you, __.”

“Sure you do.” You answer curtly, rolling your eyes.

“And-,” Taehyung claps his large palms together, fingertips pointed towards you in an accusatory fashion. “-I know Jungkook better than both of you.” He gestures between you and Mina. “He’s not a bad dude.”

“He-,”

“He ditched her to go to a party!” Mina beats you to the punch, voice whiny and frustrated. “And lied about it! He’s trash!”

“Thank you, Mina,” you whisper-shout, placing a finger over your lips to remind her, once again, that you were still in the library. As much as you love her, you didn’t necessarily want all of campus knowing your dirty laundry. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room for eavesdroppers. Luckily, it was fairly empty at this time of day.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“It’s not that simple, Tae,” you sigh, turning your attention back to the empty word document on your laptop screen. In the twenty minutes you’ve been sitting here, you have only managed to type the essay’s title and your name. Spelled wrong. Sneakily, you correct the typo before anyone notices.

“Maybe…” Mina starts, lips scrunching to the side in contemplation. She looks at her boyfriend innocently before tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Playing all the right cards. “Maybe… you could talk to him for her? Or do a little snoopy snoop to see what he’s up to?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m playing double agent for you guys.”

“Come on, Tae!” Mina pouts. “It could be fun!”

“No,” Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “I refuse to get in the mid-,”

“Hey!”

Taehyung’s words are cut off by an uncomfortably familiar voice. Its usual soft, playful tone was laced with sternness. The sound makes your spine straighten.

Jungkook.

You were so distracted that you hadn’t heard his clunky black boots stomping towards you. The firm grip of tattooed fingers on your shoulder makes you look up. Even under the rim of his bucket hat, you can see the angry stars dancing in his black eyes. They’re hot and scalding with irritation. “Can we talk?”

“About?” You peep in feigned naivety.

“Oh, please,” he scoffs loudly, laughing in disbelief. The seat beside you is yanked out with a startling screech. Jungkook plops down on it and turns to face you, knees digging into your outer thigh. Always so incredibly close. “Don’t give me that shit-,”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung calls, trying to stifle the bubbling lava in Jungkook’s stomach before he erupts. It was rare to see his happy-go-lucky friend so agitated. “Chill.”

His eyes soften at the warning. It’s like Jungkook hadn’t even registered how angry he had actually become. The entirety of his college experience has been spent distancing anger—and any other negative emotion—so far from his being that he couldn’t even detect the cues anymore. He inhales deeply through his nose, white t-shirt pulling tight at his chest, before exhaling.

“You good?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jungkook nods, bringing a hand up to massage slow circles into his temple. Despite how upset you are with him, the self-soothing mechanism makes your heart ache. “I promise, I’m calm. I just want to talk.”

His pupils dart between the two unmoving figures across from you.

“Alone, please.”

Jungkook and Taehyung lock eyes for a moment, communicating silently through some bro-telepathy that has you and Mina exchanging confused glances. Suddenly, the curly-haired boy nods, collecting his textbook and intertwining his fingers with Mina’s. “Let’s go, babe.”

“Tae, wait!” Mina protests, trying to wriggle out of Taehyung’s grasp. She looks at you apologetically as her boyfriend urges her towards the exit, unable to break free. “Call me after, okay?” She shoots Jungkook a threatening glare before turning away.

And just like that, you were left alone with the man you’d been avidly avoiding for the past week and a half.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook questions, silver piercing glimmering in the light as he gnaws on his bottom lip. The pink skin under his bunny teeth was already turning red. “Like… did I do something wrong?”

You look everywhere but him, mindlessly scrolling up and down the empty page on your laptop screen. It was a poor attempt to act unbothered, despite the heavy thumping in your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The showcase?”

“What about it?”

Jungkook always took your attitude in stride, leveling your petty comments with kisses and playful eyerolls. This eye roll, however, paired with a painfully clenched jaw, is anything but playful. “Quit playing games, __. I’ve had enough,” he grits.

He never calls you by your name.

“Playing games,” you echo with a sarcastic laugh. In the pit of your stomach, you can feel the sadness morphing into a fit of heady anger. The words taste vile and sour on your tongue before they’re spewed at him. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the puzzled expression on his face. Eyebrow piercing twitching in confusion as the cogs in his brain spin, trying to make sense of your words. “I don’t understand…”

How does he not understand?

“Why didn’t you come to the showcase?”

You huff out a sigh, gaze fluttering to the ceiling.

“Answer me,” he urges, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, clearly trying to shift your attention back onto him. As if that wasn’t what landed you in this position in the first place.

“Jungkook-,”

Your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel his sharp exhales fan across your cheek. Fast and restless. It makes you miss the deep, peaceful ones he would make when buried under your heavy duvet; hair disheveled from tossing and turning and the brush of your fingers as you lulled him to sleep. His breath smells like toothpaste and vanilla gum. You glance at your taskbar. It’s 12:23 p.m. and he hasn’t eaten yet.

“I didn’t go because this is unproductive,” you sigh, closing your laptop and finally gaining the courage to face the man beside you. “You being in my life is unproductive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Unproductive.” When your eyes meet his big dark ones, you can’t stand them. You can’t stand him for what he’s done, for how he’s turned something so special to you, so ugly. It coaxes that equally ugly, scaly, green defensiveness out of you. You want to retreat, and rebuild the walls higher, so that your emotional security would never be destroyed again. Anyone who threatened it would be burned, including Jungkook, sitting before you with doe eyes as you prepared to breathe fire in his direction. “I know it’s a difficult word, but you’re a big boy. Sound it out.”

The look on his face makes you regret the low blow instantly.

“Jesus,” he huffs, taking his hat off and scrubbing his hands over his face like he’s trying to wake up from a nightmare. “Why are you being-”

You cringe, expecting a nasty insult.

“-so mean?”

Oh.

Ow.

For some reason, that hurt more than any curse word would.

“I’m not mean.”

“I know you’re not,” he lifts his head, searching your face for any remnant of the girl he’s spent the last two months with. “So why are you acting like this?”

Your silence eggs him further.

“You know what, I’m so fucking sick of you treating me like I’m stupid,” his eyes squeeze closed when he swears, nails digging into his tattooed knuckles as he crosses his big hands. The confession rips through him and hits you like a physical blow. You suddenly remember all of the times you’ve teased Jungkook about his major or insulted his intelligence.

‘What tests? You’re a photography major.’

‘You’re an idiot, Jungkook.’

‘Your major is showing.’

You didn’t mean any of it. Not one bit. They were just shitty efforts to conceal your feelings for him. You never realized that Jungkook was taking your comments to heart. But it was too little too late. You can’t turn back time and the floodgates have already opened.

“Just because I’m not some big-shot science major, doesn’t mean that I’m fucking brainless. And it certainly doesn’t mean that you’re better than me.” With his hat sitting on the glossy wooden table, you can fully see the angry arch in his brows. The scrunch in his nose intensifies as he seethes. “What? You think you’re too good to go to the showcase? If you didn’t want to come you should’ve grown a pair and said something.”

“It’s not that,” you protest, chin quivering with ugly dents as you try to hold back tears. “I just… figured you’d bring someone else.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, cogs coming to a halt when he finally comprehends your vague statements. “Stop acting like you can read my mind- or that you know me better than I know myself.” He snatches his hat and drops it back on his head, fingers gripping the rim to adjust the position. “Because you clearly don’t know shit about me.”

