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dairy-farmer · 4 months

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I once read a fic but now can’t find it where Sasuke time traveled into his child self and seduced Itachi and they ended up having sex and Itachi felt so guilty he killed himself. The bad ending sucks let’s change that.

I could totally see Tim doing that with one of his brothers but please a happy ending!

ohmy god ohmygod that fic sounds incredible!!!! and also something seems so oddly fitting for an emotionally and mentally traumatized person like sasuke to do. and for tim? it fits perfectly.

tim suffers a lot of loss as a result of becoming robin and he never quite stops losing things. even when he gets back bruce. steph, kon, and bart. their relationships are never the same. tim can never fully bring himself to forgive steph and eventually she grows resentful of his lack of trust. bruce drifts further not just from tim but all of them. kon and him just never have a chance to bounce back and same with bart. it hurt to know they outgrow each other. tim takes more hits and more losses.

he feels desperatly alone.

the distance between him and dick is the worst. tim wasn't angry anymore, didn't hurt anymore over the things they both said and did after they thought bruce died. but he's still never able to bridge that gap with dick. dick who had always been there who had been the steady prescense and older brother that took his side when bruce would get on his ass about something.

the loss of dick hurts the worst. even when he tries dick never sheds the bit of awkwardness around tim like he doesn't know how to act with him.

tim has nothing. has no one. so when he's fighting some villain that booster gold and flash had given a strict warning about, maybe he's not being as careful as he could be.

but it doesn't matter. because what was tim trying so hard for anyway. it's not like anyone would be waiting for him when he awoke in the medbay.

only tim doesn't wake up in the medbay, there's no heart monitor beeping in his ear, no triple filtered air or the scent of sanitizer in the nose.

when tim wakes up he's disoriented, blinking brings a wave of vertigo and turning on his side in case he has to vomit makes it worse. tim clenches the sheets under him in a white knuckle grip as the room spins, powering through the dizziness for what feels like hours until it stops.

tim is small. his voice is squeaky, it hasn't even dropped. his hands are soft and his body is a little pudgy from his love of vending machine snacks. he's in his dorm room. his old dorm room from when his parents would still ship him off to boarding school, before he'd spent weeks begging them to let him attend the local public school in gotham so he could begin his training as robin.

tim's uniform is hanging over his desk chair. his desk is littered with candy and snack wrappers and half finished homework. textbooks are lazily spread around the room and tim's old posters of punk and edgy celeberties he desperatly wanted to be were being held up by thumbtacks.

tim is certain it's a hallucination. a very good one. but as his socked feet sink into the pukey colored carpet and he follows the sound of the other boys on his floor banging on doors and then running away laughing when it's pulled open, he becomes less sure.

tim is trained to spot false realities b4ought on by illusion, drugs, or magic. tim didn't want to brag but he was the best at it. he held the unofficial record among the bats as being the fastest to break out of the effects of fear toxin.

tim was just good at knowing his own mind. and tim knew...there was no way his mind conjured this up. the detail, the realism. things tim had completely forgotten about come rushing back as his eyes landed on them.

fuck.

tim lets himself feel the horror, the devastation, the pain, and hopelessness of the situation he's found himself in for a minute. just a minute.

and then he gets to work.

tim was not like the other leaguers, the other heroes, the other people that had fucked around in time, blind to the consequences.

tim was different. he'd weighed the risks. he'd had a week where he'd been in a bad spot mentally and gone through...everything. it helped that he'd had use of an 'odds' calculator that weighed probability in a time line and had used it...just to see if what he suspected was true. it was. it hurt his feelings but it gave him the answers he'd needed to hear. tim hadn't kept that device around. he'd dismantled it and then dumped every piece in a different city around the country.

so tim knows what to do. even knowing what it will cost him he does it because...it was what was right. tim would never be able to forgive himself if he allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what was right.

bruce had never healed from losing jason. it had broken him in a way that he'd never healed from despite tim's best efforts and jason returning....angry and hateful had made it worse.

the charity sheila haywood worked for was easy to contact. tim used the computers in the lounge of his dormitory to gather the financial documents to submit an anonymous claim about her embezzling. prison would do her good. maybe she'd even clean up her act but tim doubted it.

odds that jason todd would never have died as robin had he not gone to ethiopia?? 78.9334%

tim wasn't sure how the math worked out but the fact that jason had been killed outside of gotham never sat right with him. jason had the home field advantage in gotham. no one knew that city like he did. there was no way the joker or anyone would have ever gotten the drop on him if he'd been in gotham.

and so tim saves jason's life and bruce's sanity with the click of a button.

the next thing tim does is submit crystal brown's resume to a number of nurse manager positions in new york. she's qualified and capable with the right experience as a trauma nurse. tim doesn't even have to lie or embellish anything but his years of working closely with the hiring managers at WE certainly help her stand out. crystal caught a lot of flack from stephanie. and tim understood why. her drug addiction, her determination to stick by arthur, stephanie's career criminal father, and the fact that she'd never really protected stephanie from the worst the world had to offer. stephanie had made no secret about her resentment toward sher father. but tim didn't think she even registered the bitterness she held toward her mother.

gotham was poison. and some people never built a resistance to it. gotham weighed crystal down. it made drugs too easy to get so she could never break the habit, it made every probation or release arthur got impossible to hide from because the gotham system tracked family down for convicts so they wouldn't be on the street or clogging up the shelters. the stress of her estranged husband's release stuck her in an ugly cycle of drug use. but she'd never stolen them from her job and that's why tim makes the right moves for her.

new york was unfamiliar but similar to gotham. she'd be cut off from her usual suppliers and out of state so the gotham correctional facility and arthur wouldn't be able to reach her. she'd get better, get sober, heal, do a better job of being a mother to her daughter. steph would never become spoiler. she'd probably never forgive him but if things went right they'd never cross paths.

no spoiler meant no war games, black mask would never beat her to death, darla would never die, babs would never lose her clocktower, the civilians caught in the cross fire would never fall to gang violence.

odds of stephanie brown never becoming spoiler if she left gotham? 89.0005%

with his parents it was harder. if jason lived tim would never be robin...but that didn't mean tim would be able to stop himself from being something else. he was a vigilante through and through. but being one was what had made his father a target. it was his fault he had died.

odds of janet and jack drake dying if their son is a vigilante? 93.3333%

there was no way around it. being near him was a death sentence. and tim couldn't do that to them. but he couldn't just leave. people would ask questions. his parents would be pained if he disappeared and he'd already caused them enough hurt. it's not hard to track down the...thing that lives in the Andes mountains. the thing he and young justice had found a long time ago and left alone because it hadn't hurt anyone who hadn't asked for it. the thing tim had never made a report on because there some things he didn't trust bruce with and bruce had been...unstable back then.

tim has enough money squirreled away for the plane ticket. it's an easy process. the thing doesn't want money, has no use for it. all tim feels is a pinch as his life strands to his parents are severed. tim's baby photos in the family album, his first tooth, his basssinett growing mold in the attic, his parents memory of him being born. it fizzles to nothing like a tablet of alka seltzer dissolved in a glass of water. tim figures he had a few weeks before the school realized an extra student was in the dorms which was why tim had moved his things and an extra bedmat to a storage closet in the school attic before leaving.

when tim returns its only a few days before he finds out his parents have returned to gotham to file for divorce. he'd always figured they'd only stayed together because of him. once they started going through assets they'd probably find out about phil marrin stealing from the company while they're overseas.

while the other students are at class tim uses the computers to finish up his final act. he roughly knew damian's movements at this time due to past conversations. all it takes is some waiting and letting the league tech division believe they've successfully knocked out the cameras of a target's mansion. he zooms in on stills of damian's uncovered face alongside talia and other league members and leaves them in an 'automated' file for the police. he tips off a crooked cop who sells the images to big newspapers and the 'assasins caught breaking into ex-dictator's home!' catches like wildfire.

bruce will be intrigued about the league slipping up and will see the image of damian who looks so much like he did as a child.

odds of damian wayne being accepted by the wider hero community if he'd been taken out of the league earlier? 62.9855%

odds of damian wayne leading a normal life if he'd been taken from the league earlier? 78.5488%

odds of damian wayne being happy if he'd been taken away from the league earlier? 99.9999%

in the end tim does it for the right reasons. he'd like to believe that if his brothers were in his shoes they'd have done the same for him as well.

cassie, bart, and kon would still have each other. cass would find barbara again. helena would find a way to make it in gotham with or without the bats.

they'd be fine. they'd be fine without tim there.

but tim still needed to figure out what to do.

he essentially didn't exist. he had no family. no friends. he was alone.

it's on the announcement of bruce wayne having a child he didn't know about that tim finally breaks down.

he's won. but he's lost. he's lost. he's lost so much and nobody knew. he was a stranger. nobody. he was alone. alone. alone.

tim's not sure how but he ends up in bludhaven. his whole world is packed in a small backpack as he rides the bus to an address he's memorized several times over.

dick doesn't know him, won't recognize him, may even get angry at this child he doesn't know clinging to him.

tim doesn't care.

dick arrives home, after nearly a month away in space, to the realization that someone's been squatting in his apartment.

it could be any number of things that set off his finely tuned senses but the clues were a few specific things.

all of dick's shoes being lined up neatly by the entrance rather than a haphazard pile. one of the lined-up shoes includes a pair of light-up sketchers.

the fact that his dishes were washed and put away but a single mug was on the drying rack still dripping water.

the recently vacuumed carpet that still had lines from where the mouth of the vacuum had passed over it.

the extra toothbrush in a little cup by his sink along with the newly opened bar of soap sitting on the rim of his bathtub that had been scrubbed so well alfred would be proud.

but the thing that really drives it all home is the kid he finds sleeping on his bed.

he's a tiny thing, curled around one of dick's pillows and wearing one of his police academy t-shirts as pajamas. one of the kid's socks has been kicked off in his sleep and he's drooling when dick drops his bag and clear his throat.

turns out the kid had been living in dick's apartment for a little over a week after he left.

the whole thing makes dick feel like the rug has been pulled out from under him. normally dick would be nicer, kinder, gentler about the whole situation because a kid squatting in a stranger's apartment didn't exactly spell good things about his home life.

but dick was tired and stressed and pissed the fuck off because bruce apparently had another kid this one bloodrelated and he hadn't even bothered to tell dick about it. just like with jason he was treating dick like he was some sort of leper.

so maybe dick raises his voice a little.

but the kid doesn't flinch.

he wants to negotiate, he's willing to pay if dick lets him stay. he's already proven he can clean, he can cook too, will dick let him stay? tim can sleep on the couch, do the laundry, buy groceries, he can be useful. just will dick please let him stay?

it makes dick feel bad. the way this kid is borderline begging not to be thrown on the streets.

he can't keep the kid. in no world is that the right move. because dick wasn't equipped to take care of a kid and his life was already enough of a wreck as it was.

so dick lies. tells the kid he agrees to let him stay.

in the morning dick will call a social worker about the whole thing.

dick wakes up to the scent of pancakes and scrambled eggs prepared by little hands. dick has a moment of panic over the whole 'unsupervised kid + stove' before remembering the kid had been cooking in dick's apartment for over a month without burning it down.

dick tries getting some answers out of the kid but getting him to open up is like pulling teeth.

all dick manages to learn is his name.

tim, no last name.

and his age.

