#and tea and water both being satisfying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 3 months

Text

Gīsītsos (little ghost)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Fingering, dubcon, smut. Word count: ~3.7k

Summary: As part of the Red Keep's serving staff, she knows it is better to remain unseen by the family she tends to. Unfortunately for her, an incident involving the second of the Targaryen sons means his gaze is now firmly fixed upon her.

Author's note: For @targaryen-dynasty's sleepover challenge. I was given the AU "meet cute" and the prompt "we have to be quiet". I have put my own little spin on both of these to suit my preference for canon and my particular writing style. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on notifications. Community labels are for cops.

There is an unspoken rule among the serving staff of the Red Keep; remain unseen and unheard whenever possible. Move as a spectre through the castle, do not draw attention to the mess you are employed to clean up. Those they serve do not wish to be reminded of their imperfections. Blissful ignorance is placed upon the pristine condition of the chambers they return to at the end of each day. They have always been that way, how could they not be? But beneath it lies an undercurrent of I do not wish to see it, do not make me look.

She is content to remain out of sight and mind of the Targaryen family, though her work is thankless, there is serenity to be found in the duties of a maidservant. As long as she completes the tasks assigned to her, then she is otherwise unbothered, and she considers herself fortunate to have a comparatively easy workload to some of the others.

The maidservants that attend to Prince Aegon’s bedchamber are ordered to work in pairs, partly because the mess he so often leaves behind is work enough for two, but also because he is known to sleep late, and there is safety in numbers. A chill runs down her spine at the memory of the whisperings that had passed between the staff about Dyana, brought before the Queen and forced to drink moon tea, before being relieved of her employment from the Keep. From that point on, the maidservants were forbidden from entering his rooms alone, lest they find themselves victim of the Prince’s wandering hands and lustful appetite.

There is no such danger to be found within the sleeping quarters of Prince Aemond, which she is in charge of tending to each day. He makes her job almost too easy, but she does not allow her guilt to weigh heavily enough upon her that she would ask for additional duties, instead she gives thanks to the Seven for this small mercy and ensures she finishes each day having completed her tasks to an impeccable standard.

As she tugs the crisp white sheets of the bed firmly back into place each morning, there is no lingering body heat or scent to be found, indicating he has been awake for hours. She wonders if he sleeps at all, considering the unrumpled state of his bedding. When she strips the sheets off to change them once a week, there are no personal effects that fall loose, no trace that the Prince she serves exists at all. He is as much an apparition as she is.

When she is finished making up the bed or delivering the old sheets to the laundress, she sweeps the ashes from the hearth and readies the fireplace for Aemond’s return. Aside from that, there is little else to do besides lightly dust the shelves and reorganise the books placed upon his table. She never once sees the Prince, nor does he see her.

The most strenuous of jobs is the one she currently finds herself doing; the once weekly wash of the bedchamber floor, which requires her to get down upon her hands and knees with a brush and scrub the flagstones with a mixture of hot water and lye. The floor is hard upon her knees, her back aching, and knuckles sore from the combination of the soap and how tightly she grips the brush.

Satisfied that there is not an inch left unclean, she drops the scrubbing brush into the bucket, groaning softly as her knees twinge in protest as she stands. She swipes at the perspiration upon her forehead with the back of her hand, before reaching behind her to soothe ache in her lower back.

She freezes as her elbow collides with something on the desk, her heart feeling as though it stops beating within her chest as she hears the heavy splash of it fall into the bucket behind her, splattering dirty water against her skirt.

Snapping herself out of her shock, she quickly turns, seeing she has knocked a book from the table into the water she had been using to wash the floor. Dread swirls in her belly as she stoops to lift it out, her mind running rampant with thoughts of how much trouble she’ll be in if she has ruined one of Prince Aemond’s belongings. At best, she would lose her job. At worst, she is unsure, but she does not wish to fall foul of the man that rides the world’s largest dragon.

Drying off the leatherbound cover with her apron, she is relieved to see her swift action has prevented any serious damage, though the pages within are sodden. She cannot return it to the desk in this condition, so she tucks the book under her arm and picks up the bucket, walking quickly out of the Prince’s chambers, and back towards the servants’ quarters. If she can get it dried and return it in time, then hopefully he will be none the wiser to her mishap.

The scullion keeps the fire in the shared space ablaze all day, and she settles in front of it, opening the dampened book, careful not to place it so close that the parchment might singe. Happy to see the water has not soaked through far enough to smudge the ink, she turns the pages carefully while they dry, her eyes scanning the words. It is a tome of philosophy, far beyond the realm of her comprehension. It serves as a reminder of the divide between her and the Prince, she is beneath such intellectual pursuits. She imagines he would be infuriated that a lowly maidservant would ever dare to read it, and finds herself hunching over the book as it dries, subconsciously concealing it from view, as though she is engaging in something forbidden and shameful.

After an hour, the heat of the fire has returned the book to its original state, or at least as close as it’s going to get. She makes haste to return it to where it belongs, hoping that Prince Aemond will not yet have returned to his chambers. Her skin is heated, a combination of having been so close to the open fireplace for an hour and nervousness at the idea of being caught.

She enters the bedchamber without knocking, expecting it to still be empty, and moves swiftly on light feet, returning the book back to the desk it had laid upon previously.

“An enjoyable read, was it?”

The voice is soft, yet its sinister edge sends a shiver up her spine, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She turns slowly, keeping her head bowed, not daring to meet the unblinking stare of the One Eyed Prince.

“Your Grace,” she utters meekly, “please accept my apologies. I did not mean to intrude.”

“And you did not answer my question either.”

She dares to look up then, watching in wide eyed horror as he walks slowly towards her, dressed in his sparring attire, his expression impassive.

Swallowing thickly, ignoring everything within her that desperately wants to lower her gaze, she forces herself to hold it. “I did not read it, I swear, I would never be so discourteous.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, standing tall in front of her, “a pity. ‘Tis an interesting text. So, tell me, what were you doing with it?”

He is standing so close to her, she can feel the tickle of his breath upon her flesh, see the angry, red indentation of the scar that runs the length of the left hand side of his face, disappearing beneath the leather patch that covers his eye. There is something in the way he looks at her that makes her want to shrink into herself, but she fears she has forever shrugged off the shroud of invisibility that has until now protected her. His eye is piercing, a silent threat. I see you.

She considers lying, but decides it will be worse for her than simply telling the truth, if he catches her out. “I…I accidentally got the book wet while I was cleaning. I took it away to the servants’ quarters to dry it.”

Aemond leans his body into hers, and she can feel the warmth that radiates from his chest, smell the sweat that lingers on his skin from his exertion in the training yard. She screws her eyes shut, icy fingers of fear gripping her insides as she awaits her punishment, but then the heat of him is gone.

Slowly opening her eyes, she sees that he is still standing in front of her, but his attention is now focused upon his book as he flips through the pages, studying it for signs of damage. He had simply reached behind her to retrieve it. The relief that floods her is enough to make her want to laugh, but she knows better, biting it back as she exhales heavily through her nose.

Satisfied that his book is unruined, he snaps it shut, holding it with both hands as he looks at her once more. “Are you always this clumsy?”

She gapes at this, white hot embarrassment radiating from head to toe. “N-no, never. It was an accident, Your Grace, I swear it.”

He smirks, cocking his head. “Perhaps I ought to keep a closer eye on you?”

Please, no.

She wants to leave, to be away from the intensity of how he looks upon her, to have him forget her face and allow her to go back to being invisible.

“I promise I will take greater care in future, Your Grace. I apologise. Can I go?”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “I do not know. Can you?”

This is humiliating. Is he getting some sort of satisfaction from this?

“If that will be all, Your Grace.”

She bows her head to him and hurries from the room, feeling her heartbeat in her throat with every step that she takes. She can sense his eye upon her, boring a hole into the back of her, long after she has left his chambers, and it fills her with a sense of unease for the rest of the day. Her only solace is that she can return to her duties upon the morrow without having to see him.

However, as she enters the bedchamber the following morning she is horrified to find the Seven have decided her spell of good fortune has come to its end. Prince Aemond still occupies the space, standing at the foot of the bed as he fastens his tunic. Halting her steps, she lingers uncertainly, not knowing what she ought to do.

He stares at her as he continues to dress, not making any moves to alleviate her discomfort, and she takes a tentative step back.

“Should I come back?” She asks warily, glancing over her shoulder towards the door - it has never appeared so inviting.

“No need,” he assures her, “do what you need to.”

She hesitates a moment longer, but realising she is in no position to protest, she begins the task of turning down the bed. She can feel him looking at her the entire time, making her feel self conscious. There has never been an audience to spectate over her daily tasks before, and she moves as though she is suspended in honey, afraid to make a mistake while he is watching, despite the fact that these are duties she has performed hundreds of times before.

To her frustration, he moves as slowly as she does, unhurriedly clasping on his sword belt and pulling on his boots, watching her all the while, but never speaking a word. It is not until she begins sweeping away the ashes from the fireplace that he finally takes his leave, silently striding from the room without addressing her further.

For the first time since she entered Aemond’s chambers that morning she feels as though she can breathe, although a voice in the back of her mind tells her she has not seen the last of Aemond, and he certainly has no desire to see less of her.

Over the next few days, he is there every time she arrives, either in the process of dressing, or still laying in bed, causing her to turn away, ashamed at the way excitement flutters in her lower belly at the sight of his well defined bare chest.

He is doing this on purpose, she knows he is, abusing the imbalance of power between them, because she cannot ask him to stop. He is not really even doing anything wrong; it is not uncommon for maidservants to be in the presence of those they serve as they perform their duties, yet there is something about this that feels completely improper. The way his stare lingers upon her, stalking her as though she is prey, it both frightens her and fills her with a sense of mortification, because she knows that, deep down, there is a part of her that likes the fact that his attention is on her. The veil between them has been lifted, and now that she has gotten to know what resides on the other side, at least a little, she thinks of nothing else. It is both exciting and terrifying to have someone in such a position of authority so interested in her and what she does.

It is the day she strips the bed in order to place fresh sheets upon it, and she enters the bedchamber prepared to have to wait for the Prince to vacate it first. However, she finds that he is already gone for the day. Unsure if it is relief or disappointment that she feels, she immediately begins to pull back the bedding, deciding she would prefer not to dwell on the hollow feeling that has settled within her chest.

As she tugs the bedsheet loose from beneath the corner of the mattress, a small piece of parchment flutters from it, landing softly on the flagstones beside the wooden bedframe. Nothing has ever fallen from Aemond’s bed before, he is much too tidy, and so her curiosity is immediately piqued.

Plucking it from the floor, her mouth runs dry at the words she finds penned delicately in black ink.

Though I am absent, I think of you.

Was this meant for her to find? She feels foolish for considering such a notion, and yet she cannot shift the idea that it might be. Her hands shake as she holds the note, her mind reeling with thoughts of what she ought to do with it: keep it, cast it into the fireplace, put it back and pretend she has not seen it?

The latter is impossible, he would notice the fresh sheets upon the bed and know that she has found it. Perhaps she is being presumptuous, and this has been left for him by a bedmate? She decides to simply place it upon the desk, and leave it up to the Prince to decide its fate.

Though she attempts to continue her day as normal, thoughts of Aemond and the contents of his note will not allow her any peace. She wonders if it is indeed her that he is thinking of, and if it would satisfy him to know that he haunts her mind in equal measure. If only she had never knocked that wretched book into the bucket, then she would be free of this torment.

Aemond is fully clothed as she walks into his rooms the following day, standing beside his desk. There is absolutely no reason for him to linger, but she knows precisely why he does, her suspicions confirmed when she spies the note clasped between his fingers.

“You read it?” He asks, lifting his gaze to meet hers as she enters.

“Was I not supposed to?” She asks quietly, setting down the basket which contains the brushes and rags she uses for sweeping and dusting.

“I left it where only you would find it,” he retorts, allowing the parchment to flutter back down upon the desk. “What do you think?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” she responds simply, attempting to keep her focus on meticulously unloading her supplies.

“Leave that,” he orders coolly. “Come here.”