You watch silently as he scoots his chair back, standing up with urgency. How did things come to this? Two months ago you were casual friends, now you’re fighting in the middle of the school library. You would’ve never let him into your dorm room that night if you knew it would hurt this bad.

“And I actually thought-,” Jungkook says, turning to face you. His lips open and then close promptly before he waves a hand at you. “Fuck it, nevermind. I’m done.”

You look extremely suspect.

Speeding through campus with your hood up, sweater strings almost dangling to the floor with how tight you’ve pulled them. You can barely see where you’re going. The small fluffy peephole you’ve provided yourself is no good for navigating the winding halls of the dreaded liberal arts building.

You’ve been sleeping in later and later; a recent habit. Most days you felt drained, barely able to muster the energy to crawl out of bed. That’s exactly what happened this morning, hence why you’re marching down this evil, forbidden shortcut, in hopes of making it to class on time.

It’s a Tuesday. Jungkook doesn’t have classes on Tuesdays. But you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him and the places he frequents. You haven’t heard from him since the.. incident. Not a single text or call. It hurt like hell, but what did you expect? You weren’t exactly nice to him the last time you two spoke. And it wasn’t like he cared to begin with. He was probably already buried in someone else; moaning blissfully. Meanwhile, you can’t even leave your damn room without thinking about him.

Shut up, evil brain. Back to the matter at hand—getting to class.

You decide that music is the best method of distraction. An exaggerated sigh slips out as you yank your phone out of your pocket. You’re just about to crank your airpods up when a couple of distant voices catch your attention.

“These are from this weekend's showcase, we’re taking them down next week…” A muffled response that you can’t comprehend. “Yep, all are my students.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

The professor’s prideful tone rings in your ears, drowning out whatever breakup playlist you were previously listening to. The mention of a showcase, the showcase, makes your heart drop with a painful thud.

Fuck.

Your skull feels exponentially heavier than normal when you lift it, finally breaking eye contact with the dingy concrete floor underneath you. There are pictures hung all along the white walls of the campus center. No doubt leftover from an event you deliberately skipped.

You roll your head back, attempting to loosen the uncomfortable tension in your muscles. Anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip, you take in your surroundings. Jittery hands pluck out your headphones and plop them back into your Luna-shaped airpod case. Underneath all the sadness and guilt, your body was teaming with curiosity.

You never found out what Jungkook’s topic of choice was. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen any of his photography. Ever.

A quick look wouldn’t hurt, right?

Besides, maybe this was what you needed to move on. A final goodbye to the man who has held your mind captive for far too long.

With a deep exhale and a heavy heart, you take the plunge and step forward. You lull along the walls, staring wide-eyed at each photo. Most of them take on a dark modern vibe, displaying people and objects in dreary settings. A sea of gray and black. Devoid of color. You glance at the labels above. The topics chosen were gloomy, too.

Hm. Life imitates art.

You wonder if those students have had their hearts broken as well.

A vibrant splash of color makes you halt. Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the canvas. There’s a blood-red rose. The lens is so zoomed in that the flower eats up the entire portrait. You place a manicured digit against it, tracing your fingertip along the jagged veins in the delicate petals. The imagery is surreal, almost comparable to a heart. Not a cutesy cartoon heart—the literal human organ. You think it’s stunning, standing out amongst the rest like a beautiful sore thumb.

The printed black font along the border makes your breath hitch.

Love - Jeon Jungkook.

The subject confuses you, but the photography makes sense. Of course, this was Jungkook’s work. It’s obnoxious, lively, and so incredibly different from the rest. Stunning and enchanting, nonetheless. The next photo in his set is of two shadows, a bit distorted as they're splayed against the concrete. A couple holding hands. You recognize the silhouettes immediately; Mina and Taehyung. You can’t fight the smile spreading across your face.

Next in the portfolio is a room, white walls decorated with faux ivy vines. The little, golden lights laced throughout them gives the picture a warm saturated glow. At the center of the photo is a woman laying underneath a cream duvet. Her bare back is facing the camera, messy hair sprawled on the pillow. It’s a bit risqué, but you get how it connects to his chosen subject. It’s the aftermath of the physical act of love.

To any other student or teacher strolling by, the woman in the picture was a stranger. But to you, she’s the farthest thing from a stranger.

She’s you.

Jungkook must have taken it while you were sleeping.

A wave of the most perplexing, juxtaposing emotions washes over you. Your palms turn clammy as you try to process what you’re witnessing. Why would he do this? Include a picture of you in a project, literally titled ‘love’, only to fucking lie to you? To take advantage of your affection and string you along while he entertained another person?

You find the answers to your aimless questions in the next photo.

Fireworks.

The only time you remember seeing or hearing fireworks was…

The night of the party.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, pressing your damp forehead against the grainy wood of his door. You never thought you’d be in this position. Chasing after a man. It’s humiliating and out of character, but you need to make things right. “I know you’re in there…”

You’ve been standing outside of his dorm room for the past ten minutes. Knocking, pleading, begging. All to no avail. The sound of rustling blankets and footsteps on the other side makes you lift your head, eyes widening with hope. The optimism is lost once the soft noises stop completely. They only served to confirm your suspicions. Jungkook is home and he’s purposely ignoring you.

Oh, the irony.

Earlier in the week, the roles were reversed. Jungkook was the one pining for your attention. Now, you know exactly how he must have felt that day in the library. And you don’t like it one bit.

“Look,” you huff, shaking a few clumpy strands out of your face. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now… but I’m really sorry.”

The only response you receive is the whoosh of running water.

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Obviously, he’s not going to answer the door. Why would he? He had every right to be mad. You hadn’t hesitated to dismiss him, and his passions, when you were the one upset.

You come to the grim realization that maybe things are better this way.

Jungkook is completely, entirely, wholeheartedly different from you, and you from him. So much so that you were incompatible. You’ve barely dipped your toes into anything serious, yet the two of you were already fighting and miscommunicating. It would never work, whatever it is. It couldn’t.

Deep down in your heart, you know none of that is true.

As much as you try to rationalize the distance, you can’t convince yourself that your life is better like this—because whenever you picture a future with Jungkook or reflect on the past, you see and feel nothing but sunshine. The walls begin to crumble and you feel free. Maybe, the characteristics of Jungkook you deemed annoying and different, were what made being with him so euphoric.

But none of that matters anymore. Whatever chance you had at that, at something more with him, you've completely destroyed. With a grimace and an awful pit in your stomach, you decide the best thing you can do for him is leave him alone. You adjust the takeout bags in your hand and begin to head out.

Just as you reach the end of the dingy hallway, you hear a click and a loud creak. You spin so fast you almost get whiplash.

Jungkook is standing in his doorway, looking at you blankly with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He’s shirtless, full muscles rippling under his milky skin. Normally you would ogle at the sight of his toned chest and defined abs, but your focus is elsewhere. Like on the red flannel sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips, sharp v-line peeking over the hem. You recognize them from the night you helped him study for an upcoming quiz.

‘This is a conspiracy,’ he grumbled, convinced the test was an elaborate scheme by the school committee to punish him for his frequent drunken mishaps and countless guideline violations. You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder as you helped him memorize terms and ideas. You guys didn’t leave the library until 2 a.m.

He looks warm and cozy. Dark tresses swooping in messy waves across his forehead as he peers at you with doe eyes. After not seeing him or checking in on him for a while, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he mumbles softly, voice coming out muffled over the bristles of his toothbrush. He pulls it out, letting out a tiny ‘oops’ as a glob of toothpaste hits the floor. He wipes it away with his foot before continuing. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Everything you wanted to say had trickled out of your mind like the little droplets of water running down your skin.