10. though dick is pretty sure he's lying about it given the slight twitch of his finger as he says it. impressively the kid has no other tells which means he's either used to people taking his words at face value or he lies A LOT.

dick tries six times to call a social worker but keeps getting interrupted by one thing or another.

somehow rather than calling about the child in his apartment he ends up at a grocery store with tim picking up a new gallon of milk to replace the expired one in his fridge.

tim walks with an odd sort of confidence he isn't used to seeing in children. he holds coupons clipped from dick's newspaper in one hand and sternly holds up loaves of bread, observing them for dents or imperfections, in the other.

his voice is soft and babyish but he speaks with a 'you should take me seriously' tone. it's odd to see coupled with his cherubic face that's wearing a red l.l bean jacket and light-up superman sketchers.

dick carries the small basket of groceries for tim and wonders how he ended up in this situation. he resolves to leave a message to the office of social work in the morning.

he does not.

days pass with dick trying but his attempts keep getting cut off, if he didn't know any better he'd think tim was sabotaging him by running interference.

after awhile dick starts getting used to his tiny roommate.

it's hard to think of tim as a kid, sometimes dick completely forgets he is. if he didn't keep bumping into tim because he forgets to look down to see him it would completely slip his mind.

but tim's company is...nice. he's easy to get along with. he's not put off by dick's bouts of anger which always manages to make him feel ashamed afterward because tim not flinching at someone throwing things and yelling does not say good things about what he's experienced in his short life.

tim is quiet and collected but with a surprising wit that manages to catch dick off guard when they watch some reality TV shows that dick pretends to his friends and family that he doesn't love.

when dick gets ready to go out as nightwing he always checks on tim who is curled asleep on the couch, breathing soft and even.

things are normal, easy.

until dick gets clipped by a gun and stumbles into his bedroom bleeding. he barely manages to reach the bed before the pain knocks him out. he comes in and out of consciousness, eyes blinking at the haze as he feels soft hands strip him and gently feel around his wound.

in the morning dick wakes up on the couch. his side is wrapped tightly and packed with bandages. there's an emptied syringe of lidocaine and an emptied bottle of sterile woundwash. dick's forehead is sweaty but not with fever. his suit is gone and he's in a fresh pair of cotton boxers. he spots tim out of the corner of his eye staring at him. his hands are covered in comically big yellow cleaning gloves and his hair is tied back with one of dick's bandanas. the gray mop bucket holding red stained rags are visible inside the soapy water.

tim's eyes are too big for his face and filled with an almost childlike look that disappears everytime dick blinks.

"your mattress is ruined"

that's all tim says about the situation. despite the fact that he most likely stripped dick of his nightwing suit and patched him up, pretty well by dick's standards, and there again came that throbbing ache at tim's unknown upbringing.

tim knows he's nightwing and somehow it doesn't change anything at all.

if bruce knew a random civilian knew his identity he'd be lecturing dick's ear off. which is why he doesn't tell him about tim.

tim is steadily becoming a permanent addition to dick's side. once he knows about nightwing dick starts talking more about that part of himself. his friends, allies, the stress, the burden, the loneliness. and tim looks at him like he understands and...it feels...it feels like he's a kindred spirit.

dick is talking to tim like he's an equal, another lost and dumb as fuck twenty-year-old and that's a mistake.

the winter hits bludhaven and it's a brutal one. the cold seeps in through the windows and floorboards. dick finds tim shivering on the couch and all but drags him to his bed where he's plugged in the heated camping blanket roy had gotten him for christmas one year.

dick returns to his apartment exhausted and cold and curling up beside a nice warm timmy that's like a hot water bottle brings a sigh of relief to his mouth. the comfort and weight of another person beside him soothes some desperatly lonely part of him screaming for attention.

in the morning tim helps him fix his gear. a manual in one hand that he seems to breezing through while muttering about everything wrong with his gear and wouldn't it be be better if it did this instead of this. dick just pats his soft head and slides him his mug of orange juice while sipping at a warm cup of coffee tim had put out for him

dick grows comfortable with tim, lots his guard down in ways he never does with other people. tim understands him. tim gets him.

tim is 10 years old and dick has to remind himself of that when his eyes linger on the soft expanse of tim's thighs peeking out from dick's shirt.

the realization that his eyes had been lingering slam dick with a discomfort so thick he almost wants to throw up.

tim is a kid. a kid, no matter how much he might act older, no matter how much dick feels like he understands him.

he and tim have been living together for a few months. there's a routine to them. and so dick knows that something has changed.

tim's hands reach for him more, they linger, he presses closer to dick in bed and when they stand next to each other in the kitchen. he sits pressed up beside him on the couch when they watch TV, watch him with big eyes when he comes out of the shower in just a towel.

dick knows a crush when he sees one. he knows he should be putting space between them, not letting tim press his soft mouth to the side of his throat when they sleep. he knows he shouldn't let tim do those things. but he doesn't stop them.

he likes the attention, the affection. he needs it, is so starved for it and tim is the only one willing to give it to him.

dick knows it's wrong, knows he shouldn't.

but dick is so lonely. and he and tim whisper together in his bed at night sometimes. and one night they're pressed close, eye to eye, mouth to mouth and dick tells tim that he's happy he's here with dick. and tim inches forward closing that one millimeter distance between them and presses their lips together. and dick doesn't stop him.

tim's little palm cups his cheek, small fingers stroking the skin as dick starts kissing back. tim's hand works between them, warm and small and drifting into dick's pants. it doesn't take much for dick to get aroused and hard as tim pumps his cock like he's done it before. tim is only in dick's shirt and some underwear.

they slide deeper under the warm covers. tim's shirt dress comes off and so does dick's. his pants are pressed down enough to expose his cock as tim wiggles out of little cotton panties.

dick is guiding their actions, experience making him take the lead as he gently presses a finger into tim's little cunt.

tim makes soft noises, whines, little moans as dick grunts and presses the fat head of his cock in, littering tim's chin and neck with reassuring kisses.

dick slides in with some resistance. the cunt around him twitches, hips under his palms writhe, tim whines in his ear.

dick is gentle, careful fucking tim. he works more and more of his cock in until he can slide all the way into tim in a single thrust.

he and tim fuck under the covers for what feel like hours. tim cums a few times around him. voice weakly gasping out his name while his cunt clenches around him. riding out his orgasm. dick cums too after awhile, the build up slow and satisfying as he lets out an 'mmn mnn' sound against tim's little tits.

dick cums deep inside, cum flooding into a little womb as his entire body clenches and tenses up.

the arousal and brain melting feeling lasts about two minutes before realizes what he's done to the small bodied child underneath him.

dick barely makes it to the bathroom before throwing up.

he's crying- sobbing actually, into the toilet when a soft hand touches his shoulder and dick half leaps out of his own skin.

he tries telling tim to get away from him for his own good but the words come out slurred and rough.

tim doesn't listen and comes closer, gentle hands touching dick's limbs and saying it was okay, that tim wanted it, that he liked it, he wasn't afraid of dick.

tim helps dick brush his teeth and guides him back to bed and dick, aching for someone to comfort him and tim doing just that follows him.

in the morning dick is miserable, self hating, and sick.

he fucked a kid. god he fucked tim.

the kid who'd been living with him, who trusted him, who had a misguided crush on him and dick had taken advantage of that.

he was a monster. he was worse than the people out on the streets who tugged kids into alleyways, at least they didn't mess with a kids mind and think they wanted it like he did tim.

tim who thought he needed to earn his place at dick's apartment. god what if the sex had been tim's idea of thanking dick for housing him?

dick could recall how tim had worked his hips back against dick, fucking down on the cock that pressed into him- that kind of move only happened with experience.

god. the thought that he hadn't been the first person to do this to tim made him sick. he'd found tim squatting in his apartment afterall, how many times had tim done that before meeting dick and how many times had people made him paying that way.

dick feels the bile climbing up his throat again as tim comes to sit beside him.

dick doesn't know what to say, what to do. he knows tim can't stay with him any longer. not after what he's done.

tim protests.

"do you think people not there won't do worse to me? I want to stay with you, i trust you."

"i raped you." dick replies quietly, weakly.

tim purses his lips.

"i wanted it."

suddenly dick feels anger and grief in equal measure come racing forward.

"you're ten years old! you can't want this! i'm the grown creep that took advantage of you! i didn't push you away even though I knew what you were doing!"

tim stares at him.

"you're still a good person dick."

a cry bursts out of dick.

"good people don't fuck children."

and there's no way around that. no changing or justifying it. that's what dick did.

"i haven't been a kid in a long time. i'm different, im...something else. but i'm not a kid."

and the thing is that dick believes him. nothing about tim screams child. he's just...tim.

tim is staring at him with those bug blue eyes. his pretty pink mouth parted. dick's shirt is hanging off his shoulder.

he's staring at tim like his eyes have the answers to the universe as he asks, "do you want me?".

the 'yes' in dick's mind is certain. he wants tim, he wants tim with him, sleeping beside him, he wants to bump into tim in the halls and wakeup to his cooking, come home from the police academy to his dinner.

but dick's body, his mind is telling him no. he can't have tim, not like this. it's wrong. it's not right. it's disgusting. he's disgusting-

but tim's palm is warm and reassuring. and tim looks so certain and sure it's like he can't see anything wrong with dick giving in.

tim always knows what he's doing. what to say. it's like he's so perfectly at peace and knows he can change anything unfavorable at the drop of a hat.

it makes dick feel...safe. safe in the way that dick used to feel when he saw batman as an untouchable man that the world couldn't reach.

so when tim asks dick to let him take care of everything, that it will be okay, that no one but them has to know about this.

tim's hands are as soft as his voice and dick leans in closer for comfort. and with his head pressed to a child's chest and little palms stroking his hair- dick agrees.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #dicktim

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im-just-sal · 1 year

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Demon Slayer Highschool AU(ish) Head Canons

Uzui totally seems like a popular playboy in high school.

With Rengoku being his best friend and only nice popular kid.

Giyu's the weird bad boy Rengoku is friends with and no one knows why.

Muichiro's the kid in the younger grade they took pity on because he had no friends.

Shinobu is the nerdy chemistry expert who's popular because a lot of boys like her.

Mutsuri is one of the popular guys exes, but nobody can remember who's, but she's in the group anyway.

Iguro is the weird kid who brags about his pet snakes and thinks he's cool for wearing bandages. He repeatedly gets told off by teachers, and is a wanna be bad boy. Misturi loves him anyway.

Gyomei is a senior, and he doesn't play any sports. No one can remember how he got popular, he just did.

If the hashira are popular kids, what are Tanjiro and his squad?

They're BAND kids.

Tanjiro plays Trumpet.

Zenitsu was passed down his grandfather's tuba and hates it so much.

Nezuko plays the xylophone .

Yushiro has spent his whole life mastering instruments, and he plays the flute for band, but loves playing piano.

Kanao plays the drums in the back. Little effort needed.

And Inosukes on triangle.

So Tanjiro I imagine has an amazing singing voice.

He's the best at it.

Zenitsu sounds like a dying cat.

Inosuke is surprising good, but he mostly listens to death metal, so he scream sings.

Nezuko doesn't sing, but she'll do a little Dancy dance to any song she hears.

Uzui thinks he's the hot shit at it, but he's not. He's average.

Rengoku cannot sing. He doesn't try. He knows his voice sounds awful.

Muichiro doesn't really sing, but he can. He's okay at it, but if he's doing karaoke he's going all out on that demi Lovato high note.

He'll hit it even higher.

Iguro is good at singing, but he'll sing my chemical romance until even Misturi wants to rip out her eardrums.

Shinobu thinks she's good, but she's just fine at it. Nothing special.

Mitsuri's voice sounds like nightcore singing.

Gyomei opera sings in the shower and that's it.

And Sanemi has a raspy ass voice that cracks if he tries to hit any note higher than the bass.

Yushiro sings to himself in his room. He also sings in the shower, but do not tell anyone.

He performs Call me maybe.

Lady Tamayo has recorded it.

He has no idea this recording exists.

Zenistu also sings in the shower.

Buts it's the take cover shut your ears kind.

He thinks he is the HOT SHIT.

He made Yushiros ears bleed.

Tanjiro had to literally yank the shower curtain back to get him to stop.

But then he screamed for the next hour so it was a lose lose.

Believe me, he was searching for bleach for hours.