She trembles as she steps slowly towards him, and he rounds on her, caging her between himself and the desk, its wooden edge biting into her lower back.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

The trace of his fingertip leaves a trail of heat in its wake. She feels dizzy, overwhelmed, the urge to run and her body’s insistence at remaining rooted to the spot at direct odds with one another.

“Please,” she whispers, “do not. It is improper.”

His hand drops to his side and he regards her with a look of amusement. “I am not my brother. I will not take anything that is not given freely. But I suspect you want this as much as I do. Tell me I am wrong.”

“Your Grace, I–I…”

The words die in her throat, what can she say? A maidservant cannot speak of her desire for the Prince she serves. How can she give voice to the fact that since he first acknowledged her, he has plagued her every waking thought?

“Say the word, and things shall go back to as they were before, we shall be strangers once more.”

That is certainly the easier of the two options, and yet the idea of having to live without his attention now she knows the sweet torment of what it is to have it seems unfathomable to her. She is playing a dangerous game, treading a knife’s edge, placing herself directly in harm’s way, and the words she speaks next will forever change her life’s trajectory, but as she stares up into his piercing blue eye her judgement is too clouded for her to mind.

“I do not want that,” she says earnestly.

“I want you to beg for it,” he tells her, the slightest hint of malice in his tone.

She feels a stickiness between her thighs, a dull throbbing ache in her core that makes her nerves sing for release. Her voice is foreign to her, pathetic sounding as the single utterance of “please” tumbles from her lips.

“Please what?” Aemond asks, tilting his head, mocking her as he looms over her, keeping her pinned against the desk behind her.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would feel ashamed by such lewd behaviour, but these are no ordinary circumstances, and her actions are driven solely by desire, so she feels no chagrin as she allows herself to murmur “please touch me”.

The Prince’s deft fingers make quick work of moving up her skirt, ghosting along the inside of her thigh as he goes, causing her to suck in a shaky breath as she grips his shoulders for support.

She mewls helplessly as his middle and index fingers work their way beneath her smallclothes, dragging through her silken folds, wet with arousal.

Aemond hums in appreciation as his digits explore her, his entire hand moving beneath the thin cotton of her undergarments, cupping her mound. She exhales a shocked gasp as he pushes two fingers forcefully inside of her.

His free hand clasps over her mouth, muffling her sounds, as he works his fingertips inside of her at a lazy pace. “We have to be quiet,” he tells her, “or we will get caught, and we cannot have that.”

She nods in understanding, whimpering against his palm as his thumb begins to circle her pearl, the pumping of his fingers increasing in pace, the sticky sounds of her arousal accompanying her stifled whines of pleasure.

They have not even shared a kiss, there is no romance to be found here, but she does not mind. If anything, the depravity of the act serves to heighten the sensations and renders her more responsive to his touch.

His eye bores into hers, the pupil so large it almost eclipses the blue of it, his lips parted slightly as his nostrils flare. He crooks his fingers, brushing against a spot inside of her that causes her to buck against his hand. He grins wickedly, speeding up his movements both inside of her and against her bud.

The pleasurable ache she feels building winds tightly within her gut, and her thighs tremble with the effort of keeping her upright. Her fingernails dig into the fabric of Aemond’s tunic, as she feels her body tense in preparation for what’s to come.

With a final press of his fingers, she falls apart, her cry almost silenced by his hand over her mouth as she breathes erratically through her nose. She tightens around him in quick pulses as waves of warm relief pass through her body, making her pliant against him.

She maintains her grasp on his shoulders, not trusting her shaking legs to keep her upright as he releases her mouth and withdraws his hand from beneath her skirt, his fingers glistening with her release.

He tuts, examining them carefully as he holds them up between them both. “What a mess you’ve made”, he says condescendingly, pressing them against her lips and forcing them into her mouth. The taste of herself upon her tongue is tart, the very idea of what she is doing lewd to her. “Something else for you to clean up,” he coos, watching as she sucks her essence from his fingers.

With these words she is brought crashing back down to earth as she is reminded of the power imbalance between them. She will always be the woman who tends to his messes, who serves him, except now she is also a vessel for his pleasure and, whatever the outcome of that may be, it is too late now to take it back. He has seen her, fully, and she will only ever see of him what he allows her to.

609 notes · View notes

catcze · 6 months

Note

I know you probably meant Reader being in denial for the "Won't Say I'm In Love" thing... but imagine if you will. Neuvillette or Wriothesley trying so damn hard to deny their feelings, but literally everyone around them keeps pointing out how obvious it is (Furina is teasing Neuvillette and Sigewinne is trying to encourage Wriothesley)

!!! OH THAT IS CUTE CUTEEE

Oh I can just see how Furina would go out of her way to hold tea parties every.single.afternoon, and how she would always make it a point to invite you and Neuvillette.

Given that Neuvi isn't, like, the most chatty guy, Furina would hard carry when it comes to making him participate in the conversation. Especially since he's in denial / is unaware of the depth of his feelings to you, I feel like he'd be more shy, too. Hence where Furina comes in !! The two of you are the ones who mostly converse, with Neuvillette listening as he sips his water, with Furina pulling him into the conversation every now and then.

And oh if the hydro archon just conveniently happens to forget that she had somewhere to go this afternoon, then she's terribly sorry. Oh, but there's still so much tea and cake left, though! It would be such a terrible shame if all this were to go to waste just because of her hasty departure. No! She won't allow such a waste of perfectly good desserts. Please, sit back down and spend as much time as you'd like. She's sure that Neuvillette would be more than happy to keep you company :)

And as for Wriothesley— he's just being hard-headed, if you ask Sigewinne. She's been privy to the duke's feelings for you for quite some time now, and has been telling him to just go and shoot his shot already. But time and time again, no matter how much she assures him, he insists that it is unprofessional.

You work for the palais mermonia and come down here nearly every other day! How awkward would it be to see you if you were to reject him? Sigewinne always rolls her eyes and has to bite her tongue from saying that it is blatantly obvious (to her, at least) that you would never in a million years be bothered by his advances. She's so tired of this back-and-forth pining that she meddles— just a teensy bit.

She asks the duke one day if his feelings for you are genuine— if he really, really, likes you, and his answer is genuine. Sigewinne nods, satisfied, walks out of his office, and he doesn't think much of it. Not until that afternoon, at least, when he walks back into his office from dealing with a skirmish, and finds both you and his head nurse seated on his couches, drinking some tea. "Hi!" you greet him when he pauses in shock at the top of the stairs. "I was told there's something important I should know?" You smile, oblivious to the sudden flipping of his stomach. Sigewinne smiles from the couch, taking a sip of her tea.

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 strawberry.cupcakes #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 strawberry.milk #wriothesley x reader #Neuvillette x reader #cw gn reader

592 notes · View notes

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 :')

4K notes · View notes

genshin-scenarios · 10 months

Text

a familiar pull - fontaine

Summary: General scenarios with Fontaine characters, very loosely based on the trailers!

Characters: Lyney, Navia, Neuvillette, Furina

Lyney

A long time ago, on streets you no longer bear memory of, you met a magician who not only stole your heart, but planted flowers in place of them.

That is to say; during a rather heavy period in your life, you encountered someone who offered you the comfort of a quiet smile and courteous sleight of hand (to turn 1 coin into 2, then 3, then just enough to treat a lost soul to a drink in the evening, if you cared to join him. And with a demeanor as charming as that, how could you turn him away?)

You asked Lyney what other tricks he knew, to which he simply pointed to the sky and said that if you smiled at the same time the constellations twinkled, your heart would feel lighter.

“And if I become so light as to float toward the stars?”

“Well… I’d have to make my own stars, then. Perhaps even ones you can catch yourself, if you’d like to join me onstage.”

Navia

To catch a stray umbrella that’s escaped its owner is not part of your regular afternoon, however a part of you welcomes the incident due to how it acquainted you with Navia, who was quick to thank you for the trouble and invite you out as an apology.

If Fontaine’s lifestyle weighed on the beauty of a show, you could say that Navia shined so brightly on her own that there was no need to put on additional fronts to satisfy this. From her lively actions to the honest furrow in her brow, you might compare her to sunlight - paving a way for clarity and cheer, with warmth in her voice as she spoke your name.

“Say, if you managed to catch my umbrella so easily, could it be that you…”

“I don’t have a habit of climbing buildings, unfortunately.”

“Aww, I was just going to ask you to spot for me next time!”

Neuvillette

Between the administrative work he has and the performances he oversees at court, it’s safe to say that Neuvillette is just relieved to have a bit of simplicity when it comes to you in his everyday life.

There’s no question about the bias he has for you. His affection isn’t falsely given either - how can it be, when Neuvillette returns to see you’ve fallen asleep at the guest seat in his office, waiting for him to head home together after a long day?

When the theatrics of the court finally settle into calm waters, Neuvillette just hopes it means a more regular life for the both of you. Ignoring the times you tease him for being sappy, you’ve always looked at him with a gentleness that hopes he can get more rest. He doesn’t know how to tell you that his ideal scenario includes you as well, having a moment to wind down together with tea and your favorite snacks.

Furina

Needless to say, you were a little more than stressed when Furina announced that she’d like you as her aide.

You were less boring than other people, and fun to drag around and talk to. A part of her was simply flamboyant in nature, but Furina also grew a habit of glancing at your reactions to see if she’s impressed you sometimes.

After a while, you come to realize that there was something lonely about the archon - it’s in the moments where instead of talking your ear off or asking you to join her for another show, she grows silent and simply watches the city around her, like rain on a windowpane, drumming her fingers lightly against her crossed arm.

And just as quickly as the moment settles, it’s gone; replaced by Furina pulling you away by the elbow, impatient for your attention as she pursues the next idea that’s entered her mind.

Maybe, in the same way there are reflective pairs in how hydro works, the both of you find a sense of comfort in your similarities that do not show on the surface, until a ripple disturbs it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fontaine #genshin impact furina #genshin focalors #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #furina x reader #genshin navia x reader #genshin impact lyney #lyney x reader #genshin writing #genshin reader insert #traveler wishes

1K notes · View notes

zoropookie · 1 month

Text

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-three — friends? (💋)

"Hey, if any reason we don't make it out without anyone seeing us, I just want to say that," You paused to look at him while you two were walking. "I think I’d rather be in a dating scandal with an insulin pen than you."

The corners of his lips twitched. "Wow." He said sarcastically, attention mainly on where he was going. "I never knew you were capable of thinking."

"My brain power’s not for free, just so you know," You immediately responded. "I changed my mind what I said earlier. I want at least three Twitter apologies and a lifetime supply of Jason Derulo concert tickets."

Scaramouche's eyebrows furrowed, giving you the nastiest side-eye that you could have ever imagined from him. "I'd rather take my chances with the scandal, thanks.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. You couldn't help but look at him a lot more than usual today. The allure that rang true put him in a different light, despite the light not being your cup of tea whenever he opens his mouth.

It was almost like the gravity of the situation didn't matter anymore. Still, you remained high and mighty. "I guess I'd want to be around me too."

"You're very sure of yourself for someone who's annoying every other day of the week."

"I’ll take it. It's why I exposed you so bad, and you flailed." You smiled, which caused Scaramouche to grunt in frustration. "You got burned, and you knew it too. Despite all odds, I kind of won."

"You did? Is that why you went AWOL for two weeks when I responded?" There was a split moment of silence between them as they stood there, and Scaramouche chuckled. The sound was low and throaty in the dimly lit alleyway. "All the considering, and this is very painful to say, but you were better with words than I was."

"Is that... another COMPLIMENT I HEAR COMING FROM YOUR-? I forgot it’s three in the morning." You sighed, shoulders dropping. "I'm satisfied with being the cunning wordsmith."

“You’re also just pretty fucking unfortunate to be around, but we can stroke your ego.”

“I love that you’re taking the diplomatic approach here.” You teased, feeling your heart warm up from his staring. Both of you looked at each other, uncertain to say anything, but hesitant to break the eye contact.

“Hey— uh.” You continued, stammering on your words. “If this all blows over? You wanna…go out?”

The amount of silence that was between them should have been enough of an indication to you, but you definitely knew it was solidified once he looked at you with a blank stare. “No.”