He meets your silence with an unamused squint and starts to close the door.

“Jungkook, wait!” You shout, taking a few frantic steps closer. “I saw the showcase!”

He pauses. “You did?” His thick brows slant in confusion. “How?”

“It’s still up in the liberal arts building.”

He nods his head slowly as an awkward quietness falls over the corridor. You can tell he’s still upset with you and the tension makes you queasy.

“I have pancakes,” you offer nervously, lifting up the crinkled plastic bags in your hand. It’s so damn cheesy. But you're trying your best. You prayed that he understood the reference, and remembered how he showed up to your dorm in the same exact way. The fateful night that started it all.

“Interesting.” His nose twitches as he tongues the little hoop on his bottom lip. Obviously fighting a smile. Thank God. “What kind?”

“Chocolate chip… your favorite.”

He hums a contemplative noise, scanning you up and down. Your hair is dripping. The pink velvet hoodie you’re wearing is clinging to your figure in ways he knows it isn’t supposed to. “Why are you wet?”

“It’s raining,” you point out.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, glancing into his room and out the window at the cloudy, gray sky. There’s a change in his expression when he faces you again. “You walked here in the rain?”

You nod meekly.

The harsh glint in his eyes softens. He sighs deeply, head dropping in defeat as he holds out a colorful arm, inked digits gesturing for you to come closer. “C’mere, Bambi. I’ll get you some clothes.”

Bambi.

You’ve never been so elated to hear that nickname.

“Thank you,” you peep, scurrying towards his open door before he changes his mind and sends you packing. Goosebumps form on your skin when your bicep brushes against his bare chest as you hastily enter the room. The light touch leaves your cheeks hot.

“Hold on,” he says, disappearing into his tiny bathroom. You set the pancakes on top of his nightstand, awkwardly standing in the middle of his dorm. This isn’t exactly how you envisioned your first time at Jungkook’s place would go.

While idly taking in your surroundings, you spot a little whiteboard above his bed. On it, scribbled in blue marker, is the biggest boobs you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a heart eyes emoji tacked on in the corner. A good artistic detail, you think. You should be rolling your eyes at his boyishness. That’s what you always do. But an endeared laugh comes out instead.

Why was a poorly drawn pair of tits making you soft?

Right underneath the whiteboard is a collage of taped pictures. You bend at the waist for a better look. There’s a polaroid of him and Taehyung, arms intertwining at the elbows, both downing a dark, probably alcoholic, beverage. How cute of them. The next photo is of Jungkook on a rollercoaster, tongue out and eyes crinkled as he middle fingers the camera. So wild and free. Your heart swells in familiarity.

But the more you stumble upon, the more unfamiliar Jungkook becomes. There’s a few blurry pictures of a big black dog he’s never spoken about before. The next one has you gushing. It’s a candid image of baby-faced Jungkook, holding up his high school diploma with a proud, big, bunny smile. There’s an older woman in the frame kissing his cheek. You tilt your head in confusion. You wonder if it’s his mother. You had just assumed he couldn’t stand his parents and didn’t keep in contact with them.

Maybe… you don’t have Jungkook figured out like you thought you did. There’s still so much you have to learn. You make a mental note of all the questions you want to ask him later.

That is if there even is a later.

The bathroom door opens and Jungkook walks out. “Here,” he says, handing you a pile of neatly folded clothes. There’s an oversized black hoodie on top. Your favorite sweater, the one you always steal from him. You watch sullenly as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry,” you reiterate, absolutely loathing how weak and frail you sound. Jungkook doesn’t respond. He just stares into your soul with those scrutinizing eyes. “Can you talk to me, please?”

“I wanted to talk at the library,” he groans, arms jolting forward in frustration, fingers painfully flexed and hooked like claws. His bare chest flushed an angry red. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. All fucking week!”

Startled, you jump at his voice, dropping the stack of clothes you were holding. Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Ah, I-'' he interrupts himself with a shameful hiss. You pick up the fallen fabrics with shaky hands, placing them on his nightstand with the forgotten pancakes. Jungkook digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, too apologetic and embarrassed for losing his cool to look at you. “I’m sorry.”

To be fair, he hadn’t been that loud. It was more abrupt than anything else. But your Jungkook was as happy and carefree as the wind. This side of him was new, and you were still figuring out how to navigate the uncharted waters. “It’s okay.” You can’t blame him. Not after everything you’ve done. “You’re allowed to be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he sighs. The tattooed fingers splayed over his eyes slide in to clamp the bridge of his nose. The other hand pats the spot next to him on the black comforter. “Come here.”

“But,” you look down at the damp clothes, “I’m wet.”

“It’s fine. Sit down.”

You listen, cautiously sinking down into the bed. Despite the copious amounts of nude escapades, you’ve never felt more vulnerable with him. Usually, when you’re in bed with Jungkook, he’s panting above you, sleeping below you, or lying beside you. Head snuggled into your neck like an annoying, albeit affectionate, cat. Now, you make sure to keep your distance, anxiously picking at your chipped nail polish.

“What happened?” He questions breathlessly, relieved to finally verbalize the words that were weighing heavy on his chest. “Everything was going great and then you switched up on me. Like the showcase? Really, Bambi? I was the only person there without a guest.”

The disappointment in his voice cuts you deep, but the vision of him at the event he had been so excited for, completely alone, hurts even worse. You were his muse, and you rejected him. Looking at him was an awful decision, because you get lost in his eyes immediately. Those beautiful, captivating, endless eyes. Filled with pain and uncertainty. You realize the only way to make that awful look disappear, is to confess…

“I really like you, Jungkook… a lot. Like- more than just friends…”

Once again, you’re met with silence. Jungkook’s face is unreadable yet so familiar. You've seen that expression before. You can’t pinpoint when or where exactly, but it makes your heart pound so loudly that your ears ring.

“So,” you continue shakily, “the last time we hung out—when you canceled our plans—I got really upset.”

“I was finishing my project.”

“But then I saw a picture of you at a party-,”

“Yeah,” he defends, looking at you exasperatedly, unable to follow your train of thought. “I wanted to take pictures of the fireworks.”

“I know that now,” you admit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “but the picture was from Nayeon’s Instagram.”

“Nayeon?” He frowns. “I haven’t talked to Nayeon in months.”

“But you guys were-” your eyes dart around in search of the right phrasing. You settle on ‘a thing’, putting little air quotes around the ambiguous title.

“Why does that matter?” He asks incredulously. “Her and I ended things before we even started hooking up. I haven’t had sex with anybody else since we’ve been a thing.” The last part is teasing, he mimics your air quotes as his pierced pout curls into a smirk. Ah, Jungkook gets it now. Your unbecoming actions over the course of the week were a product of jealousy and possessiveness. Any lingering trace of anger is washed away with the revelation. “I told you that.”

“Yeah, but…” After mulling over your thoughts, you hesitate to speak. You hadn’t realized how ridiculous and childish you were being until now. Taehyung was right after all. “I don’t know, the way you said it seemed… fishy.”

Jungkook deadpans you before shaking his head, chuckling under his breath. You watch it all unfold awkwardly. How embarrassing.

“It’s not funny, Jungkook!”

“Ah!” He echos your shouts through a laugh, cupping your head with his large hands and jittering it gently. “Stop thinking! Your brain is evil!”