Inosuke hid it tho because he wanted Tanjiro to suffer.

After Zenistu got out of the shower Yushiro punted him to next week.

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d3rpydoods · 2 years

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God, this dragged out since school started and the artistic motivation was SUCKED out of my body. Anyway-

Some extra lore for the AU i'm not making since a couple of people asked about Mac's role. I thought about these three outcomes as intersting concepts that could all work - quick disclaimer though these three versions of Mac are all separate entities and have nothing to do with each other (ok the third COULD be a possible outcome of the first but i'll leave it to you guys for interpretation)

Boxer!Mac (left)

Another pro boxer trying to get to the top

Wukong's rival (to no one's surprise)

They always compete, in and out of the ring

they have equal amounts of wins and losses IN the ring though so they're always waiting for the next opportunity to whoop each other's asses

Also bragging rights

Lots of banter but still on decent terms

Even helps train MK when Pigsy or Wukong can't

Teaches Bai He self-defense

Kickboxer!Mac (middle)

Not even in the same martial art as Wukong but the competition's still going strong

They're at the top of their respective sport

They always banter over which martial art is the superior one

"What's wrong, Peaches? Scared I might kick your face in?"

"Bold of you to think you'd get THAT far, Plum, I'd finish you off in one punch!"

They still train together, and even though it's against the official rules in both cases they use their tails as well (it's just for shits n gigs tho, to up the challenge)

Sometimes it looks more like babies fighting in a playpen than actual professionals duking it out in the ring

Those videos are MK's most priced posessions

Former Boxer!Mac (ANGST)

Mac used to be a boxer

He and Wukong only managed to meet in the ring for the championship belt twice, the first time it was a tie and the second one resulted in his current state

During this fight, it was clear to Wukong that Mac was gonna win and out of desperation Wukong broke the rules, used his tail, tripped Mac so he fell and landed with his full weight on his foot and injured his leg

This resulted in Wukong getting severe penalties - not only would he pay for the damages/compensation but he was also banned from participating in boxing for years + his reputation was destroyed

Mac, on the other hand, was rushed to the hospital where he'd spent at least a couple of weeks healing

He didn't take it well when the doctors told him he'd no longer be able to step into the ring

And it took multiple doctors to hold him back when Wukong showed up to check up on him and apologize

Yeah, he didn't take it well

They haven't talked since

He talks to MK though + Bai He helps him out wherever she can

MK wish they'd reconcile

Wukong wish they'd reconcile

Should've thought of that earlier huh

"Reconcile? It's too late for that, MK, he made up his mind when he broke the rules - I guess our friendship wasn't worth more than a belt and a fancy title"

#tadaaaaaaa #my questionable creations #lmk #lego monkie kid #six eared macaque #sun wukong #liu er mihou #lmk macaque #monkey king #lmk sun wukong #lmk mk #lmk bai he

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1kook · 4 years

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

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rabbitcrimes · 3 years

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The Untamed Characters and Can They Parallel Park

Jiang Wanyin: is absolutely convinced he can, results vary. Reliably bumps into the front of the car behind him. The car will get parked but he has to complain a minimum of seventeen times. Somehow gets a ticket literally Every Time there is street cleaning

Wei Wuxian: another bitch who is convinced they can parallel park. Does not have his drivers license but drives anyway. Refuses to even try if the space isn’t two car lengths long and then is like :) I did it did everyone see my parallel park :)

Lan Wangji: there is no catch, Lan Wangji can absolutely Parallel Park. Is weirdly aggressive about shoehorning his stupid little Prius into spots he can only Just fit into. It can take up to ten minutes but no one is allowed to say anything about it.

Jiang Yanli: she Can ABSOLUTELY parallel park. Does not brag about it, has never accidentally hit the car in front of or behind her even once.

Wen Chao: private parking garage ass bitch

Nie Huaisang: Can secretly parallel park but lets everyone believe he doesn’t know how to drive so he never has to be the designated driver or get asked to pick people up from the airport

Jin Ling: Tried once, failed, cried about it. Again I do not blame him for this, this is also how it went when I tried to learn how to drive stick

Wen Qing: Going to use ‘Can’ very liberally here. Yes Wen Qing ‘can’ parallel park but she will only correct twice. If god wanted the car to fit perfectly into the spot maybe she should have made parallel parking easier

Wen Ning: Definitely doesn’t know how to parallel park but doesn’t have a complex about it. This is a boy who takes the bus and always thanks the bus driver

Lan Sizhui: Jin Ling makes him park his car whenever they go anywhere. To be clear it takes Lan Sizhui 6 mortifying white knuckle minutes to complete this task but it’s better than the alternative

Lan Jingyi: Can parallel park with varying success, makes Sizhui crazy by playing it fast and loose with how close the car needs to be to the curb to be considered ‘parked’

Meng Yao: spent two weeks learning how to perfectly parallel park after someone vaguely insinuated that he didn’t seem like the type of bitch who could.

Nie Mingjue: Finally! A man who can parallel park in under ten minutes without being a fucking weirdo about it.

Jin Zixuan: you’re extremely mistaken if you think this bitch doesn’t just uber everywhere

Lan Xichen: walks and takes the train because it’s environmentally conscientious. Has never parallel parked but would probably be able to do it on his first try.

Xue Yang: failed his drivers test seven times before passing on the eighth on a technicality. Parks by reversing until he hits the car behind him, corrects until he hits the car in front of him, and then continues until he is somewhere approximating parked. His drivers side mirror is hanging on by duct tape and a wire. Where he’s going he doesn’t need mirrors. He has a bumper sticker that says “honk if you’re nasty” and seventeen empty McDonald’s bags in the back of his car.

Song Lan & Xiao Xingchen: these boys Can both parallel park like Normal People and at this point after all I’ve seen I’m willing to reward that behavior.

#the Untamed #mo dao su zhi #this all happened because of that stupid drivers license tik tok lmao #chen qing ling #if I am forgetting anyone important I apologize in advance #this was already deeply out of hand lol

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ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though, all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud.

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78

#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Note

request: an MC thats very good w playing games or like,,, is proficiently skilled in all game categories or smrhn

alsp hi xander i love ur writing

and can i giv u a kith? if so: mwah 😚

Well I hate to tell ya, sweetie, but I’m not Xander. I’m Jazzy. Hello! I can see why you’d want something written by Xander, though. He’s mad talented (better at this than I am quite frankly) and he’s on the list of people I wish I could write as well as. I guess we can both take a moment to be sad that I’m not Xander… *sigh*... to be Xander… 😔

Oh well, I am who I am and I don’t begrudge that fact. Meanwhile, I’ve wanted to do more shout-outs so everybody go read @sevendeadlymorons! If you’re not… I mean… why not? He’s more than worth your time. In the meantime, I hope I can entertain you despite my not-Xanderness.

Brothers React to an MC Who’s Good at Games and Stuff

Lucifer

Honestly couldn’t care less about the MC’s game proficiency in most cases. So they’re good at games? Good for them, he’s sure they’re happy.

But when they’re playing against him on the other hand…

Well, Lucifer may or may not be skilled at whatever game you set him on (he’s a very quick learner so never underestimate him), but he’s whole new levels of competitive when he wants to be. ESPECIALLY if he already thinks he’s hot shit at something.

Video games? Not his forte. Table top games? One word for you: Chess.

Lucifer believes that he can and will whip pretty much anyone’s ass in chess. That includes Satan, Solomon, Levi, and even Diavolo. He is at grandmaster level.

So imagine his shock, no, his disdain to have lost a game of chess to the MC… The moment they said "Checkmate" he stared at the board in front of them for a solid five minutes trying to work out where he went wrong…

And he wasn’t having that.

He and the MC now have regular chess matches in which he wins some and loses some so the tally stays pretty evenly tied. Really it’s all good fun... (but if they think he’s going to let them go home when he’s on a losing count, they’re Dead. Wrong. He’ll drag them back to down just to play chess with him until the score is right again. He DOES NOT lose, you hear? 🤨).

Mammon

Guess who’s found his gambling buddy??

No, really. He and the MC can make a KILLING at a Poker or Blackjack table! He’s never seen anyone better at poker than they are!! They have nerves of steel and give nothing away, so he’s lost more than a few hands to them before...

Even past the casinos, they’re perfect for making bets on! He once arranged a Devil Cart competition between the MC and Levi and took bets around RAD for who’d win...

Naturally, everybody assumed the Devildom’s resident Super-Otaku would win hands down, but the MC had this insane last minute save with a blue shell and pulled ahead in the last lap!!

He was like, the only person that bet on the MC and he got soooo much money that MC found HIM crying and hugging a bag of Grimm after the match…

Any time they win a game that gets him money, he’ll treat them like royalty for the next week. Man knows not to bite the hand that feeds him!... and creditors at bay... 😬

It may get slightly annoying that Mammon won't stop telling them about gaming competitions where they can get him more prize money, but hey, at least he's supportive, I guess.

Leviathan

Oh they are either his best friend or mortal enemy… Sometimes both in the same day.

Our boy hates losing, can't stand it any better than Lucifer, you KNOW the second he knows there's someone out there who even has a chance of beating him, he gets serious. This is not a "friendly rivalry," MC.

When they’re playing any game against each other, he'll call them by their gamertag/online persona to keep himself focused (yes, even if they’re playing Monopoly). They can't be his MC right now, they gotta be the person he's going to beat...

He's NOT opposed to dirty tactics to win, either. Saying things that will get them mad or flustered mid-match? Check. Using his tail to distract or tease them? Check. Just being a general nuisance/annoyance in game for the hell of it? Guilty as charged!

He's both a sore winner AND a sore loser, so unfortunately MC, you really can't win here... He'll be obnoxious regardless of the outcome.

However… when they’re on the same team, it's really something special. They don't just destroy the competition, they bulldoze over them like an armored tank barreling through rush hour traffic!

These two are legends in the online gaming community and have even started a streaming channel on the side. Sometimes your worst enemies also make the best allies... Who knew? 🤷‍♀️

Satan

Is surprisingly impressed by their gaming prowess. Are they just supremely skilled or incredibly lucky, you think…?

That being said, he's not the biggest gaming man on the planet so he's not too competitive with them one way or the other.

When Satan plays a video game, he usually goes for story-based, single-person experiences anyway so it's not like he could compete with them even if he wanted to.

That being said, they do share an informal challenge of sorts when it comes to puzzle/detective games (a not so guilty pleasure of his). He likes to try and beat the levels first, so when they start playing a new one they'll both compare time spent and scores.

He even enjoys playing those Devildom-style AR murder mystery games with them! It’s pretty cute to watch Satan get into it, he dips into his inner Levi and cosplays as some of his favorite TV drama detectives for the occasion and insists they dress as his co-star (best just go along with him. It’s not a bad time, even if they have to carry around an old tobacco pipe for a few hours).

Asmodeus

Good at games? That sounds dangerously like they're another Levi… 🙄 What about party games? Oh oh, or drinking games??

Actually scratch that. How about ANY game while drunk? That sounds pretty fun doesn’t it??

Like Drunk Truth or Dare!! Oh that's a favorite of his… 🤭

To be fair to the MC, the booze does diminish their skills somewhat (because that's kind of what it does in general) but not by all that much… It's pretty impressive.

He once challenged them to a game of Drunk Twister figuring that they'd be too unsteady to actually win for once, but no. If anything, the alcohol must have numbed the stretching pains because they bent over him like a pretzel!

Not that he was complaining or anything… 😏

He likes to take the MC to parties where he knows a game or two will be played just to show off to the crowd and brag that they’re HIS lovely, talented human! You go, MC, beat that competition to a pulp! 😌

Beelzebub

Sports count as games too, right? Well, they aren't half bad at those either.

Beel found it surprising that he found a human who could actually keep up with him. His brothers rarely want to play practice games with him anyway so it’s pretty exciting to have a sports partner at home!