“Yeah, no. I started feeling like I was going to vomit when I said that anyway.” You quickly recovered, turning your body away to bite at your hand. Your eyes squeezed tight in embarrassment, hoping that you melt by some galactic beam in the next two seconds.

Amongst their chatter, and the alleyway that hid both of your figures, a distant rumble slowly became louder as the sound echoed off the walls. A pair of headlights pierced the darkness, and the beams of them against the worn down pavement on the curb assured them that it was definitely the group.

"Come on, come on!" Hu Tao shouted from the window, making you and Scaramouche cringe. She clearly found joy from this, because for some reason, the smile plastered on her face spoke volumes.

You both shared a fleeting glance, a silent exchange of words before entering the car.

"Well, well, well. If I would have known that Scaramouche himself would be in my car, I would have put 3/4th's water in my gas tank." Heizou raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with amusement and mirth.

"Oh, be nice." You pursed your lips, squinting. "Like you made an effort to help me out in the past. Now you're on your high horse?"

"Um, that's alleged."

"Really? Is it? How's that case against (Y/N)'s hater going, Officer Shikanoin? Found any way to protect them?" Lumine spoke up, her arms crossed stubbornly. "Well?"

"Listen! I was given a very narrow band of things that I can do with that! Aaaand, my hands were tied with a lot of other things." Heizou defended.

"Yeah, I'm sure your hands were tied with all the Cheetos you were picking up, the ones you spilled in some sawdust." Yanfei chimed in with a wry grin. "But I suppose I can't blame you for your...preferences."

"You knew that was an accident."

"Oh Heizou, I never saw it as an accident."

The two of them were arguing so much with input from the others in the car, that you and Scaramouche could only look at each other again and back at the scene. This was the only way the two of you were getting home safe from social media.

"You wasted 2 hours picking up every single one-"

"I don't see how this is relevant to where we're going right now!" Heizou immediately interrupted her before she could finish. "Directions, anyone? Before I hit a dead end?"

Yanfei immediately started tapping on her phone screen, pulling up the GPS navigation app she used. "So you turn left, but the rest of it is all you." She said, shoving her phone towards Heizou who snatched it out of her hand.

"Where are we going anyway?" Hu Tao asked, too enamored in Yanfei to say anything substantial until now.

"Ei has a vacation lodge, it's pretty cool, and it has way too many guest rooms. We're going there, I assume you have a key to it, Scaramouche?"

Scaramouche couldn't even respond properly, only offering a yard long stare. "How do you know she has a vacation lodge?"

"Did you forget that you're an influencer?" Another mysterious voice, almost similar to a child’s, appeared suddenly.

Nahida’s head popped up from the back seat, next to Lumine. It was less surprising knowing that all of them were clashing groups, anyway. But Aether’s eyes narrowed to the front seat.

“Officer Shikanoin…” Aether said in almost a disgusted tone. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“It’s definitely NOT what you’re thinking right now—” Heizou took his hands off the wheel, causing the car to swerve for a split second. “DEAL WITH IT, okay. I’ll explain when we get there.”

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @melpomenelurks (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

#zoropookie #hhab #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you

126 notes · View notes

billiedeansbitch · 1 year

Text

𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Summary: Larissa was stressed and just wanted a good fuck.

a/n: this fic contains some mothering bits (mentions of breastfeeding) and lots of smut. also thanks to my girlfriend for beta reading this <3

warning/s: NSFW

The whole kitchen smelled like coffee–dark, steaming, black coffee, some scent of cinnamon rolls, and of course, Larissa’s favourite tea. You were having breakfast by the counter, still in your fluffy robe, hair was damp and dripping down your neck. You didn’t care as you took a sip of your coffee, then another, eyes fixated on the newspaper on the counter.

Larissa stepped in, already dressed, her make-up wasn't done but her hair was in its typical updo, so immaculate and perfect. She greeted you with a kiss on your clothed shoulder, hands clinging around your waist to pull you flushed against her front. She could smell the body wash on your skin, richly sweet and fragrant, it made her want to lick and savour your skin. A surprised squeak pushed past your lips before chuckling at your wife’s antics.

“Mmm, good morning.” she smelled the coffee from your breath, so she leaned reaching for your lips. Once satisfied after pecking your lips, she bidded you a good morning.

And you could tell it was indeed a good one as her hand snuck in the little opening of your robe and fondled your breast, then flicking the firm bud while the other was wandering over the smooth material until it found its way inside and cupped your cunt, her breath heavy on your neck. The tip of her middle finger was right in between the lips, prodding the warm, wet spot. Now aching.

All the previous thoughts you had vanished, the pressure of the heel of her palm on your clit was dizzying, you had to press both hands on the counter to steady yourself. “Larissa.” A shaky breath. It should have been a warning but it came out as a plea when the finger that was toying with your slit thrusted in, your body jolting. It went in smooth and easy and fuck your eyes rolled to the back of your head. She started pumping her finger. It didn’t start out slow.

Her mouth was warm, too, and wet as they enthusiastically devoured your neck, her intrusive thoughts winning over when she bit and sucked harder enough to leave a bruise which meant you had to wear your hair down today, maybe do some colour correcting and concealer for extra caution. But it had been days, maybe a week without being all over each other and rutting on each other’s fingers and face, you could understand her need and feel her ache.

“We should have showered together,” her voice was rough, expressing her regret. She should have had you against the wall, her face on your cunt as the warm water dripped down your bodies.

“We still have time.” came your response, your hips moving suggestively into her hand eager to feel the pleasure brought by her fingers. “Fuck me.”.

“Am I not fucking you already?” She curled her fingers inside of you to prove a point. She squeezed your breast and toyed with your nipple some more before it switched to the other. Her mouth was clamped down in between the space of your neck and shoulder, sucking another bruise. You let her.

However, in the midst of exchanging knowing glances and wicked smiles, the sound of little feet running bare across the hall connecting to the kitchen prompted the both of you to separate right away.

Larissa busied herself in the sink, washing any trace of you on her fingers before she wiped them off with a kitchen towel and kneel to greet your daughter. “Good morning, you little bugger.”

–

Larissa groaned, unable to keep focus on her work anymore. The more she forced herself to get things done the more her mind refused to function. She stood up, closed her laptop. As much as work that was needed to be done, the Principal was unlikely to focus with the heat continuing to burn and ache in between her legs, powerfully distracting her.

Of course, she wasn’t an idiot, she had thought about relieving herself like many times before while fantasising her toys were a part of you. While the deception worked before–very well for the matter, it failed to do the same thing now. She had a bottle of wine already opened, a glass waiting to be filled, but halfway into pouring the liquid and unbuttoning her dress, to get her nipples hardened, Larissa stopped. She went out for some fresh air.

In the hallway, Larissa felt the urge to pin you right on the spot when she caught a glimpse of you walking toward her direction but your eyes were too focused on your phone to notice her. She took a quick scan, no one was around. With her heart thumping fast, Larissa’s pace increased, she took you by the arm and pressed herself on you, lips coming to your ear. You were trapped in between her body and the wall.

The wall was cold against your back. She had her arm resting firm on the side of your face while the other smothered the sound of your gasp by cupping your lips, pinky on your upper lip as the thumb caressed the underside of your chin.

Your wife’s tongue licked the shell of your ear, despite your years of practice to restrain these noises in public, a moan still clawed its way out.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She purred back, hands roaming your sides. She felt hot against you. And God, the emptiness when your cunt clenched to nothing felt devastating.

Quickly, you were ushered to the nearest room possible, “Here” she shut the door with urgency, her lips barely leaving your own.

“We’re in a classroom.” It was empty, yes, but it bothered you a bit.

“It doesn’t matter.” The sound of your zipper going down drew the cheekiest smile on your lips. Your trousers fell. Larissa smiled even bolder. Her hand slipped in.

“On the desk.”

Larissa thumbed you open, her tongue darting out to taste the slickness of your cunt. Fuck, that felt good. Your face twisted in pleasure, mouth gaping, and eyes rolling to the back of your head once more. She hummed, appreciating how wet you already were. You must have been thinking about her, too. The wetness was proof.

Finally, she thought, as her tongue deepened into your slit. In and out it went. Then lapping with gusto. Her nose coming to nuzzle the little aching bud of your clit. But the world stopped for her when you pulled away, putting a hand on her shoulder. Your phone was ringing. She wanted to grab it and smash it on the wall and continue licking you but she didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” You mouthed, thumbing her chin to wipe away the juices that coated her. “I’ve to answer this.”

She moved to give way, you stood from the desk, kissed her on the forehead, “Hello, yes, this is she…” you kept talking, pacing in the room half naked before you decided to collect your discarded items.

Then it ended. Larissa patiently waited for you to get on the desk, eager to finish what she started. “Where’s my underwear?” You were only able to get your hands on your trousers.

“I’ve no idea, darling. Now, come here and let me finish. I swear to help look for it later.” she grabbed you by the hips, eager hands palming all the way up under your blouse. You shook your head.

“Baby, I have a meeting. Mr and Mrs Fritz are already waiting for me in my office, I’ve to get there immediately. I’m sorry.”

Your cunt was still damp, rubbing on the seams of your trousers when you sat in your office chair, grimacing at how uncomfortable it felt and wished to heavens that you could have at least finished before receiving the call.

It was a little later in the afternoon when Larissa eventually gave up and hiked her dress up. She was sitting on her chair fingering herself while clutching your stained underwear. Some of you was still in her tongue, your smell lingering in her nose—a cruel reminder of how she had you for only the littlest time today. Then a knock broke the sloppy caress of her fingers.

The woman gritted her teeth. She intended it to be fast, just for the sake of getting off, but how could she come when five minutes into it someone was already frantically knocking on her door?

This put the notion of having a custom made “Do not disturb” sign in her head because it appeared that having her doors locked wasn’t enough to keep people away. And the only thing stopping her now was her position as Principal. She was the Principal. She couldn’t exactly have that thing hanging on her door knob for a plethora of reasons.

The door revealed it was a delivery, “For Larissa Weems?” an assortment of lilies with blue roses. She took it from the delivery guy, her forehead creasing from frowning. She read the card.

The familiar car halted in the driveway with a screech, not only did it startle you, but it also made your cunt throb from the anticipation. Larissa had made it home by six, it was the earliest she could do. When she read the card earlier, the frown was replaced by a warm, soft smile.

It took only quite a few impressive strides before the woman was flinging her arms around your waist. Being at the receiving end of this smoldering, hot look, coiled with her never ending affection and hunger for you, made you want to strip right there in the living room, but one accident for this week was enough although a kiss wouldn’t hurt anyone…

With both hands cupping her face, you kissed her, just kiss her with your lips resting on top of hers, unmoving. It was innocent, and adoring. Larissa pulled away, catching her breath.

“Where’s our daughter?”

“Asleep.” You took her coat off and gathered the handbag she dropped by the door, “Papa built her a swing in their backyard and when I came to fetch her she was already dozing off.”

“Go say good night.” Larissa pressed a firm kiss on your lips before she went to your daughter’s room, trying to be as light footed as possible not to wake the two and a hlaf year old troublemaker.

In the bedroom, Larissa Weems was half naked, flushed on the bed with you on top of her. Her dress was open, her pink nipples were sodden, and puffy from being brutally sucked and licked. The plumpness since bearing your daughter didn’t go away as she expected, and fuck, you always lose your shit when you see them or just even feel them against her pajama shirts.

Larissa whimpered, her hand cradling the back of your head as she rubbed her centre against your knee while you continuously licked the pulsing nipple. Your teeth grazing the sensitive bud drawing out a sharp breath. She shuddered. You stopped, diverting your eyes back up to look at her. She was already looking with her half lidded eyes. Larissa watched how you purposely drew your tongue out to lick each nipples. The eye contact didn’t falter.

The feeling of your mouth on her had her own pussy throbbing, the friction she was making against your knee was not enough.

When you reached a hand out, your mouth was still latching around a nipple, to the bedside table and pulled the knob to the first drawer and quickly grabbed the purple strap and lube, Larissa froze. Her cheeks warmed to the sight of the silicone strap.