Hm. Valid point.

“In my defense,” you retort, cuffing his wrists with your tiny hands. His skin is warm and soft. You’ve missed touching him so much. “You literally mentioned Nayeon while we were having sex.”

The playful stars in his eyes combust. “Huh?”

“Oral fixation.”

His eyes widen in remembrance. “Oh shit,” he groans, slumping down, hands dropping into his lap. “Looking back, that was so fucked, but I- I just thought it was funny. I swear I didn’t mean anything, like- bad by it. I-.” Frustrated by his own stuttering and lack of judgment, Jungkook mushes his fingers into his sockets before laying down in defeat. “That was so fucking stupid of me. I’m stupid. I’m sorry, Bambi.”

Stupid.

That word coaxes a visceral reaction out of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. His tattooed fingers part in the middle as he hesitantly peeks at you. You giggle for a moment, and so does he, but then you feel the gravity of the situation. Sniffling, you look down at the beautiful boy. How could you have ever been so nasty to him? You push his bangs back gently. They’ve gotten longer. Cupping his cheek, you slowly brush your thumb across his soft skin. You’re afraid that if you’re too rough, he’ll slip right through your fingers. “You’re not stupid, Jungkook... I’ve never met anyone who sees the world how you do. You’re so creative and clever in your own right… I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t, because I don’t think that at all.” Voice crack. “I never did.”

“Hey,” Jungkook coos in concern. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you argue, blinking furiously to fight back the waterworks. “And I’m really sorry about the showcase. I know how important it was to you.”

“Shh,” he shushes, “please don’t cry.” He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your fingertips. “You apologized, so we’re good, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you sniffle. It feels like a ton of bricks have been lifted off of your shoulders. “For what it’s worth, your portfolio was gorgeous.”

“Nah,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist and encouraging you to lay down with him. “You’re only saying that because you were in it.” You smile softly, thankful for his light-hearted banter. You stay like that for a while. Face to face. Just looking at one another. You think you could stay like this forever, basking in his beauty. His warmth. Jungkook speaks first. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about the picture?”

“I guess, I was just scared of losing you… but then I just started ignoring you, which doesn’t make sense… so probably should’ve just talked to you about it.” The stream of consciousness makes him laugh. “I really like you, Jungkook.”

“I don’t do relationships.”

You feel your heart shatter into a million, irreparable pieces.

How cruel.

“Wait, those aren’t the right words,” Jungkook shakes his head. “What I meant to say is that I’ve never actually been in a relationship.” The stammered admission has you stunned. Campus fuckboy Jungkook has never been in a relationship? “And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing but… I really like you, too. I want you, I do… I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I’ll be but,” he looks at you for the first time throughout his nervous ramble. His eyes are just as terrified as yours. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

You blink at him. Did he just say… boyfriend?

“__,” Jungkook calls, anxiously toying with his lip ring. “Do you want this?”

You’ve never wanted anything more.

Without warning, you smash your lips into his. This kiss is sloppy and brash, but he’s yours. Jungkook is yours. “I think you chipped my tooth,” he winces, chuckling breathlessly. “Is that a yes?”

You nod vehemently.

“Okay,” he smiles, tilting your chin, “now give me a real kiss. None of that amateur shit you just pulled.”

You kiss him again, head full of clouds and tummy full of butterflies. Jungkook grabs under your thighs, maneuvering you on top of him, knees on either side of his cinched waist. Your lips are more controlled this time. There’s a little tongue action. Nothing too dirty, just soft brushes and prods like you’re two virgins testing the waters. Everything is slow and unhurried. You feel like you’re floating, levitating, fucking astral projecting.

“There we go,” Jungkook grins, the rounded tip of his nose tickling yours. It’s so sappy, and you can only imagine how dumb you two look, staring at each other with sparkly eyes and goofy smiles.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, though.

A sneaky hand and the grinding of a zipper interrupts the cute moment.

“You perv!” You shriek, giggling wildly as you swat his naughty fingers away. The damage is done, and the sleeve of your open sweater slips down your bare shoulder. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Mm,” he hums in confirmation, placing a peck on the newly exposed skin. “Sex with you,” he specifies before peeling the damp material from your arms and tossing it onto the floor. You cringe at the clanging of your expensive, deadstock, Juicy Couture hoodie. “Why are you so covered up?” Jungkook sits up to suck on your erect nipple, right through your translucent, white tank top. Whimpering, you grind against him. “You gotta take this off…” he sighs dreamily, yanking the pesky shirt over your head.

Wow. He’s extra needy today. Not that you’re complaining.

“Jungkook,” you complain, arms crossed over your chest. “Stop staring!”

“Why are you being so shy?” He does this often. Gawks at your naked body until your skin burns and your cheeks sting. It's a strange feeling. So uncomfortable yet so reassuring. You’ve never had a man look at you the way Jungkook does, like he’s trying to remember every birthmark, curve, and detail. That level of intimacy was scary. You can’t help but squirm under his intense gaze. “You’re my girl now, aren’t you, baby?

His girl. You swoon.

“I am, it’s just kinda awkward.”

“How so?” He patronizes, bottom lip jutting out in a deep pout. “Can’t I look?”

“You can just… don’t stare.”

“I do what I want.” The sudden switch in his voice makes your breath hitch. “Move your arms. Let me see you.”

Oh. He’s in one of those moods.

You and Jungkook rarely dabbled in sub and dom dynamics. Maybe, he was too afraid of intimidating you. Maybe, you were too afraid to initiate. But boy was his aggressiveness a treat. The duality between the relaxed attitude he carried in his everyday life, and the occasional primal beast that came out during sex, made your mouth water.

“Really?” He tuts his tongue when you counter him with a scowl, raising a threatening brow at you, code for ‘go ahead, test me’. You do, not moving a muscle.

Jungkook physically pries your arms apart and twists them behind your back, holding your wrists together in one hand. The swift movement makes you gasp.

“This okay, Bambi?”

All you can see over the bubbles of your cheeks is his tangled, black hair. His forehead rests against your collarbones, sharp exhales fanning across your chest. The hot gusts make your nipples pebble and the light stimulation sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your spine.

“Yes,” you whimper.

Using his free hand, Jungkook grips your jaw, indulging you in a sweet kiss. “Good girl.” The whispered praise has your clit throbbing. He turns your face towards the sleek mirror mounted on the wall. “Look at you, baby.”

Insecurity looms over you like a black raincloud as you’re forced to look at the reflection. The sight of your nude body makes you feel icky. Instinctively, you try to jerk away.

“Hey, stop-” he gruffs, tightening his grip to cement you in place. “Chill. Take a deep breath.”

You obey, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

“Why are you so combative today?” The rough edge falters for a moment when Jungkook confirms that he ‘just learned that word yesterday from a synonym website’. You giggle. Why must he be so adorable? “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“You do.”

“Do you trust me?” You nod. “Use your words, baby.”

“I trust you, Jungkook.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, making you face the glass again. His touch is much more gentle this time, guiding you with a delicate finger on your chin. “Don’t look at me,” Jungkook chuckles when he catches you staring at him and then points at your bewildered expression, “eyes on you.”

Despite the initial resistance, looking own reflection isn't as difficult as it was the first time. There’s little things you pick up on, like the way your thick, fluffy hair lays. The way your chest looks so supple pressed against his. How your hips curve out at the right angle. Your skin is smooth and poreless. That Laneige toner is really out here doing the lord's work.