He likes to ask the MC to help him train with practice matches or to go over certain moves or maneuvers he’s having trouble with. It’s not uncommon for the brothers to come home and find the two of them tossing a ball around in the front yard or something.

And the both of them on the same team? Forget it. It takes the dream team of Lucifer and Mammon (who aren’t just arguing with each other for once) to even come close to a challenge for them.

He also enjoys playing the occasional video game with them, though he treats it a lot like playing with Levi and just assumes he’ll never win unless he gets lucky - which does happen from time to time.

He doesn’t mind losing that much as long as he’s having fun, and if nothing else he can always win against them in an eating contest… He’s got those on lockdown. Come at’em MC, he’ll pack away an entire fridge before you’re done with your first plate. Try him.

Belphegor

So Belphie enjoys a good game or two - video-based or otherwise - it comes with the lazy-bastard territory. He may not be as skilled as Levi, but he can hold his own in some genres.

But he’s given up on beating the MC looong ago.

Do you know how much practice it would take? How many hours that he would have to use?? The hours where he could be napping instead??? Yeah, no thanks. They can continue to be the reigning Super Smash Devils champion for all he cares.

Buuuut even he has to admit, it’s pretty relaxing to watch the MC play something in the background... There’s a certain sort of satisfaction to watching someone who’s good at a game just play it straight through.

If they’re set up in Levi’s room or the Common area then Belphie may come over, set his pillow up on the floor, and watch them play. He may even throw in a comment or two like, “You missed a health pack,” or “Better save now,” but other than that he likes to just let them do their thing.

The MC has had many an all-nighter with Belphie spectating until about 4am or so. Then he’s dead to the world and they have to work out how to get his not-exactly-light demon ass onto a couch…

Or they can just leave him faceplanted and snoring on the floor. Up to them, really cause he did it to himself. 🤷‍♀️

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me requests #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 22:

You closed your phone, rolling your eyes at his words.

You were a floor down from Bakugou’s hospital room, currently stood in front of the vending machine. After your collective screaming match, you’d quickly realized just how hungry you were. Apparently, arguing and yelling so much works up one hell of an appetite- who knew? So now here you were, standing in front of the machine, holding a wad of horribly crinkled money Bakugou had insistently and unwaveringly shoved at you on your way out.

Originally, you had fully intended to pay for your own snacks. You’d even sneakily tried to grab your wallet as you left, but apparently that didn’t work. He saw you, because of course he did. So, waffling over it for just barely another second, you put your own money away. You knew Bakugou wasn’t bluffing- or probably wasn’t. It wouldn’t surprise you at all if he truly did know how expensive the vending machine was, down to the very last cent of each item. He was weird like that.

You shrugged, if he wanted you to use his money so badly than you weren’t gonna pick at fight over it. You selected a bag of chips for yourself, and the gross-looking health bar Bakugou had requested- because apparently, even while already uncomfortable and injured, Bakugou didn’t have an easy time giving himself a break.

When you walked back, entering the hospital room once more, Bakugou wasn’t alone. You couldn’t tell what surprised you more- the three police officers crowding his bed, or the man standing off to the side. A man with hair so obviously fake and stop-sign red that it nearly nauseated you.

You weren’t sure how to proceed, whether or not you were even supposed to be hearing this conversation, but you didn’t have to flounder for long. The red-haired man saw you almost immediately and began making his way over.

“Hey! How’s it going? I’m so sorry, but Dynamite’s actually not taking visitors right now!” He says, says brightly. Then he’s spinning you around and pushing at your shoulders lightly to get you moving out the door. “My name’s Kirishima though, and I can totally, totally, help you back downstairs to wait with the other civilians!”

“No, but I-” You start, your feet barely able to move as fast as Kirishima is dragging you along. “I have to-”

“Yeah, I get it! And that’s so totally nice of you to want to thank him, super, super nice,” Kirishima interrupts you, leading you down the hallway. “But he’s real busy talking to the police right now so-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m his soulmate!” You pull your wrist out of his light grip, halting. “My name’s Y/n L/n.”

“Wait-” Kirishima stops in his tracks, suddenly spinning around to face you. “How do you know that name?”

“Oh my god-” You huff in frustration, shaking Kirishima’s hands off you. “You sound just like Bakugou. It’s- that’s my name- like, my actual name, okay! How else would I know it if it wasn’t me?”

A beat of silence as you watch his eyes widen.

“So you’re really her?” He says in disbelief.

“Yes! Obviously,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing through your irritation. “Now would you knock it off and let me go back to his room? I get it- you’re like, security, or whatever, but I’m not a civilian and I-”

“He’s gonna kill me.” Kirishima pales in front of you, suddenly grabbing your wrist again and pulling you fast in the direction of Bakugou’s room. “Oh god, he’s gonna kill me.”

“W-what? Why?” You stumble, nearly falling into his back. “Hey! Slow down!”

“Because I totally manhandled you out the door- god, that was so not manly of me!” He breathes out quickly, but he listens and drops your wrist, slowing down to a pace you could keep up with. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I thought you were a civilian, you know? They’ve been crawling all over the waiting room since I got here, sneakin’ up and trying to thank him, and I thought you were one of ‘em.”

“Thank him? For what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Um- no?”

It’s hits you then that you didn’t really know why Bakugou was in the hospital in the first place. Only that he was ‘held up’ and then hurt and had been absent for the last two weeks. You wanted to smack yourself in the face. You’d spent the entire afternoon yelling and arguing with him and absolutely not asking the important questions. Well- you did ask some questions, but not enough. Apparently.

“Wow, figures. You know, that’s just like our guy Bakugou! Always talkin’ so much but still never bragging about all the actual cool shit he pulls off.” Kirishima rubs the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment. “C’mon, lets hurry back. I really don’t think he’d be too happy if I was the one who told ya everything.”

You have a million and one questions sitting on your tongue but quickly decide you’d much rather ask Bakugou than the man standing in front of you. You pick up your pace, finally once again in front of Room 427. When you enter, the police are leaving, all three of them walking past you on their way out.

“Hey! Shitty Hair!” Bakugou seems to ignore you, instead choosing to yell, loudly, at Kirishima. “Who the fuck gave you permission to go around draggin’ her like that? I fuckin’ saw you, you imbecile!”

“Hey!” The red-head whines, hands out and placating. “How was I supposed to know? You didn’t say anything, man! I didn’t know, okay?”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, you dumbass, I’m not gonna let you just fuckin-” Bakugou starts, but then he whips his head around toward you, eyes catching yours. “Oi- Idiot. What the hell are you standin’ around in the doorway like that for, hah? Look stupid as shit.”

“Bakugou!” Kirishima seems appalled, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “You can’t talk to her like that! She’s-”

“Perfectly fucking capable of defending herself, thank you very much.” You snark, walking towards Bakugou and tossing the health bar at him lightly. He doesn’t expect it and you watch as it hits him squarely in the chest. You smile. “Real nice catch, angry man.”

“Woulda fuckin’ caught it if I was in top shape.” He grumbles, but then he’s smirking and opening the snack just the same. “Anyways- yeah, that’s Shitty Hair. Sorry he fuckin’ sucks.”

You clasp a hand over your as a laugh escapes. Kirishima doesn’t seem to think it’s nearly as funny as you do, and you watch as his face seizes.

“Hey, man! What the hell!”

“You deserve it, bitch! Shouldn’t a fuckin’ grabbed her like that and dragged her wherever the fuck.” Bakugou shrugs. “If you don’t wanna be told you suck, then don’t fuckin’ suck! It’s easy as shit- even for a clown like you.”

Kirishima just groans, hands beginning to wave emphatically. “Do you even know how many people I stopped from walking in here? I did it for you, man!”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Bakugou barks, taking a bite of the health bar. He chews for all of a second, before talking through a mouthful of food. “You should fuckin’ leave.”

“What? Why do I-” Kirishima pauses a second, blinks, looks at you, and then a smirk begins to tug at his lips. “Oh, I get it! Totally manly, Bakugou! It’s because of h-”

“No!” Bakugou defends, his cheeks reddening slightly. “It’s- fuckin’ police, shitty hair! Told ‘em to wait outside. They wanna talk to your dumbass- They have more idiotic fuckin’ questions about after I passed out.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Kirishima nods, moving towards the door. “You want me to come back later?”

“No.” Bakugou growls.

That, you notice, strangely doesn’t seem to make Kirishima upset? He instead smiles brightly at Bakugou, giving him a thumbs up, and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

It’s suddenly quiet in the room, but you don’t let it last long. You’ve got answers to pry out of your soulmate.

“So- heard you passed out, angry man.” You state simply, dropping once again in the chair next to his bedside. “When’d that happen?”

“Few days ago. Been here since then.”

You roll your eyes at his short answer. Leave it up to Bakugou to tell you only what you literally asked for and absolutely nothing else.

“Okay. But how? Where?” You ask. “What about before then?”

Bakugou huffs at all your questions, but then he’d nodding and answering all the same.

“Had to fuckin’ save this man from hittin’ the ground real hard so I took all the impact. Hit my head or something, when I hit the ground, and I broke a bunch of shitty bones. Guess I was out a few days, and then I woke up here. Then I fuckin’ called you or whatever.”

“You- you took a fall? That knocked you out? For days?” You gasped. “How goddamn far was the fall? Jesus!”

“Four stories.” Bakugou says, and the uneffected, factual way he says it makes your blood go cold. “My fault. Shoulda been faster but I was already fuckin’ weak from bein’ captured.”

“Captured?”

“Yeah. Went undercover and tried to infiltrate this villian lair, and the fuckin’ stupid group of villians lumped me in with a bunch of other hostages.” He grunted. “I tried to blow ‘em all the fuck up, once I realized, but they had this absolute bitch, with a stupid fuckin’ siren quirk! Sang a bunch of shitty, annoying, fuckin’ songs that paralyzed me. Couldn’t do a damn thing! For over a week!”

“O-okay.” You nodded shakily. “Then what happened? How’d you get out?”

“Fuckin’ didnt. Just sat there, stuck on my ass, kept barely alive by that stupid bitch and her henchman!” Bakugou barked, hands clenching into fists. “Then shitty hair and a few other fuckers came and knocked her out- they stayed to fight the rest of the other villians or whatever but I was still too fuckin’ weak to fight so I rounded up the other hostages.”

“So you fell saving one of them?”

“Yeah. Stupid kid stayed to watch the fight, like a complete fuckin’ idiot, and got blasted by a villian out the window.” Bakugou flushes, averting his eyes. “I jumped out after him. To save him or whatever.”

You nod, very minutely smiling as you looked at his flushing face.

You were proud of him.

He might’ve been bad- had done bad in the past, but it seemed like that wasn’t all Bakugou was. He had good in him. A lot of good. He nearly finished himself off saving an innocent after all- that had to a least make him some sort of a hero.

“Well- okay....That all- that all sounds fucking horrifying, but I get it. It’s your job, right?” You sigh. “I’m just glad you made it out alive. I was really scared, you know?”

“Hah? Scared? Now why the fuck would ya go and do something stupid like that?”

“Because you weren’t answering me!”

“I told you I’d be gone!” Bakugou defends, before pulling out his phone. “Look! Fuckin’ sent ya the texts and everything!”

“You said a few days! Not 2 fucking we-“ You paused. “Wait. Why did you say a few days in the first place?”

“Knew it was gonna be fuckin’ dangerous when I left, so, you know,” He averted his eyes, voice coming out low and guilty. “Was supposed to be incase I got hurt. And was fuckin’ out or something. So you wouldn’t wor-“

“Worry?” You groaned, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “It didn’t- I was worried! I thought something happened! Or worse I thought that-“

“Worse? Fuck you mean, shitty woman? What the fuck stupid conclusion did you come to that’s worse than dyin’?”