You felt a hand circling your wrist, her expression became soft and bashful, “Can you—“ she paused, cheeks reddening. You raised a brow. “Can you use it on me…tonight?” her voice sounded small, shy, like you hadn’t had your mouth on her tits.

She was expecting it was her who was going to use that thing on you, but oh, you had other plans than riding it for yourself. You kissed the underside of her boob before you shifted. Lips lingering on her throat. “You didn’t have to ask.” you bit the flesh of her neck before you withdrew yourself on top of her and put the strap on, still half naked as well.

With her now on top, still clad in her dress with the buttons on the front undone exposing her pert breasts, the skirt bunching up around her waist, you snapped the dainty, black underwear. Now her cunt lay bare for your eyes, slick and glistening, so pretty too. She moaned your name, bucking her hips, the tip of the cock nudging her clit.

She bit her lip. Her eyes were begging. “Please, please, please. Fuck me.” It was a desperate plea. If you had a real cock attached to you, you would have felt it ache, felt it hardened and stir for her cunt and fuck, you would have loved her lips around it, bobbing her head up and down as she took the whole length of you down her throat like the slut she was.

“I need you.” she said, desperately that made it even so entertaining for you.

You propped yourself up with your elbow, your middle and ring finger going in your mouth to saturate the digits before they made contact with her slit. She moaned. You kept stroking it slowly, feeling more juices than expected then circling the swollen clit. “This is all for me?” She nodded vigorously.

Her muscles tensed when you pressed harder on her clit. “More,” she moaned. You looked at her, and found her with her head thrown back in pleasure. Her nipples were hard, she was sweaty and flushed. “More, baby, please. I need more.” What would you give to impregnate this woman with your own cock.

You grabbed her by the thigh, kneading the firm muscles. She bucked her hips. More. She wanted more. Your fingers went straight up her hole. Her cunt was easy to adjust, clenching around you as her hips started to move.

Larissa, being on top like this, already on the verge of tears, begging you with her tits exposed from her blouse and cunt dripping down was exactly how you needed her to be.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous, Larissa.” Both of you and your wife were staring, just lovingly, and intimately gazing at each other, sweat and blush covering you both from chest up to your faces.

As you were about to reach for her hand, hoping you could kiss her knuckles before pounding her cunt raw was interrupted with the creaking of the door open, your daughter, who similar features as your wife, stood in the doorway dressed in her onesie, one hand clutching a plushie dinosour’s foot and the other was rubbing her eye.

Looking from the foot of the bed, you saw the breathtaking innocence in your daughter’s big blue eyes. Just like her mother’s, you thought. She was looking at you and Larissa back and forth. She was sleepy, confused, and just happy to be in her mothers presence after being with her grandparents all day long.

Finally decent, well thank the Gods you didn’t both strip all the way and saved your daughter from the horror and trauma of what it possibly could have been if you did. “Hi there little miss.”

She beamed, finally getting acknowledged by her mama. You rose from the bed, “I’ll handle this. Stay in bed.” Larissa nodded, her lip worrying in between her teeth.

“Mommy! Love you!” Brielle exclaimed seeing Larissa looking at her. She then stretched her small arms up and made a grabby motion with her hands, signalling to be picked up by her mother.

You took her but she was still looking at Larissa, pouting her cute lips and just begging to be handed to the blonde. “Did she just ignore me?” you asked your wife, giving her an incredulous look and then to Brielle who just wanted the blonde so badly. Larissa only laughed.

Little Brielle crawled all the way to Larissa and settled herself on her mother's lap, her head falling on the blonde’s chest, whose dress was now buttoned. “Mommy,” she patted Larissa’s breast.

“Oh,” you knew what the gesture meant. Larissa gave your daughter the same wide-eyed look, surprised that her daughter was asking to be breastfed after a while of being bottle fed aside from solid foods. The problem was that Larissa stopped lactating, that was why you introduced her to bottled milk in the first place many months ago.

“Mommy has no more milk, love. How about maman make you some milk in your favourite bottle, the one with pink butterflies. Would you like that?”

She shook her head, “Mommy,” she firmly said, tapping the breast again. The expression your daughter had told you she wasn’t going to take any bullshit excuse and was firm on getting what she wanted. Larissa blamed you, saying she got the attitude from you. You made no attempt to deny it.

–

You went into the kitchen while Larissa was held hostage by your daughter, happily suckling from the woman until she finally fell into a deep slumber. Larissa did wash first, of course before caving in to your daughter’s inexplicable urge for breastmilk even if she had nothing more to offer than puffy, pink nipples which were now extra sore. Fucking hell, she was sore from her nipples down to her cunt.

Larissa rubbed her nipples over her pajama shirt, she pulled a stool and sat on it. It was visible how tired she was and yet her body was still craving for a good fuck, or maybe a cold shower to numb the ache in between her legs. No. A good fuck was better. She groaned, running her fingers through her messed up bun.

A good fuck that world seemed to be depriving her of, not because you were incapbale of giving it to her, but damn, she had had enough of being disturbed. She was so close to combusting, her orgasm be damned.

The gentle glow of the kitchen light made her appearance more softer and she hated (loved) that charming look on your face as if you were yet to be drained by this day. You made your way to her and wrapped your arms around her waist, your chin gently resting on her shoulder. “Do you still want to fuck?”

Larissa’s ears instantly went pink, her nipples tingling for your mouth. She was extremely starved for sex. And when your fingers started to toy with the waistband of her pants she felt her cunt leaking again. She spread her legs further “Yes...” she exhaled. Her hand clamped around your wrist pushed your hand deeper. “Please, fuck me. I just want to get over this and sleep for twenty-four hours straight.” With all the Nevermore induced stress, Larissa deserved to be railed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours or so.

You giggled and buried your nose to her shoulder, sniffing her scent, then your lips kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Enjoy the ride, babe” she felt you grinning onto her skin. “I’ve got you,” and with that, she felt three of your fingers entering her altogether. There was pain from the stretch, her teeth digging to her plump lip.

Larissa felt the searing pain as you languidly drag your digits in and out of her, the sloshing sound when the whole length disappear into her sodden cunt made her cheeks appear more flushed, her whole body getting warmer, her sweat gathering in the valley of her breasts and down her spine. She wasn’t going to last long but she tried to hold her orgasm as much as she could.

“I should fuck you more like this.” you whispered, feeling her pussy clenched around your fingers. She responded with obscene sounds of her positively enjoying the way your fingers felt inside her cunt, encouraging you more.

She turned to kiss you ardently before moaning into your mouth and sucking your lips. “Deeper, love. Fuck. I need you deeper.” Without exactly knowing when was deep, deep enough. She just wanted to feel you, all of you.

When she came, Larissa whispered to you, ushering you to move right in front of her so you did. Your fingers were still soaked, and your muscles burned, you held her face and pulled her into a kiss. You felt her relax, her shoulders dropping, her arms coming around to wrap you.

“We’re cleaning the kitchen before we sleep.” Larissa said, making you both laugh. You nodded in agreement.

#principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems smut #larissa weems fanfic #gwendoline christie imagines #larissa weems imagine #gwendoline christie

544 notes · View notes

headcanonenthusiast · 5 months

Text

Kyle Garrick NSFW headcanons

This was so difficult to write for some reason and idk why 😭😭 I think I just had a lot of trouble writing for Gaz, because as much as I like him as a character, I'm not much of a Gaz girl. (Or, I wasn't before writing this. I think I changed my own mind with these headcanons 🤭)

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His biggest mission during sex is to make you scream.

-If you haven't screamed his name so loudly that it gets you a volume warning on a smart watch, he isn't done.

-Will beg you to be even louder if he isn't satisfied with your volume.

-"C'mon, louder. Louder, baby, you can be louder than that."

-Lowkey doesn't mind fucking you near an open window. Def leans down to whisper in your ear to encourage you to be louder.

-"Don't go covering your mouth now, love. Let the neighbors hear how good I'm making you feel."

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard.

-Calls you pretty girl/boy all the time.

-Especially if you're wearing something of his, whether it be a shirt or necklace or his dog tags.

-Honestly, whenever he sees you in his clothing, especially his dog tags, he goes crazy.

-"Look at you, pretty boy/girl. Keeping my shirt nice and warm for me."

-OBSESSED with taking you while you're on your stomach.

-He'll lean down to kiss your shoulders and back, fingers switching between your hip to your side.

-Isn't opposed to you being on top, as long as you're both enjoying yourselves.

-Like I said, he loves taking you from behind. As such, he sees any sort of marks or dots that you normally don't even see. And he'll run his fingers along any birthmarks/scars with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

-Feel like he'd like recording/taking pictures of it, too. (With consent ofc)

-And he definitely won't share those photos with anyone. They are only for his eyes and your own.

-"God, baby. I ruined you last night. Look at how messy your hair got."

-I feel like he sends the most gorgeous nudes.

-He basically poses for you like a model in front of the mirror. Mf knows he's hot.

-I feel like the main way he asks for sex is sending you a nude or spicy message. Normally doesn't ask for it outright, kinda let's it go over text or come into the night randomly.

-He sees eating you out/sucking you off as a great way to calm you down.

-If somethings got you upset, he'll get a small frown on his face and look more concerned. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to, though. Just let him gently eat your pussy/suck your dick and I can guarantee that you'll forget about whatever was upsetting you.

-If you feel more overstimulated or just have the tendency to cry from the sensations of sex, he's stopping and pulling out with a hand on your shoulder.

-"Oh shit, did I hurt you? I'm sorry, babe."

-And even if he didn't hurt you at all, it just felt super good, he never pressures you into continuing. If you want to keep going, he'll return to a similar pace but with more awareness of your facial expressions and noises.

-I feel like he'd want to try cockwarming you, but he's honestly so bad at keeping still. It's not his fault you feel too good to not move inside of.

-"Come on, baby. You feel so good, you're so fucking tight. It'd be sinful of me not to move."

-Please put your hands on his shoulders if you're on your back. Nothing will get him harder than you touching his shoulders.

-And if you cry out his name? His confidence shoots through the roof and he nearly cums right then and there.

-Prefers cumming on your stomach, back or thighs so he can take pictures afterwards.

-Aftercare includes him handing you some water before grabbing two game controllers, asking if you'd like to play a game before bed. And if you agree, y'all's moans won't be the only thing the neighbors complain about. Your laughter will probably be as loud as the moans, too.

-And maybe whoever loses the game has to bottom for the next round, idk 🤭

My hands hurt from typing so much 😭 but thanks to everyone who voted! It was challenging to write for Gaz, bc like I said, until an hour ago when I started writing this I wasn't super attracted to him, but I need to learn to write for characters I don't often think about more. Hope y'all enjoyed! Alejandro is up next 😏

153 notes · View notes

tulipsforvin · 8 months

Text

“Drying Their Hair„

Characters: Albert James Moriarty, William James Moriarty, Louis James Moriarty.

Tags: Short fluff, Established relationships, Wet hair, Reader dries hair of their S/O, Married couples.

Format: Story Writing.

William J. Moriarty

You watch as the bathroom door opens and your husband walks out, water dripping from his body - only a towel wrapped around his waist as he runs a hand through his blond hair. Orange hues of sunlight cascade onto the skin of his fairly toned ab muscles from the windows.

“Darling—” He begins. “Not now, I'm busy.” You murmur, eyeing him up and down. Truly, you were busy, because when else would you find the time to appreciate that body when he was already so busy with his job as a professor & a crime consultant?

“My dear, if you have time to gawk at me like that then I can surely assume you have enough time to dry my hair?” He raises an eyebrow, passing you a towel that you swear wasn't in either of his hands just seconds ago.

“Where did that come from?” You ask, sitting up in bed as you look down at the towel that he passed to you.

“The gall to speak back to you or the towel?” He smirks.

“Both.” You say, grinning at his witty words as you watch him drag a stool infront of your bed and place himself down on it, facing you. He leans down a little so you can easily dry his hair without having to strain upwards to match his height. You scooch up closer to the edge of the bed and place the towel on his soft blond hair.