“Look at how beautiful you are.”

Although Jungkook’s words are sweet, you wouldn’t go that far. But you guess, one could say you’re cute—which is more credit than you’ve given yourself in a while.

“Aren’t you so beautiful, baby?”

You hum to appease him, but this experience was definitely a start. You’re gaining self-confidence, one baby step at a time. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“You think so?” He asks airily, flashing one of those teeny tiny smiles he does, where only his two front chompers poke out. You swear this man is an angel, or some mythical being that was too ethereal to exist on planet Earth. Mumbling a small ‘uh huh’, you peck at the corner of his mouth. His silver hoop feels icy against your lips, but his hands, rubbing soothing lines up your back, are so warm. “I wish you saw yourself the way I do,” he says with sparkly eyes. “How could I want anyone else, Bambi?”

Your heart swells two sizes too big and you don’t even know how to respond.

“Alright, space girl,” Jungkook chuckles at your ditzy state, delivering a quick swat to your ass to bring you back to reality. An impatient, tattooed arm is hooked under your thigh, tossing you to the side before he gets to his feet. “Lay down. ‘S been a while since I ate that pussy.”

“Wait,” you say, unphased by his lewd comment. “Can I…” you look down at his crotch, “you know?”

“What?” He smirks at your vagueness. “Suck my dick?”

Foreplay normally consisted of Jungkook’s head between your thighs, his fingers milking your g-spot, or a shy handjob here and there. Now that he’s your boyfriend, you suppose it’s finally time to return the favor. Especially since he looks so delicious with his messy hair and his pretty tits out.

“Please,” you choke, cheeks burning with embarrassment at how quickly the plead slipped out.

“You don’t have to beg,” he purrs, stepping between your parted thighs sat at the edge of his bed. You gulp, nose aligned with his growing bulge. “Actually, yes, you do,” he retracts, swiping his big thumb across your bottom lip tauntingly. You’re dripping, already knowing where things are headed. “Been a bad girl lately, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout, shrinking under his beady eyes, peering right at you over his big nose. “But you said we’re passed that.”

“We are,” he agrees, “but I could use some reassurance. Wanna give me a little bit, baby?”

“How?”

“Suck it,” he requests, tapping his thick digit against your deep frown, “show me how good you’re gonna blow me… just so I know…”

God, you can’t deny him. Not when his voice is drenched in lust and he looks that yummy. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you grab his wrist, taking his thumb into your mouth, all the way down to his palm. Moaning, you swirl your tongue around the pad. He plays along, plunging and pulling his finger into your wet suction. Your lips are going to look so fucking pretty around his cock, Jungkook thinks.

“‘Kay, no more,” he says, voice strained as he yanks his hand away. The movement makes you accidentally bite your tongue. Asshole. He proceeds to tangle his spit-covered hand into your hair. Major asshole. With a thick fistful, Jungkook shoves you into his clean-shaven pelvis. “Am I hard yet? Check for me?”

He knows he’s hard. You know he’s hard. But you indulge him anyway, mushing a sloppy kiss into his v-line. The view of his eyes is disrupted by the heavy heaving of his chest, and his cute little nipples; spiked and erect. Dipping down, you place a loving peck on the tip through his pants. The red material is damp from his arousal. “Yep, hard.”

“Cute,” he laughs in reaction to how sweet and innocent you look down there. “Take it out, then.”

You tug his pants down, letting them pool at his ankles. His boner springs up with vigor, whacking you in the nose on its path up to his navel. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, smacking a hand over his mouth in guilt. You glare at him, suspicious of how genuine that ‘guilt’ really is. Something you’ve noticed about Jungkook is that his smiles reach his eyes first. You don’t need to see his lips to know he’s holding in a laugh. The little stars in his irises and the crinkles in the outer corners blow his facade. “You okay, Bambi?”

“Control your dick, Jeon,” you sneer.

“Can’t,” he pouts, wrapping his palm around his tree-trunk-sized base while kicking his pants aside, “he wants you.” You’re impressed at how quickly he steers the conversation back to sex. Also, personifying his dick? That’s new. Clicking his tongue, Jungkook measures his hard cock across the length of your face. If it wasn’t for the curve, his pretty pink tip would be touching your hairline. “How’s he gonna fit, baby? You sure you can take it?”

The questions were rhetorical, purely dirty talk, but they held a piece of the intimidating truth. “I don’t know,” you respond honestly.

“Have you ever done this before?” Sensing your nerves, he pulls back a bit.

“Only once,” you shiver, recalling the questionable memory. “So I don’t know how good I’ll be at this…”

“Pfft,” he dismisses your concerns, “don’t worry about that.” He pets your cheek and you nuzzle into his touch, thankful for the comforting gesture. Then, Jungkook plops down, shimmying up the bed clumsily until he’s hunkered down in his pillows. Following suit, you turn to face him and begin tying your hair up.

“Wait!” He hollers, stopping you at the elbow. His eyes widen at his own unexpected outburst. “Leave it, please. I like it down…” he coughs, “so pretty.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your frizzy baby hairs shooting wildly in all different directions. Pretty? Regardless, you let go, messy strands falling in loops against your chest and back.

“I have flavored lube if that helps. In my nightstand.”

Of course, Jungkook owns flavored lubricant. It's pretty on-brand for him. But your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you open his top drawer, unveiling almost an entire Adam & Eve store.

That’s a stretch and you’re dramatic.

Still, you stare in wonderment. There’s an unopened pack of condoms, ‘ribbed for her pleasure!’ printed on the front in purple letters. The blue and white wand next to it makes you choke. The Hitachi. It’s much bigger than you expected, but it makes sense. If it’s as powerful as Jungkook boasted, it must need a fucking car battery. You gulp.

“Snooping through my things, Bambi?”

“No,” you squeak, shaking your head. “You have quite the collection here, Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Jeon, that’s sexy,” he laughs, making you jump with an unexpected smack to your ass. “See anything you like?”

Cheeks ablaze, you stay focused, finally spotting the little aqua bottle of… blue raspberry flavored lubricant? You pick it up, causing a shiny piece of metal with a little glint of pink to roll out.

“Really, dude?”

Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion until he sees the silver butt plug, decorated with a pretty pink gem on the end. Absolutely perfect for you. “Oh, yeah,” he snatches the toy from your clammy hand and eyes it with pride. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“I can’t believe you actually bought one.”

“Why not? I said I was going to.”

“I know,” you huff with a nervous snicker, “but I didn’t think you were actually going to do it.”

“I mean,” he looks at you like you’re brainless, “you like anal, no?”

“No!” You shriek defensively. Anal play wasn’t even on your sexual radar...

Well, that’s not entirely truthful.

You enjoyed it the last time you had sex with Jungkook, in the shower, getting stretched out by his thick thumb in your butt. You remember how mindblowing and pleasurable it felt to be full. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he smiles reassuringly. “We don’t have to use it. I just figured it’d be nice to have, in case you wanted to experiment, you know?”

He’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes you ill.

Now that you think about it, your sexuality is basically untapped. You’ve barely scratched the surface of self-discovery. Before Jungkook, you’ve never had a man care about your pleasure, or encourage you to take risks for your own sake. No ulterior motives. Being with Jungkook was like skydiving. Horrifying at first, life-changing once you took the plunge. With him, the parachute was there whether you decided to jump or not. You know that you’re safe, so why not take the plunge?