“Bakugou,” You huffed, your shoulders sagging. “I thought maybe, that maybe you wouldn’t tell me anything because you were a bad guy- a bad villian.”

Bakugou’s face crumples. His angry eyebrows fall and his puffed out cheeks deflate, and his mouth closes tip-lipped and tense over sharp teeth. He looks devastated. “It- I didn’t-“ He struggles and you’ve never heard his voice sound so small before. “Y-you don’t think that, right? Now?”

“No!” You try to recover, hands out and assuring. “It’s- after the video, maybe? I did, b-but not now! Not now.”

He doesn’t say anything- won’t meet your eyes.

“Look, Bakugou,” You clear your throat. “I only know you as you are now, not who you were before. And I think- I think that maybe, now you’re almost a different person than before. So that’s why it was a shock. To see you like that. To see you so hateful.”

You duck your head, just barely catching his eyes before he averts them again.

“But that’s not you anymore? Right? You’re not that guy. So it’s okay. We’re okay.” You sigh. “Will you look at me? Please?”

He doesn’t, just continues fiddling with the thin blankets trapped between his shaking fingers.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” You ask, tone pleading. “I feel like, maybe, if I didn’t have to find out like tha-“

“Woulda been the same. ‘S always the same.” He interrupts, voice barely there. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t- because it would’ve- there would’ve- you fuckin’ wouldn’t-“

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and sitting still for a few moments.

“You wouldn’ta kept fuckin’ talking to me.” He admits. He looks so small in that moment that it nearly breaks you. “Didn’t wanna- I didn’t wanna wait all my life, have this fuckin’ tattoo for so long and still have nothing because I was stupid.”

You pause, the breath knocked out of your chest.

“What- I- how long have you had your tattoo?”

Bakugou lifts his head, finally looking at you. He looks bewildered. Scared, even.

“My whole fuckin’ life- didn’t you?”

“No!” You cried desperately. “I told you, remember? Over text, the first time I talked to you! The day my tattoo appeared!”

“You were serious about that shit?” His voice is utter disbelief, eyebrows creasing together. “I thought- I thought-“

“What?”

“It’s- it’s not the first time somebody has gotten my number and told me they’re my fuckin’ soulmate. So I didn’t think it was real- thought you were jokin’ or somethi-“

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not- don’t,” He stutters, blushing just a bit. “Being a pro-hero, people always say weird shit to me for fame. So I’ve gotten that before- a fuckin’ random text saying they’re my soulmate.”

“What?” You ask, voice offended. “Who- why- I don’t get it-“

“Every hero gets ‘em- even one’s that don’t even have a fuckin’ soulmate.” Bakugou says. “I guess maybe they just text everybody or some shit- I don’t know? Didn’t matter to me I always jus’ blocked ‘em.”

You could hardly believe your ears, feeling winded as you brought a hand to your chest.

Bakugou had a tattoo- your name for his entire life.

He’d know about you his entire life.

Had been waiting on you for his entire life.

“Why- why’d you believe me?” You ask quietly. “If you didn’t believe the others, why me?”

“Ya told me your name.” He pulls aside his hospital gown, exposing the writing on his ribcage. “It’s- if ya didn’t, I wouldn’ta believed you.”

On his side, just under the last rib, is your name. It’s a simple tattoo- small, but it’s there, and in your handwriting.

“That’s my name.” You say dumbly.

“Obviously, sunshine.” He sort of laughs, something a little sad but a little happy too. “Only been waitin’ my entire life for your dumb ass.”

“Why didn’t you look for me?” You can’t help but ask, pressing your against against your suddenly stinging eyes. “If you knew- why?”

Bakugou goes quiet again, dropping his hospital gown back down. His tattoo is covered, but that doesn’t matter to you, you couldn’t forget the look of it if you tried.

It’s a long few moments before Bakugou speaks again.

“It wouldn’t- I wasn’t ready-“ His voice is low, quiet, the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard it be. “Before now- I wouldn’t have been good. For you.”

He sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed.

“Think- I think maybe that’s why yours didn’t come in ‘till now. Wouldn’t of fuckin’ worked before.”

When you pull your palms away from your eyes, it’s like you’re seeing him again for the very first time.

It’s strange- the way your heart seems to be breaking entirely and rebuilding itself completely all at the same time. It’s a wave crashing against your ribs- pushing and pulling and tumbling and pushing and pulling and turning and twisting and- calming when you look at his face. When you look at the way his hair sits and the way his jaw slopes and the way his eyes meet yours. It’s death and completetion and rebirth and red, red wildfire.

It’s your old life scorching and curling and burning up. And it’s your new, better, warmer life rising from the ashes.

“God, I’m so fucking glad I said my name.” You gasp, tears freely falling from your eyes.

Bakugou smiles, so soft and warm and fond. “I know idiot.”

You just laugh at the name, choking on tears and snot and emotion, but you’re smiling. You’re smiling and smiling and it feels like you’re never gonna stop smiling. Will never have to again.

Because he’s him and you’re you and finally- finally, you’re together.

It takes a long while for you to calm down, for your tears to stop falling. But when you finally do, when you finally feel okay, Bakugou’s already looking at you.

So how long are ya plannin’ to fuckin’ stay, idiot?”

“Huh?” You shook your head, tears still drying on your cheeks. “I literally- but- but no- I- D-do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Bakugou groans in frustration. “That’s not- can’t ya just listen to the words I say without fuckin’ readin’ into them all the time?”

“Yes?” You say unsurely, but then your shoulders drop and you sigh. “Actually no. Probably not, sorry I-”

“I told you not to fuckin’ apologize, remember?”

“Yeah,” You say sadly. “But it’s not exactly that easy.”

The room is quiet again, and Bakugou is smoothing out his hospital gown, fidgeting with the tie on the side. He looks nervous, his cheeks red, and his voice comes out quiet and strained when he speaks.

“If- if I gotta work on me not screamin’ and bein’ angry all the time then you gotta stop apologizin’ and worryin’ so goddamn much.” He takes a deep breath, finally turning to look at you but only to just barely make eye contact. “It-we can fuckin’ do it together or whatever. Idiot.”

You blink, almost shaking your head in disbelief. Bakugou was sitting in front of you, blushing and grimacing and had just said something borderline sweet? Out loud? To you? You huff half a laugh when you look at him once more, at his intense eyebrows and his red cheeks and his pinched expression. He looked constipated. Like saying the words physically pained him.

You soulmate was an utter drama queen, a certifiable child- and you just found it adorable.

“Okay,” You wiped your final tears away, leaned forward on your elbows. Your chest hits the side of his hospital bed, and, extending your hand, you meet his eyes. “Pinky swear on it, then?”

“What? No! You makin’ fun of me? That’s- that’s-” Bakugou growls, but then he sees the hopeful look in your eyes. You watch as his irritated expression melts away and he grumbles as he extends his own hand. “Fine. Whatever.”

When you loop your pinky around his, pulling his arm until it lies flush against yours, you think it feels right. To be that close to him. To be touching him at all, really. You wonder if it’ll always feel like that- if the completeness you feel will ever fade.

You hope it doesn’t.

You think Bakugou must feel it too, his eyes focused on the way your skin meets. Something guarded in his gaze softens, almost minutely, but you don’t miss it.

“Happy?” He suddenly says. He waves your connected hands in the air, but makes no move to shake free from your grip. “Feel all fuckin’ better now, idiot?”

“Much.” You smile something small and tender. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

Pop.

You yank your hand back in surprise, jumping slightly at the tiny zap you’d just felt on your pinky. It didn’t hurt, didn’t feel like much really- If you had to compare it, it was very similar to tiny, electro-static shocks you’d felt before when touching carpet.

“Did- did you?”

“No!” He yells, hand still left in the air. “I didn’t so fuckin’ shut up about it- it was nothing! You didn’t feel anything! Nothing happened! It didn’t happen! I-”

Mid way through his rant, Bakugou grabs at you hand, awkwardly jabbing his fingers into your palm before he finally just laces then through yours. He continues like he didn’t, though, not taking a single breath between his words.

“-And even if I did- which I didn’t- it’s your fuckin fault! So just- so just shut up about it already!” He huffs, absolutely red in the face as he averts his eyes. He grumbles. “Idiot.”

You just smile, giving his hand a squeeze.

Bakugou won’t look at you, his eyes trained on quite literally anything else, but you think you seem him smile too. Something small, and unsure, and barely there- just the tiniest hint of his lip curling up.

He squeezes back.

--//--

hope u all enjoy,, luv u!!

#bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bakugou imagine #bakugou series #bakugou x self insert #mha soulmate au #soulmate au

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junowritings · 3 years

Note

how about before being isekai'ed to NRC mc was a vigilante? like a mix of daredevil and batman or like deadpool and red hood? imagining mc using martial arts or macgyvering unassuming everyday objects into weapons to defeat overblots instead of magic seem cool, the funniest scenario, mc using a wooden spoon, a slipper or even if you watched icarly a butter sock to hit and defeat an opponent would be hilarious

Honestly I love the idea of this scenario! Part of me always kind of wished with the overblots is that the MC would get involved somehow - I know it’d be dangerous, but who doesn’t love going a lil feral at some overblot monsters lmao ------

It’s like something straight out of a comic book. Sure, the same thing could be said about your situation - a self-made vigilante fighting to protect those close to you from idiots who think they’re smart enough to cause anything other than trouble - but getting straight up isekai’ed into another universe full of magic and fairy tale rewrites really takes the cake of weird situations you’ve gotten roped into. Guys in masks? You’ve seen them in abundance back home, so while the ‘extravagant’ nature of the headmaster is weird, it doesn’t really phase you. Being surrounded by a bunch of confused boys with vividly bright hair (and do some of those guys have razor teeth? You really don’t wanna find out if they do) and having a talking cat ranting your ear off about becoming the greatest wizard of all time...that’s around the time you figure out this isn’t just some elaborate kidnapping plot.

Being shacked up in this new world isn’t as bad a deal as you thought it would be, though going from physical fights every other week to just having to worry about classes was...an experience, to say the least, and takes a bit of getting used to in terms of putting your guard down. It isn’t long during your stay at Night Raven college that you start garnering attention too, and not just because of the circumstances surrounding your enrollment. Your way of dealing with things is a lot more physical than many of them used to; when Ace had first come to Ramshackle after being collared by Riddle, instead of asking what it was or what he’d done, you’d instead just sat him down and spent the better part of half an hour picking the lock. Granted, it wasn’t enough to crack Riddle’s magic, but Ace is pretty sure he heard something click open while you fiddled with the keyhole - and that was just a speck of some of your skills.

The physical prowess and litheness that comes from your ‘profession’ were valuable assets back in your homeworld, and while you’re not there anymore you’re still able to make use of them in this world, or you try to, at least. It makes for a hell of an entertaining sight during Ashton’s classes - you’ve just about knocked everyone in your class on their ass at least once (both intentionally and unintentionally). It’s been useful getting to lessons too, though you’ve spooked more than a few of your fellow classmates when they’ve caught you scaling the side of the building to skip the stairs and make it to class on time. You’ll never forget the shriek Ace let out when you dove through the window, skidded across the floor, and slid seamlessly into your seat right before the professor came through the door. Things like that have earned you more than a few skeptical looks, but it’s also led to more than a few people coming up to you to ask how you do it.