“Who knows?” He sighs, satisfied as you begin to dry his hair with the towel - making sure to be gentle in your movements. He leans further against you, face resting into your chest as you continue to pat his hair down with the towel.

“William?” You whisper, feeling his arms wrap around your waist lazily as you continue to dry his hair.

“...Hm?” He hums, head drooping and eyelids growing heavy.

“Are you going to fall asleep? You haven't even gotten dressed. You'll catch a cold.”

“Mmm..” He hums again. You're not sure if that meant he would stay awake or fall asleep. But when you hear his breath grow slower and his grip around your waist loosen, you begin to think that it was the latter.

Albert J. Moriarty

He's just returned from being dispatched by the government for an entirety of four days to take down a national-threat level criminal. It's safe to say that when he came back, he's acting very clingy towards you.

He'd saunter in through the door, arms wrapped around you and burying your face into the crook of your neck, as you're preparing yourself a cup of tea.

“You smell so good. So warm. So much like home.” He murmurs softly, breathing in your comforting scent.

“And you reek of sweat. Go take a shower.” You tell him, nudging him away with your elbow. He groans, detaching himself away from you as he sulks away to the bathroom.

When he returns, he practically drags you to the vanity mirror hands you a towel and sits himself down on a chair infront of it.

“What?” You ask. “My hair, love. Won't you dry it for me?” He looks at you with his handsome features, smirking. He reaches up his pointer finger to poke at your cheek.

You melt, feeling yourself redden slightly and hide it away with a scoff as you begin to dry his hair. He relaxes in your touch, facing the mirror as your hands work expertly.

“I don't understand why you felt the need to have me dry your hair infront of a mirror, though. Perhaps you've been told that your spouse was actually a vampire and you felt the need to confirm it yourself?”

You question, focused entirely on drying off his hair with the towel when he laughs softly. It's a nice sound - his laughter. So warm, so beautiful. So, so full of love for you.

“No. That's not it.” he says, smiling to himself as he looks at the two of you in the mirror. You notice his gaze focused on your face. “I've been away for days, sweet love.”

“Your point?”

“My point, (Name), is that having a mirror infront of us allows me to steal glances at you and have you touch me at the same time. Something I couldn't do without hindering your efforts had I been looking up to face you instead.”

Louis J. Moriarty

You would have to be the one offering to dry this sweet man's hair. I presume he'd be too embarrassed to tell you to do it for him, especially if the two of you have recently gotten married. Especially pre-timeskip.

“Louis, let me do it for you.” You offer, grabbing a towel and then walking over to him.

“Ah, no. It's alright, (Name). I possibly couldn't—” He attempts to refute and you shush him with a kiss to the lips. He flushes red immediately, staggering back and grabbing onto a nearby chair to prevent his knees from giving out.

You push him down onto that very chair, lips still locked onto his for a few moments before you pull away, smiling smugly down at him. He looks up at you with a somewhat dazed and somewhat surprised expression, slightly out of breath. His eyes falls to your lips momentarily before he rips his gaze away, clearing his throat.

You're stifling a laughter making it's way upward your throat when he pulls you down onto his lap, making you face him. You gasp softly, surprised at the sudden action.

He's not one to talk much and would most likely be nuzzling against you as you as you begin to dry his hair.

“How bold.” You tease, grinning widely.

“No. Only comfortable.” He blabbers against your shoulder, sighing in pleasure when he feels you rub his hair with the towel to dry it.

#william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x y/n #william james moriarty x you #x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #james moriarty #yuumori #albert james moriarty x y/n #albert james moriarty x you #albert james moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #louis james moriarty x you #louis james moriarty x y/n #louis james moriarty x reader #soft fluff #fluff #headcannons

379 notes · View notes

ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 months

Text

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: vi

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

"Need a pick me up?"

You open your eyes to see the youngest of your grade holding a cold bottle of green tea. "Oh, thanks," you grab the cool bottle from Suguru's hands gratefully. You had been sitting in the living room area on the couch when you started drifting off. Staying up for hours the past couple nights training with Gojou is a draining experience.

"It's not coffee but it has caffeine in it," he takes a seat next you, nestling against the arm on the opposite end of the couch. "Did you have trouble sleeping? When I got up to get water, it smelled like someone had been cooking. Was that you?"

Guilty as charged, you deny nothing. "Was up late bullshittin' and decided to chef it up in the kitchen," you shrug nonchalantly.

Your little training sessions with Gojou always go on longer than you originally planned. He's surprisingly strict and persistent nor does he really hold back with any comments on what you're doing wrong, but they're all fair assessments. So just as you did the first night this began, you cooked you both a late night dinner before skipping off to bed.

"Did you meet that Naoya guy, by the way?" The way Suguru's face twists into an annoyed grimace is enough of answer. I'm already coming up with comebacks for the next time I see him, I wasn't fully prepared the last time. "Yeah, can't believe Gojou wasn't just being overdramatic for once. Please kick that guy's ass if you get paired up in the individual battles." You wonder how it will go since there's an uneven number of combatants. Will it be 1v1 fights split between four of them or will it be an all out jumping with every Kyoto student fighting Suguru and Gojou all at once? You suppose you'll find out in a couple days. "Our legacy is on the line!"

The curse user chuckles, "I'll be sure to defend it fiercely," he vows poshly, bowing with a hand over his heart. "Should I fail, I'll gladly banish myself from your sight for all time."

Giggles slip from your lips with ease. Serious as Suguru looks, he's quite playful. It was something you appreciated during your first days at Jujutsu Tech when you came in a month later than the other first years.

Utahime was a doting senpai, Shoko was kind but respectful, Gojou was annoying and Suguru was helpful with an air of spiritedness. He didn't come at you with wave after wave of prodding questions about where you came from, why you were in Japan or even jokes about your technique the way Gojou did. Yet he was more forward than Shoko who was more content to let you do the reaching. Your transition into being integrated into the already established friend group in a way was thanks to Suguru. You were more grateful than you'd ever reveal.

"You know, if being a sorcerer doesn't work out for you, you should really consider a career in acting." Suguru only snorts at your comment. "I'm serious! I can see you reciting Shakespeare as we speak!"

Suguru rolls his eyes but it's good-natured, "as if a sorcerer would be satisfied in a normal career."

"You never know," you lean against the arm of the couch you're on with a grin. "Having backups might be a good idea! You just don't wanna admit I'm right that you have a flair for theatrics."

One of Suguru's eyebrows raises inquisitively, "what are your plans? After we graduate, I mean," he clarifies as quickly as he asks. "Even before you came to this school, I'm sure that's something you had to think about. Were you planning to go back to your home country after graduation?"

Your eyes dart to the corner of the room and you press your lips together, shoulders stiffening ever-so-slightly. You hope it isn't noticeable but perceptive as Suguru is, you know he can tell. "That's," you think of your mother and father and your uneasy upbringing. How your relationship improved after you moved out the house. It isn't like there'd be much of a problem now that I know what curses are. And even by the time I got to middle school, I got better at ignoring them. It would be different if you moved back in with them. "Something I'm still figuring out, I guess."

It isn't as if you never thought of your future. You knew inevitably that it was something you'd have to cross. You suppose you were just hoping to leave that problem for the [First] of the future to deal with. "I'm not really opposed to staying a sorcerer," you continue truthfully. "But I'm not really sure how the jujutsu scene works in my country. We probably don't have an organized force of jujutsu sorcerers like Japan, maybe I could start one."

Suguru mulls over his next question thoughtfully as if he is unsure he even wants to ask. "Why did you come to Japan, if you don't mind me asking."

You mull over if that's something you want to answer yourself, "well-"

"What are you two talking about over here?" Saved by a bell cosplaying as a lanky, nearly 190 cm teenager with white hair who wears sunglasses indoors. Gojou yawns as he approaches the couch you and Suguru are sitting on, he reaches a hand out almost expectantly to your green tea. You open the bottle, taking another swig before you hand it over before Gojou takes a large gulp himself. One that is literally more than half of the bottle.

"Most of that is mine, Gojou," you remind him a sharp look but there's no real bark or bite in your words, you're too tired.

Gojou shrugs, lips still resting on the neck and finish of the bottle, "I'll get you another one," he mumbles nearly incoherently, drinking the rest without a care in the world.

He's lucky you're more amenable to his morning shenanigans because he's been helping you the past couple nights. "Whatever, just put it in the fridge after you buy it."

"Looks like I jinxed you after all," Suguru chuckles to your right and you groan because he's probably right.

"I'm fighting your jinx with all my might," you mutter back. Apparently, once indulging Gojou becomes habit, it's hard to stop. Or is it a bit much to say you indulge Gojou if the most you really do is share food and drink? You're too tired to consider the nuances in this particular moment.

"What jinx?" Gojou cocks his head to the side.

"Nothing," you yawn again. "It's the nunya jinx where if Gojou asks too many questions, I stop sharing all my snacks with him." It's satisfying to see how both boy looks at you in confusion when you speak in your native tongue. As much of a disadvantage you were put in when you first came to Japan because of it, it's become a nice little source of privacy among your peers that don't know the language. A pocket of something you can keep to yourself. "Anyway, it's just a little inside joke between the non-sorcerer family hailing kids on the block," you wink at Suguru and he closes his eyes with a small smile.

The still-cold bottom of what was once your green tea is placed against your forehead in retribution.

Maybe you won't cook for Gojou tonight.

ー

[Today, 14:43]

Shoko: The Kyoto Tech kids passed us up heading to the training area. Naoya is with them. Have fun with that www.

Me: ^o^ don't worry I won't~

It's a day before the Sister Exchange event truly begins when you see the Kyoto Tech students again.

There's only one training outdoor training facility at this school and so, if you all happen to use it at the same time, there isn't much that can be done about it.

You can see why Utahime listed Kamo Ririka as a person of interest, she's gorgeous. You pointedly ignore your friend sputtering that is not why Ririka had been mentioned in favor of focusing on her pastel pink hair. "I only mentioned her at all because you wanted to know about the Kamo students at Kyoto Tech!"

She whispers furiously in your ear, you personally think the dust of pink on Utahime's cheeks still lean favorably towards your theory. Me thinks the lady doth protest too much, you puff your cheeks in coyly. That only serves to make Utahime press her fingers against them to release the air stored in them. "Also, the person you mentioned before with the green streak in his hair," you spot the very lad yourself. "That's Kumatetsu, he's a second year like you."

"Thank you, Utahime, I appreciate your knowledge."

"I could have told you that," Gojou shrugs.

Your side eye is directs to the boy as quick as ever, "you said you didn't even talk to these guys much last year, how am I supposed to know what you know?"

Four of your seven peers are absent from this coincidental gathering. Haibara and Nanami are on some sort of spur of the moment mission and will be back later in the evening. Shoko and Suguru went on a quest to get drinks from the vending machine. As for Mei Mei, she didn't care for training for an event she wouldn't be part of.

Gojou sticks his tongue at you and you return the favor. "Naoya, looking horrid as ever, I see," Gojou waves at the first year with so much mock enthusiasm, you might have thought he was being genuine when he sauntered over to the Zenin. "I'm not good at holding back so if you go home now, I promise to be nice the next time I see you."

Utahime scowls, "Gojou, they just got here-"

"Eager for my attention I see," Utahime's attempt to stop feathers from being ruffled is futile as Naoya welcomes the jabs with his own. As far as you're concerned, Gojou can rile the Zenin boy up all he wants. "Had I known that, I would have done my best to say hi the other day if I hadn't been interrupted."

You snort as you thumb out a text to Shoko that the Kyoto students have arrived. That she and Suguru should probably prepare for the training grounds to be in shambles when they return. And that if a fight starts between Gojou and the mustard-haired first year, you won't be stopping it.

Me: Hell I'll jump in and help!

Shoko: Getou says he would you not get into a fight but if you do, punch Naoya for him if he doesn't make it back in time.

"Even Icarus had to learn a lesson about flying too close to the sun. I look forward to the day the Six Eyes is humbled and brought back down to earth with the rest of us," you thumb halts over your keyboard, glancing at where Gojou and Naoya presently stand. It irks you at how easily Naoya says it, clearly accustomed to using it. "Hopefully it'll be me. But honestly, why wait for tomorrow when we can see what happens today, Si-"

"He has a name," you close your silver Nokia flip, slipping it into your pocket. You feel the buzz of a message coming through but you choose to ignore it in favor scratching the dark irritating itch growing in your stomach.