“Actually, Jungkook,” you stammer, “I kinda wanna try it… the butt plug.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

The conviction in your voice is like a beautiful ballad in his ears. Brick by brick, you’re opening up. Every day spent together, the walls erode a bit more.

“I got the smallest size I could find, see?” He holds the toy up to his thumb to demonstrate. It’s only a little longer, a little thicker. “So it’s not that far off from what you’re used to.”

“Thank you, baby,” you gush, planting a fat kiss on the dough of his cheek. The contrast between his bready, baby face and his razor-sharp jawline makes you dizzy. You need him in your mouth asap. “Can I suck your dick now?”

“Absolutely, but first can you-,” his index finger twirls in a circle. You blink at him blankly. “Ah, fuck it.” Deciding it’d be much easier to move you himself, Jungkook sits up at the waist to spin you until you're face to face with his third leg, resting patiently against his stomach. The modified 69 has you creaming. “Like that…” he mumbles dreamily, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your track pants, tugging them down your thighs to expose your perky behind and glowy cunt.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Innocent little thing…” he whispers, smoothing a palm over your lower back. He leans up to chomp on the fat of your ass cheek, leaving bunny-toothed dents in your skin. A predator eating its prey. “Want help?”

“Please,” you mewl, melting under his touch.

“Spit,” he orders, cupping an inked hand under your mouth. Reluctantly, you spit into his palm. He uses your saliva to wet himself, coating his unbearably hard cock with a few languid pumps. Opening the cap, Jungkook squirts a little drop of lubricant onto his finger. “Taste.”

You softly suck on his fingertip. The liquid is sweet like a blue raspberry jolly rancher, but it’s not nearly as sweet as Jungkook’s deep guttural moan and hooded gaze. So worked up just for you. Only you. Yours.

“This, too,” he coos, bringing the butt plug up to your lips, “suck it.”

Seeing him this needy and touch-starved was doing things to you. Maybe you should ignore him more often, if it meant that he would be this feral. You comply, wrapping your lips around the icy metal.

“Being so good, baby,” he affirms, resting the drenched plug against his solid stomach before squirting a generous amount of lubricant onto his length, tugging until he’s glistening with a sticky blue sheen. Big and pretty. “Just start with the tip, alright? Go slow.”

You nod, mesmerized by the little bead of dew resting on the slit of his pretty pink head. Well, it’s a bit blue now. Cotton candy. Yummy.

“Stick your tongue out.” You do, hovering closer. Jungkook taps his length against your tongue with nasty, wet smacking noises. “You want me so bad, don’t you?”

You nod impatiently, making your flat tongue brush against the crown of his leaking cock

“Fuck,” he groans, “put it in your mouth.”

There are a few reasons why you find blowjobs problematic. Unfortunately, you were cursed with an annoyingly overactive gag reflex. Very unideal for dick sucking. However, your primary concerns were taste and texture. But Jungkook’s cock feels like butter when you take it into your mouth. Smooth and silky. And the lubricant made him candy-flavored.

“You like that taste, Bambi?” Jungkook chuckles at how eager and dutiful you look, licking and sucking on his swollen tip like a lollipop. You hum in response, slowly swirling your tongue around his tip with purpose. Giving you a hand, literally and figuratively, Jungkook starts stroking the shaft, stimulating the parts of him you have yet to gobble up. “Want more?” You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but you agree anyway, completely entranced by him. With that, Jungkook squeezes under the tip, and you feel a tiny burst of precum hit your tastebuds.

He’s so sexy you could die.

Moaning, you clench your thighs together for some much needed friction, causing a single drop of wetness to trickle down your leg. Right before his very eyes. He’s never been so hungry, and it would be so easy to just…

“Jungkook!” You moan so loudly you’re sure everyone on campus can hear it. He had laid his tongue flat, trailing your arousal back up to your pussy and then sensually dipping between your folds in one hot lick. He even traces higher, prodding against your other hole until you’re seeing stars.

“Watch your teeth,” he winces when you get carried away, “be gentle, baby.” Peeping a shy apology, you curl your lips over your teeth and slide down past the tip until you’re halfway down his length. You focus on your breathing, nostrils expanding as you inhale deeply. “That’s it, take more.”

So captivated by his ‘yeahs’ and ‘uh huhs’, you miss the sound of a cap clicking open. Suddenly, you feel a cold drizzle slide between your cheeks, before a pair of warm hands spread the slippery substance all over. He uses the residual to thoroughly coat the butt plug.

“Gonna put it in now.” He spreads you open with one hand, pressing the silver against your clenched muscle. “Let me know if anything feels off.”

The initial push is a bit much. You pull off of him with a wet pop, whimpering as he sluggishly inserts the foreign object. He stops at the sound of your whines.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah- fuck,” you grunt, “big, thas all. Please, keep going.”

“I mean, it’s not that big,” Jungkook chuckles, running some saliva over the toy for more moisture, “you’re taking it well, though.” Slowly but surely, he works you open. The noises you moan around his cock are obscene. Not because it hurts, but because it’s so satisfying.

“Feels good, Koo…”

“Sheesh,” he breathes, staring in astonishment at the pink gem in your ass, “it’s so fucking pretty. So sexy.” In his fucked out, head empty state, Jungkook bucks up, shoving all eight of his curved inches down your throat. He doesn’t realize what happened until you pull off with a gag and teary eyes.

“Bambi,” he coos wearily and fear ridden. “I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

You send him the meanest, fiercest glare you can conjure up, hoping his conscience burns just as much as your throat does.

“No, come on,” he pleads in despair, reaching for you as you crawl away, “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I wo-,”

You shut him up by hoisting a shaky leg over his hip, straddling him. “You really can’t control yourself, can you?” You hover over him with a teasing smile. How could you possibly stay mad at him when he looked like Tuxedo Mask? The dreamy love interest of your favorite cartoon.

He sighs in relief, panic leaving his body as fast as it came. “No, I can’t,” he smiles softly, shaking his head and snaking both arms around your waist, “not with you.”

And at that moment, you swear you’ve never been happier.

The closeness you felt was indescribable. Not physically, although his python grip was warm and comfortable. It was all emotional. You’re spiraling out of control, heading flipping and stomach somersaulting, but it’s okay—a contained type of chaos. Jungkook feels it too. The shift in the air. The subtle, yet painfully obvious, change in your dynamic. You’re different this time around. A little more outgoing. A little more fearless, as you sit on top of him. He loves it. He thinks he might even love…

“You gonna ride me, Bambi?”

“Mhm.” You feel like a schoolgirl again when you kiss him. That nervousness, wrapped in unbearable excitement, whenever you passed your first crush in the halls. Yeah, that's how you feel right now, looking down at the most stunning person you’ve ever experienced.

Sparks. Fireworks. Butterflies.

You and Jungkook exchange shy smiles when your hands touch, reaching for his erection, desperate to close the gap and become one. So ready to connect your bodies, minds, and hearts in the most intimate way. Clumsily, you fail at first. You’re both so wet that his flushed tip slips, completely missing your entrance and sliding past your clit.

“Sorry,” you chirp abashedly.

“That’s okay,” he pipes, holding himself up for you, “try again.” Just the thick head of his cock resting against your folds is enough to know that there’s going to be an adjustment period. A stretch. There always was, Jungkook is fucking huge. But you have a feeling that this new position would hit differently, making him feel bigger, harder, longer. With a firm grip on your hip, he guides you down onto his piercing length. A symphony of moans and sighs fills the room.

“How’s that?”