Just because you’re in a school setting doesn’t mean you slack off on your training. If anything, it means you have to train all the more to make sure you’re not growing rusty - you’re not about to get left in the dust just because all of these guys have wands and this ‘unique magic’ business at their disposal. That being said the lack of a fighting partner makes things difficult; when you first get settled into Ramshackle you find plenty of furniture beyond repair that you’ve been able to use, and with everything being such a cluttered mess it makes for the perfect obstacle course as you fight to clean it all up. But you’re missing your training buddies, and as much as Grim gets on your case about you being his subordinate, you’re not about to get expelled for fighting your magical feline housemate...not just yet, anyway. You do look around for some sparring partners though, and you find some pretty damn good ones in the process. Deuce is one of the first, being quite the fighter in the past, but given that it’s a skill he hasn’t actively trained it doesn’t take long for you to - quite literally - sweep his feet out from under him. Jack’s fairy competent too thanks to all of the muscle, so sparring with those two at once has given you something to bond over after school. As you got to know more students, you found a pretty good training buddy in Rook - you guess being a hunter has its perks, and isn’t that far off from being a vigilante, but it gives you one hell of a lesson to avoid getting on his bad side.

They’ve seen you make impromptu weapons out of things before - you just about took Floyd’s head off with a spatula when he’d rushed through the door unannounced, and Grim keeps finding the ends of the kitchen’s wooden utensils sharpened to a point when he sneaks down for late night snacks. You’re guessing old habits die hard, and it's tricky business completely stopping some of your more bizarre daily tasks.

Looks like those same skills come in handy when the overblots happen however! It’s not as though anyone gives you a crash course on magic overuse and overblotting, so when you see Riddle transform and watch that huge, tank of a thing start forming up behind him you have what you’d like to call, a reasonable reaction. The boys are preparing to fight their overblotted friend when a tea cake stand comes sailing overhead and nails the being behind Riddle directly in the face - or pot, you guess.

The thing is at least physical, which means you can hit it, and your friends are too preoccupied with Riddle to stop you from barging into the fray with just about every impromptu weapon you can get your hands on. Plates, cups, shoes, amongst other things shower the air as you close the distance, and at one point you end up hoisting up one of the garden chairs and swinging it up at the jar head until you have enough momentum to let go. The sound of shattering glass has you letting out a triumphant holler as you backtrack to avoid the spew of ink that spatters across the floor, cracks fanning out across the inkpot‘s surface as its hands fly up to its broken ‘face’ and it howls as though appalled by your audacity.

Whether that actually has a hand in finishing the fight or not, it isn’t long after that the overblot incident passes and Riddle collapses; however, that’s not before you get a couple more hits in, just about bringing the overblot to its knees by the time it finally dissipates for good. Once the Heartslabyul dorm leader is back on his feet and led away to rest and recover somewhere less demolished, that’s when the attention is focused back on you.

There’s more than a few comments about you getting involved in the fight when you have no magic - some comments are admonishing, telling you to be more careful and to not be so reckless; others however are more than a little intrigued by the turnout. Ace just about knocks you over when he claps his hands onto your shoulders and demands to know how the hell you learned to move like that, and Grim is more than a little puffed up bragging about how of course his lackey would be so useful. It catches you off guard - you’re so used to just doing this in your day-to-day life that having someone admonish or praise you is...nice, in a way. It reminds you of when you first took up the vigilante mantle, and you find yourself brimming with excitement at the thought. If they think what you did then was neat, just wait till you tell them about all of your escapades in your home world! You’ve got enough to keep em hooked for days.

#coffee-or-hot-cocoa #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #imagines #headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanon #twst headcanons #twst deuce #twst ace #deuce spade #ace trappola #grim #twst grim #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #request #ask

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tokimihyachi · 3 years

Note

which BC boys would be the most romantic vs who is the most low key in their relationships?

warnings: none

notes: can i just have them in real life? please? 🥺 they’re all SO FRICKING BOYFRIEND MATERIAL THAT IT HURTS THAT THEY AREN’T REAL AT ALL 😭🤚 Anyways, here you go fellow simp! 😼

WILLIAM VANGEANCE

lowkey but not ashamed of it.

he’s still captain of thr Golden Dawn so some distance is still needed in public

still, he has no problems with hand holding, but sometimes when the sun is up in the sky just right and then the light hits the features of your face: he’s gonna short circuit

literally squeezes his chest area sometimes because of his heart beating loudly

the only reason he doesn’t hang around you much out in public is because he blushes a lot around you

the captain of the mighty golden dawn is reduced to nothing but a bumbling mess beside you? YES

when people belittle your capabilities, he’s not afraid to speak up for you

a true gentleman

one time, the two of you were out for a date, but half of the day was spent on him helping others out

he’d feel sorry and guilty, but you would assure him that any time spent with him is always special

he would melt on the spot after you said that

behind closed doors is a very different william

he’s big baby and just craves for attention

of course, who can resist this soft boi so you give him all the love he wants

YAMI SUKEHIRO

this man has no shame, at all.

no use laying low with this person as your partner

he likes to brag to everyone that he got himself such a great partner

would drag you to go drinking with him (if you’re ok with that)

(if you’d allow him) he’d teach you how to gamble, and the two of you would be broke together

during the first time you met jack when the two of you drank at their favorite place, he kept showing off every little thing about you

he even told jack that one time when you saved his ass from a good whooping because people misunderstood his approaches

but if you’re a shy introvert then he’ll really try to get you out of your comfort zone and allow you to try new things

with his guidance, of course

he’s not one with pda but he loves it when you run a hand through his hair at night before going to sleep

likes to stare at you when you’re asleep

don’t mind him, he’s just very happy that someone still loves him despite his flaws and imperfections

FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

like william, he’s lowkey with his relationship and prefers it as something more intimate.

but if you initiate per se hand holding out in public as the two of you are strolling the base, he’ll gladly intertwine your fingers together

he has a habit of randomly kissing the back of your hand while he works or does paperwork

as much as he can, he’d keep you away from mereo and leo during he first few months of your relationship (he’s just scared of your reaction at their hyperness)

but if you happen to meet them at an earlier phase, he’d just be relieved because you don’t mind their noise

when the two of you are out for a dinner date, expect expensive things here and there

he would be the sweetest during dates; pulling your chair for you, asking your opinion about the food, prepared a list of things to talk about, wipes the utensils (even though their clean) before you eat, and is overall an amazing person to dine with

appreciates it when you brush his hair in the morning after a nice warm bath

he always says you’re the perferct “wife/husband material” to assure you that everything you do for him is appreciated

NOZEL SILVA

a great pretender in public that he dislikes affection

honestly, you believe that this man deserves an oscar for best actor

he would always reject your advances

whenever you would pout and become sad because of this, his look would always soften

but he doesn’t let that get to him

he likes staring at you (weird xjchdsj jkjk)

nozel’s very smitten, but he doesn’t show it too much because he only wants the two of you to know that

oh, but when he’s jealous? whoever the person who’s making him feel this way better run and hide or else they’d receive death glares enough for them to freeze on the spot

expect that person to be out of the silver eagles/or any squad for a few weeks because someone reported them

when it’s just the two of you and you avoid him because of what he’s done, he’ll smile to himself

a big spoon

loves peppering you with kisses

spoils you with everything you want

likes to hold you close at night because he’s afraid you’re gone the moment he wakes up (still traumatized by the death of his momma so you gotta hug him tight)

#black clover #william vangeance #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #black clover headcanons #william #nozel #yami sukehiro #fuegoleon #yami

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cassanovancats · 3 years

Text

herding cats

becoming nekoma's manager

You really didn’t want to be here. Here being Tokyo, here being Nerima ward and, most importantly, here being the hallway of your new school. The uniform is itchy and you’re being dragged along by some student council member because, apparently, first years can’t be trusted to walk around themselves.

He was nice enough, though he certainly seemed more excited to show you around when he got a look at you. Then he got more excited when he found out your mom’s occupation was what brought you to Nekoma High halfway through your first-year. “So, what’s it like having a famous mom?”

Your eyes darted to the side instinctively. What kind of question is that? How are you supposed to answer? Like having a mom except you get asked things like that. “Uh, fine. She’s really not that cool.” Especially for moving you so late into the school year because her animation studio decided working distantly wasn’t working. “I get spoilers sometimes.” It’s exactly what he wants to hear.

You can hear the next question already, so you cut him off before he gets a chance to ask about the upcoming episode of the anime your mother was working on. “Ah, it seems we made it to the classroom. Thank you for helping me, Senpai.” You bow half heartedly and knock on the door before he gets a chance to respond.

This is exactly what you told your mother would happen. Even as you introduce yourself to the class, there’s a few people who instantly recognize your last name. Those students turn to whisper or pass notes and you know by lunch, you’ll be crowded by people hoping to become your friend purely for bragging rights. The teacher seems tuned to your inner angst, as she gracefully directs you to a seat in the back of the class, where you can watch instead of be watched.

The first subject of your people-watching is next to you - the one person who did not look up as you introduced yourself. A curtain of dark hair kept you from seeing any details of his face (and you can only tell it’s a he because of the uniform). What you can see is the screen of his handheld console and the bright features of one of your favorite games.

Which is why, during break, instead of making eye contact with any of the students striving to talk to you, you turn to him to complain about the latest update.

congrats, you befriended a wild kenma!

he’s the first person you’ve met in a while who doesn’t care about what your mom does, or how much money you have

he literally only cares about your ability to hard carry a team through a dungeon

a few weeks go by, with you basically just coming to school, talking to Kenma, and going home

until the student counselor comes to you and says you have to join a club

even though it’s the end of the year - some policy to ensure you have a club going into next year

“I hate this,” your complaint comes out severely muffled thanks to how you buried your face into folded arms. Kenma gives a noncommittal hum.

“Are you going to finish that?”

You glare at him but still shove the snack closer to his desk. One hand breaks away from his controller to snatch it, before it gets glued back to his PSP. “I’m serious - if one more club tries recruiting me, I’ll scream.”

He answers, sparing a side-glance towards you. The only hint he actually is listening. “Just warn me when that happens.” You groan and go back to your folded arms. It’s been hard to make friends despite people seeming desperate to be your friend. Well, that’s the problem, you think. You don’t particularly want friends who are planning what questions to ask before even greeting you, you want friends like Kenma who can treat you like a normal person.

Minutes before break ends, the president of the Anime Club approaches for the third time this week. “Hello, (l/n)-san. Have you thought any more about joining our club?”

You feel bad for the instinctive grimace. Really, she’s quite nice. It’s just an anime club is the last place you wish to be. Before you can find another polite way to let her down, Kenma interrupts. “Sorry, Sato-san. (y/n) is joining the volleyball club.”

“I am?” You can’t help but question. He shoots you a look, slighting narrowing his eyes.

“She’ll be meeting the captain at today’s practice.”

Sato-san tilts her head suspiciously but doesn’t press. “I hope to still see you around, (l/n)-san,” she says before flouncing off. You take a moment to reorient yourself.

“I am?”

Kenma sighs, saving his game and shoving the console into his bag. “Yeah, you are. Don’t worry, Kuroo will just be glad a girl is there. Coach Nekomata won’t decline help either.”

You blink at him. “Are you aware the only rules I know about volleyball is to not let the ball hit the ground and to only use your hands?”

“The last one isn’t true.”

“Do you see my point, then?”

yes he does, but he simply chooses to ignore you

it…. does not go well

Kuroo was awkward around you, which turned into a mischievousness when he realized Kenma was the one who brought you in

he kept insinuating you and Kenma were dating which like… no you were just a girl (space) friend

Yaku and Kai were normal-ish though Yaku straight-up asked if your mom was the (l/n)

he let it drop after confirmation at least

then… there was the students in your year

Kenma hovered near you, feeling responsible for putting you in a situation nearly identical to what Kuroo did to him

Yamamoto seemed flustered by your presence and also irritated that Kenma already was your friend

Fukunaga just kinda waved and went back to practicing

it took a while for everyone to get over their initial awkwardness, mostly being helped by having to constantly explain what was happening

but the time spent together meant you quickly found friends

friends who, similar to Kenma, dgaf about anything besides your personality and ability to quickly refill water bottles

Maybe you should have realized sooner what joining the volleyball club entailed. It’s not like you ever really participated in an organized sport though, so these summer practices were kicking your ass. The early morning and heat.... You felt pity for your boys; at least you weren’t having to run. Speaking of, the new members of your team just rounded the last bend.