"Excuse me?" Two heads look at you at your interjection. Naoya who looks at you like you're an insect large enough to garner attention, and Gojou who tilts his head at you curiously.

"A name," you repeat yourself, setting a hand on your hip as you glare back into amber eyes. They just barely look at you with anything other than cold indifference. "Gojou has one. I call you Whiney the Poo and Bitch Baby in my head all the time and I still manage to call you Zenin Naoya out loud so stop calling him that."

"And what happens if I keep doing it in, senpai?" Never before have you wanted to punch someone this badly. Never and you live with Gojou Satoru, the menace of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech.

"You wanna say the shit again and find out?" Matter of fact, you want Naoya to say it. You take a step forward, all too eager to put the arrogant first year in his place. "You know what, go ahead. Make my day. Say the shit again and see what happens to your ass."

"Okay," Utahime's hand grips your shoulder tightly before you can take another step. "I think we should just train on that side of the training grounds," she points feverishly to the opposite side of the track field that is considerably further than where the Kyoto students have settled.

The Kyoto second year from the other day ー Kumatetsu, if you remember correctly ー places his own arm in front of the aggravating first year. Pretty third year Ririka sighs in equal parts, dark green eyes darkening as she watches the scene unfolding in front of her. "Yeah, that would be nice, there's just so much space here to train," he agrees with Utahime with swift ease. "Why just bundle up in one little corner here, right?"

"Nah, he can move if he wants to though," you snap in Naoya's direction, nodding your chin to where Utahime's finger leads. "Take your first year before I embarrass his ass in front of everybody."

"No no, there doesn't need to be any fighting," Kumatetsu replies with a frantic but annoyed smiled. "We don't want any problems, we're all allies here. We don't want to fight." As if sensing the mustard-haired first year was about to open his mouth and deny that claim, Kumatetsu covers it with without even blinking. "Ignore him, he doesn't want to fight."

"Yeah, I wouldn't wanna fight me either," you roll your eyes. When you see that particular comment grinds Naoya's gears more than anything, you decide to give yourself the win. Bitch Baby 0, [First] 1, you nod to yourself as Naoya is unceremoniously dragged to the rest of his Kyoto peers in a tight headlock away from you and infinitely further from your tallest classmate.

You tap Utahime's hand lightly. "It's fine, I'm not gonna run over and drop kick him if you let me go." Utahime doesn't look like she entirely believes you and you can't really blame her in this moment. You don't think you've ever been that mad before, not in front of these particular classmates at least. When was the last time I got like this actually, you struggle to sort your thoughts as you try to calm yourself down. Right, right, that time with Takuya and his hair.

Takuya, your old crush from your first and second years of middle school. A core member of your friend group with Chinatsu and Tooru until he moved away after the end of second year. I wonder how he's doing, we haven't heard from him in forever. He was a kind boy, a real sweetheart, that's why you liked him so much. His eyes were as black as the night but your favorite thing about him was his hair. You became friends because of it, actually. His dark red hair was long and almost always kept in a braid.

Then some asshole tried cutting it. That was the first and only school brawl you got into in your entire life, skirt on and all. Thank you, Auntie Chiharu, for not grounding me for punching that guy first.

To think the next time you'd get so angry would be for Gojou's sake.

What has this world come to?

"We're going this way," Utahime tells you firmly, upperclassman voice front and center.

"Fine," you sigh. This motherfucker pissing me off, you glare in Naoya's direction one more time. I haven't cussed like this since my Sakuragi Middle days. Your eyes catch Gojou's shades before you turn, his expression unreadable. Partially because half of his face is obscured, partially because the bottom half of his face gives no clues as to what he might be thinking.

Ugh, he has me over here defending Gojou of all people. This might be more unforgivable than Naoya's presence being generally unpleasant. Your glare narrows with a click of your tongue but you smooth out your face since Gojou is who you're looking at. It isn't like Gojou is the one you're mad at. The same rules from before applies. No one messes with one of us except for us. And even then, there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. You turn to follow Utahime begrudgingly to where she is briskly walking to. When you feel the unmistakable shape of an arm draping across your shoulders, you groan, "Gojou don't start."

Unfortunately, the menace of your class is already snickering much to your chagrin. "Oh [First], you do care!" Gojou swoons, leaning against you as if he's a damsel. "I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it myself!"

"I did not do that because I like you," you deny uselessly, knowing it won't matter what you say. "We just have a temporary We Hate Gojou Alliance truce going on right now. The We Hate Zenin Naoya Alliance takes precedence over any of your shenanigans during this time period." Utahime doesn't argue against it, so perhaps there really is a truce going on with Gojou.

"You know, the more you say that, the more I'm convinced that you're secretly the president of my fan club," Gojou all but beams. Maybe it's you but he seems slightly more obnoxious than normal and you decide that's likely a good thing in this particular instance. "You can be honest."

You huff but you don't move to immediately shove his heavy ass off of you. He didn't look like he was particularly bothered by Naoya's nasty comments, but you didn't want to assume when you spoke up. Well as long as he's in a good mood, I guess that's all that matters. "Yeah, yeah, you caught me," you decide to indulge the boy only two days older than you. "Number 1 Gojou Satoru fan right here, don't tell Utahime."

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

Here you go, chapter 6 prime for the reading and a day away from the Sister Exchange Event taking place. Y'all are getting this a day early because I have something to do all day this Friday and I'm not sure if I'd be able to get up then at a proper time.

Anyways, Reader is appalled. Naoya's got you out here defending Gojou's honor and shit, you need to rethink your priorities in life. But at least you can confidently say that you'll call Naoya out on his shit whenever the opportunity presents itself time and time again. Turn us up, Whiney the Poo.

See y'all next week.

Likes and Reblogs appreciated.

#look she's writing #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #getou x you #i cherish you halcyon days

48 notes · View notes

lucidreamer-uwu · 2 years

Text

Being their seatmate: Dateables Edition I

Link to Part 1: Brothers Edition

Diavolo

Would try his very best to set an example and not talk to you during class but ends up striking a conversation anyway.

Can he copy your notes? He didn't catch that last part. And by last part he means half the lesson.

Gifted you a fountain pen once as an anonymous admirer and thought he was being so sneaky about it leaving it on your desk, telling you that it was there when he got there.

Wiggles his way out of trouble until Barbatos finds out and scolds both of you.

He absolutely loves the idea of passing notes and makes it extremely obvious that you two do it. He gets too excited and makes major reactions to each note you send him too.

Likes teaching you things you don't understand.

Barbatos

Another Mr perfect.

Has the cleanest most organized notes.

His desk is always neat and tidy.

Offers to teach you how to arrange your things too.

Will bring you surprise water bottles of his freshly brewed tea when he starts noticing how you can't focus for too long and get burnt out. He says the tea will especially increase focus and brain attentiveness, which you greatly appreciate.

I have a feeling that he'd watch you panic and suffer for a few minutes when you forget your pen or a sheet of paper or a notebook before he lends you one of his spares. Unlike Satan though, he doesn't intentionally bring extra supplies exclusively for you, he just does because he's Barbatos.

Will tell you not to pass him notes before you even write a single word.

I bet he'd rat you out for talking with or passing notes to anyone other than himself just because he doesn't want you to. If you did talk to him however, he'd still encourage you to pay attention. But that doesn't mean you can tend to others other than him! He finds it unpleasant to see others satisfying you when it should be him doing that.

Simeon

Alternates from being the one asking for a spare pen and lending you a spare pen.

He accepts and reads the notes you pass him but he only smiles as acknowledgement and doesn't write back because he's trying to set an example :((

Angelic handwriting

Likes to play with or hold your hand to keep him motivated and focused. His hands are warm and super comforting too!

Torn between wanting to sit next to you and not because when he does sit with you, he notices that he often ends up staring at you more than he listens to the lessons and focuses on his tasks. You're his biggest distraction and motivation.

Once when you had free time during class, you taught him how to make paper airplanes and he is obsessed with them. Consequently, he got really into origami and starts to gift you with paper flowers whenever you had class together. Different origami figures will be waiting on your desk every time you had class.

Doesn't remember to put his phone on silent so you help him every time.

He smells like a bakery.

Luke

Brings you sweets that he makes every once in a while.

Has cute stationary.

This boy is the living breathing sunshine of the Devildom so he is more than enough to keep you from drifting off to sleep. Heck he even motivates you to do better without saying a thing!

You both tutor each other and help the other out.

Positive vibes all around ~ ! But will rant every now and then about Mammon calling him names again.

Offers to help you with homework after class.

Would doodle cute drawings on scratch paper that you give him.

Solomon

Interested in every lesson in class so he is focused and is surprisingly quiet despite you trying to chat.

Mischief when he doesn't pay attention in class. You two try to get away with your shenanigans. Being the only humans, you guys felt like you'd been friends for forever. So you have a lot of inside jokes about human world things.

The witty sorcerer WILL try to get you in trouble at times when you two are messing around. He will make noises like fake coughs or just flat out calling the professor's attention for bogus reasons when you try passing him notes. And you do the same with him.

Both of you struggle to understand Devildom lessons so you do wholesome study sessions with each other.

If he gets to class first, he will purposely sit on two seats, his own and yours, just to tease you. He'd say that it's taken and that you had to find another seat. When you give up fighting for your seat back and pulled up an extra chair, you find that he is seated properly in his own seat acting all sheepish and innocent. He's done this childishly more times that you're willing to admit honestly.

You are often his shield from Thirteen's trap attacks. And he feels NO SHAME whatsoever using you like that. He do you dirty >:c

But he'd offer to make it up to you after class every single time.

Will let you lay your head on his shoulder in case you're tired. And may or may not pull little teasing pranks on you while he's at it.

2K notes · View notes

eomayas · 10 months

Text

new thing (pt. 6) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f!reader, age gap, established relationship

synopsis: your break with chanyeol lasts longer than expected and you try to make something work.

genre: heavy angst, smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! bit of fluff

warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!! lots of angst and unspoken feelings, swearing, pwp (kinda) p in v, mentions of alcohol and drinking and being drunk

a/n: bruh yall inspired me to writeeee so here you go! i love reading all of your messages omg they’re so funny and sweet! i hope you like this 🩷 thanks for all of the support

a ‘little while’ turns into 2 weeks. the school year begins within those 14 days, and you throw yourself into your courses, occupying your time with 1 credit classes so you don’t have time to think about anything other than graduating and your education. when you do have a moment to yourself and to think, you force yourself to think of everything but chanyeol. it’s hard, since nearly everything reminds you of him. you’ve thought about texting him but resisted, chickening out at the last second.

it’s a friday night and you have no set plans. seulgi is going out with her boyfriend, so you have the house to yourself and a movie queued up on your laptop. ideally, you’d have someone to spend this quiet friday night in with, but alas. you’ve been single before; you’ll survive a movie night alone.

looking through your cabinets, you sigh at the lack of snack options, and things you want to eat. it’s been awhile since you’ve been shopping, having gotten used to being around somebody who constantly cooked for you, or took you out to eat. it’s the little things about not being with chanyeol that you feel like you took for granted. in this case, it’s grocery shopping.

grabbing your keys and purse, you throw on a sweatshirt before heading out of your apartment and down to your car. you hop in and make the short drive down to the corner store.

a quick glance around the parking lot would’ve told you to stay in your car, but it slips your mind as you’re here for a snack run, not expecting to be here long.

you beeline for the chip aisle, grabbing a bag of chips for yourself and another bag for seulgi. you stay there for a second, scanning a few other options before feeling satisfied and going to the coolers. there, you grab an iced tea and a water before getting ready to close the door, but a voice makes you freeze and stiffen, the door stuck mid-swing in your palm.