You’ve never felt so full.

The butt plug makes the squeeze even tighter, pushing his cock right into your g-spot. The burn ignited a mind-numbing fire inside of you. That, or he was just so deep that you felt him in your stomach. “‘S okay,” you whimper, gnawing on your lip and clinging onto him for stability, “really deep like this, Koo.”

“Take your time,” he gruffs, wincing under the dig of your petite fingers, making little crescent indents in his biceps. Amid sex, the tension in your body served as a reminder that you’re still learning. He was doing his best to be good, but the way your pussy just swallowed him up like that, triggered something primal. Tightest, wettest pussy he’s ever had the blessing of penetrating. Biting his tongue until his mouth tastes metallic, Jungkook battles the urge to thrust up into you until you’re dumb and drooling. He’s trying so hard to be good. The internal struggle is heard in his voice when he speaks, strained and gravely. “Start slow.”

Eventually, the tiny licks of pain transform into a milky, insatiable hunger. When you look down at him, all you see is the base of his thick neck, head thrown back as he succumbs to the gratification of your walls. ‘Wow, what a man,’ you think to yourself. Your man. Encouraged by your eagerness to please, you begin sloppily jerking your hips at a fast pace. No flow or rhythm.

“Easy, easy,” Jungkook shushes with a grin, stopping you at the waist. “Why are you in such a hurry, hm? We have all night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he laughs, grabbing the shaky hands that are resting awkwardly on your thighs. “Let’s get your form right first. Lean on me.” With the command, your palms are placed flat on his broad, solid pecs. Already, the angle and leverage work with his curve deliciously. “And it’ll probably feel better for you, if you moved like this instead,” Jungkook grips your ass, rocking you into a grinding motion. Instead of up and down, your cunt drags back and forth on his throbbing shaft.

He’s right. It feels so much better like this. The dreamy sensation has you moaning and moving like a pornstar.

To be honest, this wasn’t even the type of video Jungkook clicked on when looking through his PornHub feed in the mornings. Absently scrolling past orgies and blowjobs like the daily newspaper. He preferred things fast. Pummeling every inch into you before pulling out swiftly, leaving only the very tip inside to keep you needy and begging. But fuck, the slow, sensual rolls of your hips were turning his brain to mush. And the way you’re dripping down his balls might make him demote missionary to his second favorite position. He’s hypnotized, staring up at your perky tits, rippling and bouncing freely above him.

“Yeah, baby…” you cheer, carding your fingers through his thick, healthy hair as he sits up at the waist, latching onto your nipple. The gentle runs turn into harsh tugs when he takes the sensitive teat between his teeth. The overstimulation makes you hiss.

“Taste so good,” he huffs, “I can’t keep my mouth off of you.” Slicking his wispy bangs away, Jungkook leans back, stealing a naughty peek at you fucking yourself on him. Using him just how he likes. He spreads his legs apart, praying it’ll help you sink down even further, if possible. “Yeah, take it all…”

“Love taking it all…”

That hot, gooey ballooning is already forming in his balls. The pooling in his shaft is a warning; he’s going to bust soon. Jungkook maintains a strict ladies first policy, so he needs to think of something. Fast. A lightbulb switches on in his head when your neglected clit glides across his smooth pelvis.

“Hold on.” With a hand on your lower back, Jungkook squeezes you against him, preventing you from toppling over as he leans to the side and fiddles around in his special drawer. You gulp when he takes out the infamous vibrator.

“You look terrified,” he jokes, pointing out your fearful gaze and plump lips, currently forming a cute little ‘o’ as you observe the wand.

“Hm, I wonder why?” You scoff at him in fiend ignorance. “Oh, it’s superrr strong, most girls don’t even last five minutes,” you mimic in your best Jeon Jungkook impression. Voice dropping an octave to match his deep, even tone. You think it’s pretty accurate, but his melodic giggles say otherwise.

“I mean, it is,” he confirms, powering on the vibrator, “but there’s different settings, like, here’s the lowest.” The white crown is placed on your inner thigh, letting you get accustomed to the movement before he uses it to destroy you, and your most private areas. The low rumble travels up the muscle in your leg until it reaches your clit with a faint hum. “See? Not bad, right?”

Wrong.

The lack of foreplay on your end, had you teetering on the edge. So when Jungkook presses the strong, creamy buzz to your swollen bud, you’re a goner.

“Fuck!” You wail. “This is the lowest speed?”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“I- oh!” Evilly, Jungkook moves the toy down, nudging the rounded corner underneath your hood, directly stimulating your little bundle of nerves. “I… don’t know… can’t… think right now…”

“Have nothing to say now, huh smart girl?”

Oh, so this was your punishment.

If you could even call it that. You’ve never felt so fucking good.

The rapture coursing through your vein forces you to stop, clawing at Jungkook’s shoulders. He picks up where you left off, rutting into you with vigor, hitting all of your sweet spots perfectly. That, combined with the smooth plug in your ass and the vibrator on your clit, has you overwhelmed and out of control.

“Fuck! Jungkook, I can’t- too much.”

You’re cumming before he even has the chance to object. Thighs quivering. Arms shaking. Eyes rolling back into oblivion. The darkness is disrupted by lightning bolts of white, hot pleasure. Your entire body tingles like you’ve just stuck your acrylic into an outlet. Jungkook guides you to the light as you brace the crashing tsunami of your orgasm.

A literal tsunami.

“You squirted.”

“I did?”

“A little.” Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to witness it. Just relished in the warm splashes on his pelvis, his upper thighs, and his cock. You nuzzle into his shoulder, groaning disgruntledly in shame. Jungkook humors you by resting his cheek on top of your head, swaying subtly as he holds you. “Guess you’re not my Bambi anymore. Deer can’t swim.”

“They can swim,” you murmur. “You don’t shit about deer, Jungkook.”

“You’re more like a fish or something,” he coos happily, ignoring your correction. “...Ponyo.”

“You like Studio Ghibli movies?” You ask, picking up your heavy head and looking at him with big, animated eyes. “Since when?”

“Since before my balls dropped,” he responds curtly.

“I didn’t know that…”

“I think there’s a lot about me you don’t know yet, baby.”

There’s no malice in his words. They’re not a sneaky jab, or an attempt to make you feel guilty. They’re just the truth.

“Can I ask you something, Kook?”

“Of course, you can,” he hums, friskily nipping at the apple of your cheek.

‘Do you like anime in general? Or just Studio Ghibli?’

‘If so, what’s your favorite? Oh my God, this is so exciting!’

‘Is that your dog in those pictures?’

“You’re crazy, and yes, that’s my dog,” he chuckles at your endless string of curiosity. “But how about I nut first?” As if on cue, his member twitches inside of you, reminding you that he’s still hard and waiting patiently for his release. “And then you can interview me. Sounds good?”

“Yes,” you say, cheeks scalding. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” Jungkook repeats, pecking you lovingly. "I'm gonna lay you down now..." Strategically, he maneuvers you onto your side, plopping down behind you. You curl into his frame, back arching with the rise and fall of his panting chest, his beautifully sketched arm wrapped around your waist. The other rests on the bed, sticking straight out for you to use as a pillow. Your top leg is thrown over his hip, spreading you enough to run his length over your puffy cunt. Grabbing the Hitachi, he brings it back to your engorged clit. The touch makes you yelp.

“Mm, I love how sensitive you get,” he whispers, licking a hot, needy stripe against your cheek. You peep out a confused noise, cowering under his tongue. Yuck. He’s so gross… but so sexy. “It’s not even turned on yet, baby. What would happen if I put it all the way up?”