“Come on, babies,” Kuroo cups his hands over his mouth to ‘encourage’ the first-years. “Even (y/n) could beat that!”

“Don’t say that; Lev’s gonna wanna see it!” you hiss, hitting his side.

Speaking of, the giant, silver puppy heads straight to you. After introductions, his upperclassmen quickly understood Lev required a, well, firm hand. Something you lacked which made you the target of his affections. “Woahh, (y/n)-senpai must be fast! Why don’t you actually play any sports?”

Yaku’s eyes level a harsh glare on him, “Are you trying to insult our manager?”

Shibayama steps forward, saving Lev from having to repeat his run. “I am curious why you chose to be a volleyball manager. No offense, but… you don’t seem to care about the sport.”

“Ah, none taken,” you easily wave off his concern. “Volleyball’s cool enough, but you’re right that I’m not passionate about it in the same way as others on the team. I mostly joined because of Kenma, actually.”

The first-years felt confused. How could their quiet, cat-senpai pull in one of the most popular girls in school? Even last year, when they were in Nekoma's middle-school, they had heard rumors of you. When you joined the volleyball club, even teachers started giving the once-golden club attention again. It was how the club received funding to travel to Miyagi next week. (In addition to a large donation from your mom, who was overjoyed you actually made friends.)

“He was my first and only friend at Nekoma for a long time,” you explain. Lev gasps dramatically. It seems impossible to imagine you without lines of admirers. “It doesn’t matter now since everyone in the club is my friend! Take your bottles and get in the gym; we need to talk about the logistics of going to that camp with Karasuno.”

the ones who stay behind are upset </3 cough cough lev

you’re pretty surprised you do get to go

but you’re excited - from what you understand it’s a rural area and you’ve been in Tokyo your entire life

maybe you'll even see a cow!

except you get there, walk a few feet and then notice Kenma is missing

excitement: ruined

Kuroo panics while repeating that he is not panicking

then you both get a text that’s just “in a playground”

when you find him, you scold him on talking to strangers

anyways the rest of the day is spent familiarizing yourself with the gyms and rooms

you run into Kiyoko while preparing dinner for your team

she explains she’s the only other manager at the camp, but she won’t be staying with you

You’re a lil upset bc sleepover ruined but it seems weird to complain about getting your own room and bath

(you still spend most of the time in the team’s room because it got really lonely without your boys :( )

the next morning, the day of the actual match, you get to wear your Official Manager Clothes

which is really just the track jacket, but it makes you feel cool

meeting karasuno is,,, interesting

you’re starting to think you’ll never find a normal volleyball player

From the corner of your eye, you spot Yamamoto attempting to intimidate some Karasuno players. With a sigh, you go to fetch him.

“Tora-kun, can you please help me bring in some supplies? They’re too heavy,” you whine. It’s you’re tried and true method to keeping him on a leash. If he’s helping you, he’s with the team.

Except you don’t just get his attention, you also get the attention of the boy he was staring down. Tanka startles at your sudden appearance behind Yamamoto and loses the harshness in his face. “G-girl-”

You make eye contact with Kenma who looks amused. He ignores your plead for help. Yamamoto takes the opportunity to flaunt you. “This is (y/n). Talk to her and you’ll learn how much pain a volleyball can inflict.” As he finishes his threat, he gets distracted by Kiyoko’s appearance over Tanka’s shoulder.

You decide it’s a lost cause and subtly inch away until you’re walking with Kiyoko. The boys are unable to hear what you’re talking about, but both stare dumbfounded as the only two girls in the entire camp gossip and laugh. Tanka and Yamamoto share a look; maybe there’s something shared between the two they didn’t see before.

“Is your idiot always like that?”

“Yeah, I assume that’s normal for your team too?”

#cass.writes #manager!reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #female!reader #nekoma #also lots of info from the wiki #so pls don’t jump me if it’s wrong

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pod95 · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Finn Balor X reader

Word Count: 2152

Warnings: Smutt (implied)

Description: A/n you and your best friend Becky Lynch are sharing a hotel room together, but when her boyfriend Seth Rollins sneaks in, you are left with no choice but to sleep in his room with the guy you hate, Finn Balor.

A/N This is part of a series of one shots I am doing. You can read this and the others on my Wattpad, AO3 and FanFiction pages.

Room Swap

"Name please," the receptionist asked as you searched through your purse for your ID.

"Y/l/n. It should be a twin room."

"Ah yes, here you are," she turned to the board behind and picked out a key card. You're in room 412."

"Thanks!" you take the key card off of her and return to Becky, who was waiting with your luggage in the lobby.

"Everything all sorted, roomie?" Becky asked, thumbing through a magazine.

"Yeah I can't wait. Ever since you got with Seth we never get to bunk together. It's gonna be like old times!"

"I just hope you're ready for a wild night of stuffing our faces with room service and bingeing bad horror movies," she winked and giggled.

"Ooft sounds like a hot date," you teased her.

"Speaking of hot..." Becky gestured to the lobby entrance where her boyfriend Seth Rollins was bringing in his luggage. He made his way over to you and beamed when he saw Becky.

"Damn, you're beautiful. Can I get your number?" he teased.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend. He's super buff and macho and could probably kick your ass," she retorted, planting a loving kiss on his cheek. Seth wrapped his arms around her waist as you smiled at how happy you were that your friend found someone who truly loved her.

"Are you sure you wanna spend the night with y/n? I mean I love Finn but we could have a LOT of fun in a room together..." Seth cooed, kissing Beckys neck.

"Hey, Rollins! Stop making moves on my woman. You get every other night with her. Go near her, and I'll chop that dick off!" you threatened playfully.

"Fine, Jeez!" he laughed, "We really need to get you a boyfriend."

You shuddered at the words. You had been secretly seeing someone, but broke it off a couple of weeks ago and you were starting to lose hope of ever finding a decent guy.

"You know, Finn is still single..." Becky prompted.

"Ugh no way!" you retched, "not even if he was the last man on Earth."

"Finn's a great guy! I really don't get why you hate him so much..." Seth shook his head.

"Where do I start? He's cocky and narcissistic, he thinks he's God's gift to women, he's always bragging about how many girls he's been with. Yeah sure, he's hot, but he knows it. Besides, he's a jerk to me whenever we're together."

"Y/n, you haven't even given him a chance. I reckon if you spent some time alone with him, you'd see all the good parts of him!" Seth enthused.

"He wears very tight trunks in the ring, I've already seen WAY more parts of him than I'm comfortable with."

"Aww, y/n, I'm flattered you spend your free time thinking about me in tight trunks!" came an Irish accent from behind you. You groaned internally.

"I wouldn't be... You missed the part where I called you cocky and narcissistic." you jeered, smirking at Finn.

"It's not cocky if you can back it up love," he winked, and you hated yourself for finding him so attractive.

"Right, sure. Guys like you are all talk."

"Oh one night alone with me, and you'd never want to leave," he went to brush a hair from your face, giggling mischievously as you swatted it away. "I could prove it to you tonight if you want."

"Oh my god, why are all the men in my life trying to ruin our night together? Go find some other woman to disappoint, Balor! She's mine tonight," Becky scolded him. "Y/n, we should go to our room before these Jackasses get in the way."

Becky stood up, kissed Seth affectionately and grabbed her luggage. You followed her leave, grabbing your things and saying goodbye to Seth.

"What no goodbye kiss for me?" Finn hollered is you set off towards the elevator, cackling at the middle finger you were now responding with.

When you got to the room, Becky kicked her shoes off and dove onto a bed. You changed into a tank top and some leggings as she looked through the room service menu.

"I'm gonna get some lobster. What do you want?"

"Ooh very fancy. I'll have the same."

You spent the evening pigging out on fancy room service and making fun of terrible movies before eventually feeling too tired to stay awake and nodding off halfway through the second movie.

Just as you'd fallen asleep, you were awoken by a noise. You weren't sure what it was at first, it sounded kind of wet. Then you heard a soft moan coming from the bed next to you and you looked over to see a huge lump under the covers of Beckys bed. Groaning, you turned your bedside lamp on.

"Really guys? I'm trying to sleep here..." you protested.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n. I'll just go." a naked Seth peeked out from under the covers, his hair messy and his voice breathless.

"No, it's fine just... Give me your key card. I'll sleep in your room."

"Really? Sure, it's in my pants. Thanks y/n, you're the best." Seth said, before retreating back under the covers, much to the delight of a giggling Becky.

You hastily retrieved the key card (room 426) from his discarded pants and made your escape.

As you stormed down the hall to where Seth and Finn were staying, you muttered under your breath. You knew that Becky and Seth were a couple, but do they have no boundaries? You arrived at room 426 and knocked on the door. Despite having the key, you didn't want to just barge into the room unannounced.

A shirtless Finn opened the door. He blinked in surprise upon seeing you, before smiling cockily.

"I see you decided to take me up on my offer earlier," he purred, leaning coolly against the doorframe.

"No chance in hell. Seth and Becky are 'getting busy', and as close as we are, I REALLY don't wanna see her O face so... Seth said I could crash here. Sorry to disappoint you," you shoved past, struggling to keep your eyes off of his impressive torso.

"Alright but I should warn you... I sleep naked," Finn beamed at you, amused by the look of horror that crossed your face.

"Whatever just... You stay in your bed, I'll stay in mine and we should get through the night without me beating you to death!" you smiled sweetly back at him.

"Oh come on. I'm just messing with you," he chuckled, grabbing a towel from the wardrobe. "I'm gonna take a shower, TV remote is there. Make yourself at home."

Finn disappeared into the bathroom and shortly after, you heard the gushing of the shower. For a moment, you imagined the water cascading down Finn's abs and trickling down his body. Disgusted with yourself for imagining such things, you shook the thought from your mind and turned on the TV.

Eventually, Finn emerged from the shower, and you were surprised to see him wearing a pair of shorts and a vest. You stared at him for a moment, still confused.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, snapping you out of your stupor.

"No! Not at all... You're just such a playboy, I'm surprised you're wearing actual clothes and not a towel that's far too small for you," you challenged him, secretly disappointed by the reality.

"Contrary to what you might think about me, I'm not a sex pest. I may be cocky and full of myself, but I'm not gonna go out of my way to make you uncomfortable." annoyed, Finn collapsed into his bed, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"Finn... I'm sorry. I'm being a jerk. Honestly, thanks for letting me stay here. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well... You can buy me pizza. I like pepperoni and stuffed crust please!" He grinned cheekily and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Pizza, for Mr Abs? What about all those carbs?" you teased him, picking up the menu from the desk.

"Well, you really upset me and now I'm eating my feelings," Finn pouted adorably at you, giggling when you threw a pillow at him.

You and Finn went back and forth teasing each other until the pizza arrived, when Finn jumped up excitedly and rushed to the door to collect it.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Finn asked, sitting at the end of his bed and tucking into his Pizza.

"Sure," you started flicking through the movie channels. "Oooh, Toy Story!"

You lay back, occasionally eyeing up Finns pizza. Your stomach gave you away and let out a thunderous growl, as you held a pillow over it, trying to muffle the sound.

"Do you want some?" Finn tempted you, patting an empty space on the bed next to him. Nodding enthusiastically, you accepted the invitation and grabbed a slice.

The room fell quiet apart from the sound of you and Finn happily tucking in to the pizza.

"So are you feeling any better?" Finn asked, grabbing another slice.

"Better? What do you mean?"

"Well you seemed angry earlier. It must be frustrating never getting to see Becky," Finn prompted, giving you a look of genuine sympathy. You were surprised that he had picked up on it. You usually had a bad attitude around him anyway, so it was impressive that he could tell you were more upset than usual.