“bro, stop fucking around,” you know that voice better than you know your own. you’ve dreamt about it constantly, wishing for it to call on you, to say sweet things to you, like it used to. but now, it’s not yours to even want in that way.

slamming the cooler door, you quickly spin on your heel, racing down the aisle, not paying attention to where you’re going, but knowing that you need to get out. but you slam into a hard body, nearly knocking you backwards. “holy shit!” the man says, quickly turning around and reaching out an arm to steady you. “are you okay?” he asks.

footsteps round the corner, curses flowing from the mouth that belongs to the one you want more than anything, more than these snacks in your arms. “what the fuck did you do now? sorry for my cousin, he’s an id-“ his voice cuts off when he gets closer, stopping a few feet behind jongin. you raise your head, your eyes zeroing in on chanyeol.

“it was my fault,” you mean to say it to jongin, to apologize for not paying attention, but you can’t rip your eyes away from chanyeol. but now you’re apologizing to, technically the wrong person, but they both deserve two different types of apologies. “i wasn’t thinking.” you say, wondering if he can read between the lines and take it as an apology for the end of your relationship.

“he’s an idiot,” chanyeol says, making jongin scoff. there’s that glimmer in his eyes, the one that doesn’t fail to make you smile every time, but now you hold it back. you almost forget jongins there, until he mutters that he’s going to leave you and chanyeol alone.

there’s an awkward silence before chanyeol takes a single step closer to you. “hey,” he says, offering you a small smile. your heart hammers wildly in your chest, feeling like it’s going to crack through your bones and beat right out of your chest. “how’ve you been?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

“fine. and you?” it’s like making small talk with somebody in an elevator; it’s terrible. you want to scream and run out of here, but you’re rooted to the floor and don’t trust your legs. you wonder if he can see your trembling hands, or if the snacks in them are doing enough to obscure their shaking.

“i’m good!” he says, and he sounds like he means it. it breaks your heart again, because there’s been countless nights where you’ve lain awake with thoughts of him running through your mind. you’re not even to being ‘good’, barely surpassing being ‘fine’.

you mumble a ‘that’s good’, and he says he’s going to go find jongin. “it was nice seeing you, y/n,” and you could call to your knees in tears, because it’s the first time he’s said your name in 14 days and you miss how it sounds coming from him.

“you too,” you squeak. he glances down at your arms full of snacks and gives you a small smile. you’re about to return it until you glance down at his hands, and feel your blood run cold.

chanyeol follows your line of sight to his hands and tries to indiscreetly hide the box of condoms, but you’ve already seen them. he can feel his neck heating up and feels the need to explain himself, that no, he has no intentions of using them soon, but the words don’t find him. your throat burns and your eyes sting, but you manage to not any tears fall, or let your voice give way to what’s happening inside of you when you say, “i’m gonna go,” and speed walk away on shaky legs.

luckily for you, there’s nobody in line at the check. you throw your stuff down on the counter and glance over your shoulder to make sure you don’t see either chanyeol or jongin. you pay as quickly as you got in line, thank the cashier and grab your bag of stuff.

chanyeol and jongin are walking towards the checkout as you’re taking your stuff, and you practically sprint out with how fast you walk and the strides you take.

outside, your eyes come in direct contact with his black corvette and you scream internally, wondering how you missed it when it’s right there, practically in front of the doors and not too far from you own car.

you feel like some sick joke is being played on you, and you throw your stuff into the backseat before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road. you drive half a mile before your eyes start to well up with tears, and drive another 500 kilometers before turning on a random street and pulling over to bawl into your hands.

you allow yourself to let go, to let nasty, ugly sobs from feo within your chest escape. you shake against the steering wheel, wishing you never went out for food you have no appetite for anymore, so that you could avoid seeing him. by the looks of it, he’s truly no longer yours because the two of you rarely, if ever, used condoms. there’s somebody else who’s going to get to experience him in ways that you long for.

when you get back to your apartment, you forego your movie plans and instead text some friends and ask if they’re busy. they tell you they are, that they’re going out (like most people you know), and ask if you want to come. you don’t hesitate to say ‘yes’, and start getting ready. chanyeol isn’t going to ruin your night, and you’re not going to sit here and mope and be single.

nearly two hours later, you’re ready and your friends wait for you downstairs. you wear the littlest black dress you own, one that barely covers your ass and is backless. it’s cowl neck is low, showing a good amount of cleavage, and your heels are high. you don’t intend to go home with somebody, but you plan to get attention in whatever way it comes.

shortly after you get to the club, drinks are practically thrown your way. decent enough men buy you drinks, and in return get a bit of your conversation before you always dismiss yourself to your friends. every time a man comes up to you, you make a mental list of every way he is not chanyeol, comparing everything down to their finger nails. of course, no man is going to compare to him, at least for now, so you drink until you start to forget what he looks like with your eyes closed.

you do cut yourself off, though, not wanting to vomit all over everything and everybody in this club. you take a seat in your section and go on your phone, checking your instagram to see all the photos and videos you’ve been tagged in tonight. you repost all of them to you stories, smiling as you type out silly captions for all of them.

one of your friends comes over to you, drunk and slurring as she tells you to come dance. you abandon your phone and get into the circle with your friends, dancing sensually with whatever the DJ decides to play.

by the time you call it quits for the night, you’ve sobered up enough to make it safely into your apartment. you stumble down the hallway to your bedroom as quietly as you can walking in heels on wood floors, and fall onto your bed. you lie there for a moment before you remember to wake yourself up and at least take your shoes off so you can go to bed.

plugging your phone into the charger, you look at your screen and see you have an instagram dm from chanyeol. your stomach flips as you unlock your phone and click on the notification, biting your bottom lip.

he’s replied to a video on your story, one of you dancing. but you’re not dancing alone, you’re dancing on a man, his hands holding onto your hips and lower back as you throw your ass on him. you don’t remember doing this, and the man doesn’t look familiar but it definitely happened.

real_pcy: so this is what we’re doing now?

11:53pm

you: we’re not together.

1:31am

real_pcy: lmao alright.

1:35am

you wake up hours later with a raging headache, a terrible taste in your mouth, and the feeling that you did something bad. you pat the bed next to you to make sure there’s nobody there, and sigh in relief when it’s empty and just pillows.

you can barely remember anything that happened after you got in the uber to the club and before you got into your bed. you remember bits and pieces, but they’re muddled and incomplete.

a frown takes over your features as you try to remember, but nothing solid comes to mind. you glance over at your digital clock that reads 12:12pm, and sigh, sitting up and groaning when your head feels like somebody is stomping on it.

grabbing your phone, you gasp and let it slip out of your grasp. it’s a bad idea to scramble out of bed to get it, but you do anyway and pick it up from the floor. you frantically open it and go to your messages, expecting to see chanyeols name at the top, but you don’t. you frown again as you try to remember where you messaged him, or if you made it up.

an instagram notification pings on your phone like a lightbulb going off in your brain, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you check your dms. again, his account isn’t at the top, and your frown turns into a scowl. “what the fuck?” you mutter. you go to the search tab and type in his username. it pops up, but when you click on it, it says ‘follow’, rather than ‘following’ like it should.

your brain rolls around in your skull as you realize what’s happened, what he’s done. even during your little break, you guys remained mutuals on social media. of course, you never messaged each other, but no blocking transpired. clearly, he made the first move and removed you from his account entirely, making you an outsider.

you decide to do one better, and block him completely. you block him everywhere else, but hesitaste on his number. that’s different, feels more personal. you still want him to have access to you and vice versa, assuming he didn’t block you first.

backing out of his contact, you leave his number untouched and sigh. if you thought it was over before, it truly is now.

fourteen days turns into twenty-six, but you’re not counting. it’s been school, school, school, for you, and if you’re not on campus then you’re most likely asleep, unless it’s the weekend. you find things to occupy your two days off, like doing things with seulgi when she’s not with her boyfriend, or taking yourself out. you’ve been getting your hair done lately, wanting to change something in your control.

you drain the last of your coffee and rinse out the mug in the sink. an unfolded bag of laundry waits to be put away, on the couch, and you saunter over to it and pick it up and take it to your room.

you dump the bag onto your bed and start separating your clothes into piles. you get into a zone until you pick up a tshirt that is far too big and not yours, and purse your lips. you toss it into its own pile and search for the rest of the clothes in the pile that belong to him, which is a lot more than you care to admit.

folding everything neatly, you snap a picture and open your messages with him. your stomach roils at the thought of texting him, your last messages being nearly a month ago, from the night you ruined everything.

you chew on your bottom lip for a while before saying ‘fuck it’ and sending him the picture of his folded clothes and a message.

yn: hey these are yours. can i drop them off later?

chanyeol: yep. i can give you your things too. does 4 work?

yn: yes

chanyeol: see you later

you blow out a breath. you didn’t think he would respond so quickly and be so complying. had it been the other way around, you would’ve hoped he’d ship you your stuff in the mail so you didn’t have to deal with him. but now you have 6 hours to stress about seeing him since that fateful day at the drug store.

and those six hours roll around quickly, so quickly that you’ve changed your outfit twice, unsure of what you should look like when you see him. you decide on jeans and black cropped tshirt, and some sneakers. you figure it’s a regular enough outfit, and stuff his clothes into a tote bag before leaving your room.

“i’ll be back,” you say to seulgi, who sits on the couch, painting her nails. she looks up and waves, her eyes traveling to the full bag in your hands. “dropping off some stuff to chanyeol.” you clarify.

she raises an eyebrow. “you’re dropping off stuff?” she questions. you nod and her eyebrow manages to go up higher. “you sure that’s all?” she says, almost like she can see right through you, and the fact that you put on a matching set underneath your clothes—just in case.

“and i’m picking up my stuff,” you manage, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“do you plan to go inside?” she asks, and you hate this interrogation, but she’s seen you mope for nearly a month over him. you shrug and she sighs, going back to her nails. “just be… careful. i’ll call if i get worried, you know.”

you smile a small smile at her words. “i know. bye,” you leave after that and head down to you car. you take a deep breath before you put the key in the ignition, feeling many things at once. your stomach flips wildly and your hands are clammy at the mere thought of going to his house to see him.

you drive too fast for somebody who is supposedly just going to drop off items to their ex. you really shouldn’t be this… energized at seeing him, since you two didn’t exactly end on good terms. you told him to get out the first time and the second time you solidified that you’re both single. sometimes you wish you could bite your tongue more.

his neighborhood comes into view quickly, and when you hook the left onto his street your heart leaps into your throat. you drive slow down to his house and parallel park you car on the curb in front of his mailbox. this is one of the few times you’ve been here alone to see him, your toyota looking out of place in a neighborhood where the average car owned is a mercedes.

getting out, you grabs the bag of clothes and hold it tightly in your hands, taking ginger steps up his driveway to his door. you suck in a breath when you knock three times, and clutch the bag to your midsection.

the door swings open and you feel your knees buckle when you see chanyeol. mild shock passes on his face like he forgot you were coming over, and then he checks his watch. “hey, sorry i lost track of time,” he says, awkwardly standing in the door way. he looks at you, eyes quickly giving you a once over before they land on the bag in your hands. “shit, let me grab your stuff. do you want to come in?” he asks, already moving out of the way before you have the chance to respond.

your feet take you into his house before your brain can process what’s really happening. “i’ll be right back,” he says, jogging up his stairs while you stay in place in the corridor. you peek your head out to look in the living room to note any major changes and see one. you feel like there may be something different about his kitchen, but he’s already bounding back down the stairs when you think about looking. “here you go.” he says, extending the clothes to you.

you pull open the tote bag and try to grab his clothes, but the bag isn’t wide enough so they fall back in, most of them unfolding. chanyeol takes the bag from you and holds it open so you can grab them easily. it’s not even been 5 minutes, and you’re already embarrassing yourself.

“sorry,” you cringe when you hand him his unfolded clothes before you put your own in the bag.

chanyeol gives you a small, reassuring smile that makes your pulse skyrocket and you avert your eyes. “it’s fine,” he says but it only makes you flush more. “how are you? how’s school?” he asks.

“uh, fine and fine. i’m taking bullshit classes for the credit, so,” you say, shrugging. “you?”

chanyeol shrugs too, a small smile still on his face. “same old stuff; i’m helping kai produce some songs, getting sehun in the studio more now,” he says. you nod awkwardly look around, not really knowing what to say. chanyeol leans against the wall and slots his clothes underneath his armpit and presses it to his side so they don’t fall. “you seeing anybody?” he asks suddenly, making your eyes snap up to him, narrowing immediately.