“I think I’d fall in love with you…”

His heavy breaths stop as locks eyes with you. You can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. It all blends together like the night sky, filled with little stars of raw emotion. He’s pondering something, dewy lips parting and closing as the thought fades.

Nothing is said, but you don't mind. Because when he enters you, rocking into you with languid, passionate thrusts, you feel it. The unspoken words surround you like the weather. They’re warm like a summer breeze.

“Mine, isn’t it?” He speaks against your lips, Hitachi set to the max, going full throttle on your nub. “Say it.”

“This pussy is yours,” you cry, crystal streams clouding your vision and streaming down towards his arm.

“Not that,” he chokes through gritted teeth, trying to postpone his orgasm. Waiting for you to say the magic words and open Pandora’s box. “You, baby. Tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips curling in as he bathes in your dripping cunt. His strokes become short and uneven as he reaches the point of no return. “I’m yours, too.”

The declaration of reciprocal affection and want fills your chest before shooting to your core. You cum together, sighing into each other's mouths as pure, intense bliss takes over every square inch of your body. Every cell tingles. You try to kiss, but the seal of your lips is broken by your needy cries. During the mutual orgasm, Jungkook trembles. Chest, legs, and arms all quivering in unison as he milks both of you dry. Painting your walls with warm, white spurts until he has nothing left to give. The Hitachi isn’t turned off until you beg.

Euphoria.

When you’re done, neither of you can bring yourself to disconnect. Sex left your sweaty bodies idle and fucked out, but the intimacy of it all kept you rooted in place. Airy kisses are planted on your shoulder. Light scratches outline his tattoos. His seed is hot inside you in the most disgustingly comfortable way. You don’t move for a while, laying in each other's aura until the rain clouds fade and the milky way can be seen by the naked eye. Twinkling lights of stars and headlights flicker against his skin as you count his breaths. They grow more steady as the minutes pass.

“I have a plan.”

Intrigued, you crane your neck, quirking a brow at the man behind you. “A plan?

Without warning, Jungkook expertly gets to his knees. Your ankles are hauled up by your head, manicured toes tickling his cotton pillowcase. Folded in half at the waist.

“Jungkook!”

“Bambi,” he huffs above you, softening cock still tucked inside of you. “Hold your legs for me.”

Oh. You know what he wants.

“Baby,” you giggle flirtatiously, hands curling under your thighs to keep them in place, “what are you doing?” He must want another round. Excitement bubbles in your squished chest and cramped stomach at the thought of having him twice in one night.

“If you stay like this, I should be able to run to the bathroom without getting cum on my bed.”

“Are you kidding me?” You spew in disbelief and disappointment.

“Baby, please,” he groans with pleading eyes. “It’ll take two seconds, I promise.”

“Fine,” you oblige with an overexaggerated pout, “but hurry. This hurts!”

With your permission, he scurries off into the bathroom. A light turns on and the faucet runs. He must be getting something to clean up with. Despite your best efforts, and the ache in your bent neck, his baby juice leaks out of you, cascading down your butt with impeccable speed.

“Jungkook, It’s dripping!”

The door slams against the wall with a loud thud as he bursts through, wet cloth in hand. A second too late. “No!” He sighs in annoyance, dropping to his knees on the mattress, angrily watching a fat white droplet splash onto his black comforter. “Really?”

“What was I supposed to do?” You shout back playfully. The whole situation was dumb and immature, but you can’t stop laughing. You cackle like a madwoman when he runs the damp towel through your folds. “‘M ticklish,” you respond dazily when he raises a brow at you. The giggles turn into a sharp hiss when he slowly removes the plug from your swollen hole.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook coos, spreading your cheeks to get a better view of the slightly red, inflamed area.

“A little, but I’m okay. I promise.”

“Good,” he hums, smacking your ass, hinting that he wants you off the bed. “Go pee while I change the sheets.”

There’s a change in your appearance when you look in his bathroom mirror. The girl reflected, wearing her boyfriend’s black, pine-scented, oversized hoodie, seems… happy. She is happy. The resting bitch face that Mina often teased you for is completely gone. All you see is glowy skin, bright eyes, and puffy cheeks. A tiny hand comes up to massage them. Ow. They hurt from smiling so much. From laughing like a maniac. You’ve never seen yourself so lively. You’ve never felt so alive.

With a content sigh, you skip back into the bedroom.

Jungkook is already settled, snuggled under the clean bedding like a big baby. The sound of the door opening makes him jump, waking up from the two minute nap he accidentally fell into. Turning to you, he smiles lazily.

You’ll never get used to that face of his. That beautiful face.

“I’m knocked, Bambi,” he yawns, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

Heart heavy with warmth, you climb between the sheets. You lay on your back, preparing for him to sink his head into your full breasts like feathered pillows. His favorite cuddle position.

“We never ate the pancakes,” you frown, noticing the plastic bags on his nightstand when you reach over, shutting his lamp off.

“‘S okay. We’ll eat ‘em in the morning.”

“Ew, Jungkook,” you scoff revoltingly. “They’ll be rotten by then.”

“You’re rotten but I still eat you.”

Hm. Touche.

“You know,” he lulls, lips smacking together. It’s a habit that only comes about when sleep clouds his mind. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met.”

“Liar,” you whisper with a smile, twirling the loose strands at the nape of his neck. Just the way he likes. “You called me a bitch, the day we met.”

“You’re so dramatic. I did not call you a bitch.” The way his tired, hooded eyes blare open at your false statement makes you laugh. “I said you were bitchy. There’s a difference.”

You recount the memory.

“You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?”

“But underneath that attitude… I don’t know- There was just… something about you. Something special. And I knew that I could bring that side out of you, eventually."

“Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you.”

God, why are you so emotional today?

Tears pile into your waterline. They’re not from sadness or anger.

Laying in bed with Jungkook, who’s sighing peacefully as he drifts off to sleep, you can’t believe that this is your life.

After a few minutes of silence, you realize that there’s no way you’re following him into dreamland. You’re way too wired and ecstatic. Who could blame you?

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

No answer.

“Jungkook.”

A grunt of acknowledgment.

“Are you awake?”

“No…”

“But you just responded, though...”

Silence.

“Can we watch Sailor Moon?”

Crickets.

"Jungkook?"

“Baby!” He whines, high-pitched and huffy as he turns his head in frustration. “‘M sleepin’!’”

“Jeez,” you roll your eyes, still sluggishly playing with his dark ropes. “Someone’s grumpy…”

There’s another beat of silence before he speaks.

“Fine,” he groans dramatically, twisting back to his original position with a smushed frown against your boob. “I’ll watch one episode. One.”

You squeak excitedly, pecking the top of his head in appreciation, pulling out your phone and turning on your favorite series with glee. He puts up a good fight; loopily murmuring ‘wow’ and ‘no way’ whenever you share a little fun fact about the character lore. Halfway through, the sound of Usagi and Rei arguing is overtaken by Jungkook’s soft snores.

Soft for now. You know once he hits the REM phase, he’ll turn into a lawnmower.

With a defeated sigh, you close the streaming app and put your phone away, cuddling closer to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

You're dying to finish the season. At this rate, it's going to take you guys forever to watch Sailor Moon in its entirety. But that’s okay, you suppose, because forever with Jungkook doesn’t sound that bad at all.

it's requited love yall :')

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