“is that really any of your business?” you question, defense all in your voice. chanyeol shrugs, as it to say ‘i’m just asking’. “we’re not together.”

“obviously not,” he laughs, but he doesn’t find it funny. it actually makes him mildly sick to be reminded of it, for it to be said out loud by you of all people, because he had every intention of coming back to you until you seemingly called it quits for good. “but i saw that video.” chanyeol adds, his tone more serious.

“and i saw you buying condoms,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“okay, but you’ve never danced with me like that,” he says, a hint of jealousy in his voice that you are definitely not imagining. you scoff at his words and shake your head.

“we’ve never gone out together, and the one time we happened to be out at the same time, we’d just met and then fucked in your car.”

chanyeol gives you a look that makes your face fall, one that makes you want to ball your hands into fists. he rubs underneath his lip and glances down at his feet. “what?” you ask, daring him to say what’s on his mind.

“nothing,” he says, brushing you off. you stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t.

“i’m not like that,” you say, frowning.

“i know,” he lifts his eyes to you and your draw your bottom lip in. it’s gets silent again, and you wonder if this is a good moment for you to make your escape, but you don’t really want to.

“are you seeing anybody?”

“no,” his response sounds honest, but you don’t completely believe it because of what you saw.

“i saw you buying condoms, chanyeol,” you say, pressing your lips together. he rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.

“yeah, because i plan to practice safe sex in the future, y/n—whether that’s with you, or with somebody else,” your cheeks flush at his words and a knot forms in your stomach. you don’t know whether to be semi flattered, or gutted knowing that there will be others after you, like there were before you.

“well, we’re not having sex,” you declare, and chanyeol shrugs.

“that’s fine.”

it’s fine, but somehow you end up face-down-ass-up on his bed, his palm pressing on your tailbone to give you a deeper arch as he pounds into you. with every thrust into you, a desperate mewl leaves your mouth.

chanyeol has a right grip on your hips to keep you in place every time you try to run away from him. he yanks you back and tells you to stay with him, to take it because he knows you can, and you’re not used to me anymore? you only cry out his name in response, tears prickling in your eyes.

“fuck,” he spits when his shirt keeps getting in the way of seeing where you to connect, whenever he pushes into to you. his momentum barely falters as he puts the hem in between his teeth to keep the material out of the way. both of you aren’t even fully undressed, that’s how rushed it was; you’re still in your top and thong, the tiny material being pushed aside so he can enter you, and him his tshirt. it’s the first time—other than the night you met—that neither of you are fully bare, and you can’t tell if that’s a sign that he doesn’t deem you worthy of getting undressed, or if it’s a sign that you’re about to start over.

it’s also one of the few times he’s started with doggy first. chanyeol alwyas liked to look at you; always liked you on top of him or under him, but he liked to see your face the most. you don’t know if it’s a slight that he has you turned away from him, or if he just wanted to watch your ass move.

“ch-chanyeol—fuck!” tears stream down your cheeks and you grip the sheets tightly, trying to pull your body away from him but he yanks you back in place. you cry out his name and hate how desperate you sound, like you’ve never been fucked a day in your life. you bury your face into a pillow, but he rips that away from you too.

“wan’ hear you,” he mumbles, continuing to slam into you. you can only curse and clench around him in response, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter as he goes on with his mission to touch your spleen (at least that’s what it feels like).

“g-gonna c-cum,” you hiccup, whining out his name when he snakes an arm around your front and starts flicking on your clit. the stimulation makes you clench your eyes shut and tense around him, gasping before crying out his name as you gush all over him.

you expect him to stop, but he fucks you through it, never stopping his ministrations on your clit. “please, yeol!” you beg, feeling your legs start to shake as another wave of deep pleasure comes over you.

“you can do it, baby,” he grunts, running a hand up your back before gently pressing down on your spine. the pet name makes you whine dramatically and release once again, white liquid running down your thighs.

he finally pulls out when you beg him again, feeling too hot and overstimulated. you crumple onto the bed and roll onto your back, trying to regain your breath. you hear chanyeol shift next to you and then he taps you on the knee. “you alright?” he asks.

“give me a minute,” you croak, licking your dry lips. your body feels like you’re running a fever, and you sit up to pull off your top before flopping back down.

chanyeol gives you a literal minute before tapping you again. “are you gonna be okay?”

“yes, i’m just so fucking hot right now,” you say, blowing air into your face.

“you wanna take a break?” he asks and you crack an eye open to look at him. his shirt is off and his dick is still hard in the condom. you take his comment as a challenge, being that he’s never asked if you’ve needed a break before. maybe he thinks you can’t handle it and have gone soft on him, but you’ll show him otherwise.

“no. come here,” you say with authority. he obliged and crawls on top of you. you pull him down to your mouth and make out with him, hooking a leg over his back. chanyeol kisses down your jaw and to your neck before kissing down through the valley of your breasts. he pulls back and looks down at you, pulling at your bra strap and letting it snap back against you.

“you’re matching,” he comments, glancing down at your underwear. busted.

“so?” you say, reaching for him.

“you said we weren’t having sex,” chanyeol points out, making you let out an exasperated sigh paired with an eye roll. “you wore a thong.”

“i always wear thongs.”

“and we always fuck.”

you roll your eyes again and sit up to take your bra off, tossing it close to his head on purpose. “just shut up and fuck me,” you say, pushing down your underwear. chanyeol pulls it down the rest of the way for you and wastes no more time positioning himself in between your legs.

“y/n,” he groans when he pushes in, tossing his head back. you mouth falls open and you let out s few breathless pants. “shit.” he grunts, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. you can only stare up at him with wide eyes, clenching right around him like he didn’t just fuck you so hard you felt like you needed an ice bath to recover.

chanyeol pulls in and out of you slowly, trying to hold back from coming too soon. you can see it in his face, the concentration, and it clicks for you. he can’t handle looking at you while he fucks you because he’ll finish too fast. your sex in the past was never quick, but the effort of restraint he’s putting in is something you haven’t seen.

“y-yeol,” you moan, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. but he just presses against your lips, his breath fanning your mouth. “faster.” you mumble, tangling a hand in his hair.

he whimpers and pushes himself up on his arms and speeds up just enough to keep himself under control, but you still want more. “more,” you urge, wanting to watch him fall apart because of you, even if you don’t get off before or with him.

“baby,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he gives you what you ask for. your cry out his name and part your legs wider for him. you lift one onto his shoulder and hook it around the nape of his neck to pull him closer to you, a grunt leaving his lips. “y-y/n, im c-close,” he whimpers, holding onto your thigh that rests near his head.

“yeolie, you feel so good,” you manage, grabbing a handful of the sheets. his hips stutter and he lets out a groan before he cums, his muscles flexing.

you almost smile as he falls apart on top of you, especially knowing that it took looking at you to get there faster.

chanyeol pulls out of you and drops down onto the bed next to you. his chest heaves up and down rapidly and you push hair back from his forehead. “you didn’t come,” he mumbles, reaching out and putting a hand on your stomach.

“no,” you admit. ever the gentleman, he gets up and discards the condom before settling his face in between your legs to return the favor.

after what feels like an eternity, you two decide to give it a rest. “shower?” he asks you, sitting up on the bed. you nod, your inner thighs sticky from all of your shenanigans.

you follow chanyeol to the bathroom on shaky legs and latch yourself onto him once you’re under the water. your arms wrap around his middle and you rest your head against his chest, sighing into him. chanyeol places a kiss on your forehead and you nearly whimper, missing the domesticity of it all.

you two wash up and then he gives you some of his clothes to wear. you smile to yourself at him knowing that you weren’t going to leave so soon. he tells you he’s going to order takeout, since he doesn’t feel like cooking, and passes you his phone to choose what you want to eat.

it’s easy to fall into that old rhythm like no time has passed, and like you didn’t let this whole thing crumble right before you.

while you wait for the food, you ride him on the couch, and then after you eat he fucks you lazily on the counter. your body feels beat up and tired in the best way, and the familiar limp you start to walk with feels good again.

you wake up to the smell of food, your limbs sore as you stretch. the bed is empty next to you, and it takes you a moment to realize that this isn’t your bed or your house. the realization makes you bite your lip, and you slip out of his bed and make your way downstairs.

“good morning,” he greets when you walk into the kitchen, a smile on his face. you return it and he pulls you into him, placing a kiss on your lips that leaves you feeling dizzy and slightly confused, but you don’t say anything. instead, you accept the plate of food he hands you and go sit down at the table.

chanyeol sits down beside you and pulls your legs across his lap, and your fork stills in midair. it’s all overwhelmingly familiar, and you still have yet to discuss where your relationship stands after last night. it wasn’t just sex for you—it never is with chanyeol—and you don’t know if he feels the same way.

you let him talk through breakfast, your mind swimming with thoughts that wonder what this all means. you don’t know if he was just testing you out again, but you don’t think he’d allow you to sleep over, and then cook you breakfast in the morning. you feel lightheaded, like you just got flipped upside down one too many times.

“you alright? what’s on your mind?” his voice takes you out of your head where you feel yourself drowning. he raises his eyebrows at you and you wave your hands in the air vaguely.

“just… thinking,” you try.

“about?”

you let out a breath and scratch the back of your head, pulling your gaze away from him. “um, us,” you say. chanyeol sits back in his seat and clears his throat. “i dont… what does this mean for us? what are we?” you ask helplessy, finally looking at him. chanyeol opens his mouth but closes it almost as quickly.

“i dont know,” he answers. you slump in your chair because you have no idea either.

“well, what do you want?”

you can see the gears turning in his brain and him weighing each response. the tension builds in the room as you stare at him, waiting for his answer to see if it’ll align with yours. “well… i dont really know if i want a relationship right now,” your stomach drops and you blink once, twice. “i like what we did last night, though.” and without actually saying it, he wants you two to be friends with benefits. he wants you, but not all of the extra baggage.

“okay,” you say, discreetly wiping your face and swiping away the tears pooling in your eyes.

“yeah?” he asks, and you nod even though it’s far from what you want. you just want him, and you’ll take what you can get.

you hold back tears as he fucks you on his bed again, but not because it feels so good and like too much at the same time, but because he’s stomping on your heart and doesn’t even realize it. your heart can’t handle a FWBs situation with him since you’re already way into deep with him.

it becomes too much as you think about it, your mind not in the present moment of him thrusting into you. the tears start to fall, one by one, until you’re full on sobbing and covering your face. “w-what’s wrong? am i hurting you?”

“yes!” you cry, and he immediately gets off of you. you roll away from him and curl yourself into a ball, feeling disgusted with yourself that you were willing to let him use you in such a way, dangling your heart on a string in front of you.

“y/n, talk to me,” chanyeol says, putting a hand on your shoulder. you shrug him off like you did during your initial break up, and he feels like he’s getting deja vu again. “please, y/n. talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” his voice is full of concern because he knows there’s something else that’s really upsetting you.

“i cant do it,” you know you’ll probably lose him for good, but you’re willing to take that risk if you can’t have him the way that you want. you want him next to you in the mornings and calling you in the middle of his day. you don’t want to be a late night though, a booty call, to him. “i just can’t do it.”

chanyeol knows that you’re talking about your little agreement. he knew you’d end up backing out at some point, because he himself can’t even take it that seriously. he knows he’ll just wind up with feelings for you again since they never left.

“that’s okay,” he says, and he means it. your heart is heavy as you sit up and look over at him. chanyeols heart breaks to pieces when he looks into your eyes, feeling guilty for what he’s done. if only he could just confess and be honest about his feelings this time.

your goodbye is quiet and awful, and you feel like digging a hole and putting yourself in it the entire time. you leave feeling empty and hollow, and like you just got ran over by an eighteen wheeler. but hey, at least it wasn’t your fault this time.

#exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo smut #exo angst #exo fluff #chanyeol angst #chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol x you #chanyeol fic #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fluff

154 notes · View notes