"I was at first, but I get it. They're a couple, they wanna spend time together. If I had a boyfriend, I'd be the same, " you confessed.

"So what happened with that guy you were seeing?" Finn asked, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh that didn't go anywhere. Wait, how did you know about that?"

"Oh... I guess... Becky might have mentioned it..." Finn stammered, unusually flustered.

"Becky didn't know..." you eyed him suspiciously. Finn paused, thinking for a moment before sighing.

"OK fine..." he shuffled nervously. "A couple of weeks ago, I was outside your locker room and I heard you on the phone to him."

"And why exactly were you lurking outside my locker room, Mr Balor?" you teased him, amused by this vulnerable version of Finn.

"Well, I was planning on asking you to dinner," he quickly reverted back to his usual, charismatic self.

Speechless and somewhat embarrassed, you grabbed another slice of pizza and continued watching the movie. You're cheeks felt hot, and you could still feel Finns eyes on you. But even so, you couldn't help but feel surprised by how comfortable you were around Finn.

After several minutes, you dared to glance back at him. The glance escalated, and soon you found yourself examining his features in great detail. He really was incredibly attractive. Your attention moved from his dark hair towards his mesmerising blue eyes, twinkling with delight as he watched the movie, down his strong cheekbones to where an adorable, boyish smile perfectly complimented the rest of his face. As he turned towards you and caught you staring, every instinct told you to avert your eyes, but you just couldn't.

His eyes locked onto yours, holding your gaze as you felt your heart rate increasing. He smirked, pleased with himself for having caught you staring at him. Unblinking, he looked you up and down, licking his lips seductively. Bashful, you turned away, not wanting him to see you blush. Finn reached out a hand to stroke your reddening cheek.

Your skin tingled, as you nuzzled against his hand. Finn let out a low, victorious chuckle and cupped your other cheek in his hand, turning it to face him. You stared at his lips for just a moment before closing the distance between your face and his, stopping just before his lips. You closed your eyes, smiled to yourself, and pressed your lips to his. It was gentle and nervous at first, but as your hunger for him grew, the kiss became more passionate. You let out a small moan when he gently nibbled your lower lip. He pulled away, breathless, eyeing you intensely.

"If this goes much further... I won't be able to stop myself. Are you OK with that?" Finn asked, stroking your cheek. You nodded, never breaking eye contact. Finn smiled roguishly.

"Perfect." Finn grinned, tangling his fingers in your hair and devouring your lips, as you made a silent reminder to thank Seth and Becky

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and if you want a part 2 at some point in the future 😊

#fergal devitt #fergal devitt x reader #finn balor #finn balor fanfiction #finn balor fic #wwe smut #finn balor imagine #finn balor one shot #finn balor x reader #finn balor x reader smut

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sevendeadlymorons · 3 years

Note

Hey I’m that one anon from a while back that sent those long ass paragraphs about Lilith and Simeon, remember me? Anyway I know I’m very late to the party, but some of the boys are either getting to much hate or too much love over here (in my opinion) so I made a pros and cons list for all of them, I’m sorry- (I’m warning you now this will be long but I’ll put it in bullet points so it’s a bit easier to read, just read it whenever your mentally ready lol)

Lucifer (I hate this man.)

Pros

He’d help a lot with getting your life together wether that be finding a job, choosing the right college or other shit like that

He’d make sure your working hard and getting everything done, which is both a blessing and a curse tbh

He would be the one to take the most care of you whenever your ill psychically

Cons

He would probably overwork you

Doesnt have much time to spend on you and doesn’t make a effort to find more time unless your getting really sad about it

Probably wouldn’t be the best of help through issues with mental illness (he just doesn’t strike me as that type, feel free to disagree)

His pride would cause some serious problems in relationships :/

Mammon (I love this man.)

Pros

He’s the “if your sad, I’m sad” kind of guy so he does whatever he can to put a smile on your face

Makes his affection towards you known once he’s comfortable enough, mostly through things like hugs and head pats tho

He shows off anything you make, and I mean anything (you gave him a drawing? After showing it to everyone he puts it on the fridge. You wrote something? He reads it to everyone then puts it in his notebook to reread later, I think you get where I’m going with this)

Cons

There would probably be some communication issues due to his tsundere nature and habit of ignoring you when he’s mad

He’d get super mad at you when your trying to help him financially, maybe it’s a ego thing or maybe he’s just tired of hearing it

While his possessiveness is cute at times he’d definitely get way to overbearing if you don’t force him to cool it

Levi (I kin this man.)

Pros

He’d try to set up designated hangout times (like Friday is movie night, Tuesday is for RPGs etc)

Wanna spend time with him but aren’t very into what he’s into? While it will be harder to bond with him because of this I think if you REALLY wanted to hang with him he’d at least try to meet you in the middle (like if you like sports he’ll offer to play wii sports lol)

Insecurities getting you down again? Well never fear, levi is here! He’d find characters with flaws similar to those you see in yourself to prove that they don’t really matter (and since he struggles with insecurity himself he’d know how you feel and be one of the best at helping you through them)

Cons

Even if he makes an effort to meet you in the middle if you have different interests he’d refuse to get into “normie” stuff

He’ll guilt trip you constantly, even if it’s not on purpose (“Oh your hanging out with Asmo today? I get it, of course you’d wanna hang out with somebody cool and perfect like Asmo and not a gross yucky otaku like me”)

You have to initiate almost everything Hugs? You hug first. Handholding? You reach out to him. Confessions? You seriously thought he’d be the one to confess first??

Satan

Pros

Similar to Lucifer he’d be good at helping you get your life together and putting you on the right track

Unlike Lucifer, he’d actively make time for date nights and/or hangouts multiple times a week wether your going out for dinner or reading in front of the fireplace

While he himself might not be best at helping with comfort in the moment, he’d be great to turn to if you needed a long time treatment (you need a therapist? He’s got the best three in your area that you can afford and he found some helpful things you can do in this book)

Cons

As stated previously, he’s not the best with comfort, which can be an issue if you need a friend/partner who can be your biggest source of comfort (I’m not saying he’ll do nothing, it’ll just be kinda awkward ig)

If you vent to him about something he’ll always offer advice and while that can be good, sometimes all you want is someone to listen to you and getting advice can be annoying in the moment

I feel like hanging out with him you’d rarely ever get to talk about pointless things, everything would be serious you know? And while serious and deep conversations are good for bonding, some people (myself included) need to be able to talk about dumb things without having it turn philosophical

Asmo

Pros

He’s the best at boosting your confidence, there’s no competition

He’s more into spontaneous outings (he suddenly got the urge to go shopping, your coming with right?)

You can talk about just about anything with him, no judgment and he’ll never speak a word of it to anyone else if you don’t want him to (although he may brag to his brothers that you told him your secrets)

High emotional IQ

Cons

He has set things of things he’s interested in and his idea of trying the things your into is doing whatever it is for about 5 seconds then deciding it’s not for him

He cares a lot about looks, I don’t mean he’ll hate you or insult you cause he thinks your ugly, I mean he’ll constantly try to do your makeup, hair, and nails and he’ll always say things like “Your hair is a bit messy today, did you brush it? Yes? Well not good enough, let me do it” and “your wearing that out? There’s nothing wrong with it, I just think you’d look a lot cuter in this” and if your anything like me, that’ll get on your nerves a lot

While he’s great with emotional issues, if it’s a problem with anything like school or your job he’ll have no solution to offer, all you’ll get is a “You can do it!” and a good luck kiss

Narcissistic, need I say more?

Beel

Pros

He’s the best person to vent to, no judgment and tons of hugs and comfort food

He’s a mom friend, no explanation needed

Very supportive and always concerned for your health

Your in trouble? Call beel, he’ll help you and make sure your home safe before questioning you and will only lecture you out of love (unlike a certain older brother that will lecture you because “Your tarnishing Diavlo’s reputation by acting out like this. Your an exchange student, you must abide by the rules and behave yourself.”)

Cons

Food is his answer to everything (Sad?Food. Injured? Food. School’s stressful? Food plus a little help studying) and while food can be good for comfort, sometimes you need him to provide more than a snack

He’s the opposite of Satan in the sense that he’ll almost never offer advice when you rant to him, he just assumes getting it all out is help enough and won’t offer much more then a hug and food

Not getting along with one of his brothers? “They can be a handful, but they’re great people once you learn to handle the chaos” yeah he rarely thinks what his brothers did is a big deal so he gives you advice on how to apologize and get past it and he’ll give you food

Belphie (he really does attract the mentally ill people huh-)

Cons

I feel like he’d be good for certain people with social anxiety and people who have issues with always being scared about being a bad person (“you think your a bad person and are becoming more and more toxic by the day? Well your a better person than Lucifer that’s for sure, wether or not your toxic were going to cuddle now get in bed” or “your worried everyone is constantly staring and judging you for everything you do? Well I don’t really care about what your wearing or the way you walk so I doubt they do either, can we go home now?” ((Side note, I experience both of these issues and his uncaring personality would calm me, which is why I think this one of his pros))

He just wouldn’t care about whatever type of life style you lead and as someone who’s constantly scared of being judged for their lifestyle this would be amazing (“you sleep all the time? Same let’s nap together” “You don’t eat very healthy? Whatever, it’s fine, can we sleep now?” ((although it is a double edged sword))

He gets a burst of energy and just does the most random things (you see that tree? He’s already climbed half way up it. That petting zoo? He’s already feeding the lambs. That store? He’s already spent 30 grim)

Cons

Just like his twin he thinks every problem has one solution, but instead of food he thinks the solution is sleep (your sick? Sleep is the best medicine. A lot of homework? If you sleep you don’t have to think about it.)

At some point he just doesn’t care enough, if you come to him with a serious issue he’ll half listen to you rant then pull you down to sleep

He teases you a lot, which is fine teasing is fun, but he takes it too far. Maybe he touched on something your insecure about or he was too merciless, whatever it was, he won’t apologize for it, he just thinks your being sensitive. If he brought up some bad memories he’ll consider it, but his way of apologizing is cuddling

He doesn’t wanna do something? You guys aren’t gonna do it. You don’t wanna do something? Too bad, he wants to so your gonna.

I’m sorry this is so long- I tried to shorten it I swear- but anyway if you disagree I’m with anything, I wanna hear what you think

And even tho Beel doesn’t get much screen time and more serious moments, I think his character is way more then hunger

Random but I wanna add that other then Levi I kin Tamaki from mha and Ranpo from bsd

Dude do you just like torturing poor college students? This is so much to read, I’m about to cry 😭

I agree with the Lucifer part actually! Tho I do kinda thing he’s be good emotion support in some ways, for me, anyway. I feel like he may lack empathy that is needed in a stable relationship. Yes, he may be able to tell you with shit and honestly, he’d book my doctors appointments when I’m too anxious too so yknow. But yeah

Also agree with mammon. He’s a jackass when he wants to be, and I know he may not mean it, but his words are still hurtful in a lot of ways and he just can’t convey those emotions that’re needed in a loving relationship. But he’s so sweet and will show you off so it’s all good~

As much as I love Levi, I agree. He manipulates and guilt trips you throughout the entire game. It can’t be healthy in relationships but that don’t stop me from loving that sweet otaku boy 😔🖤

I agree with Satan too. I don’t have much to say but he’s avatar of wrath for a reason, for a start, and he honestly looks like he’d prefer talking about books than that funny thing that happened in class that made you laugh earlier

Agreed with Asmo too. Sometimes he may just get overbearing and the narcissism and the constant need to make you look better and improve you may get irritating

I agree with Beel. I don’t think he can comprehend that food isn’t an answer to everything and as a person who doesn’t cope with food and relatively hates it, he won’t be any help to me emotionally. He’s so sweet but he just won’t give you that proper support

I love Belphie so so much but I absolutely agree. He’s one of the most unbothered brothers who won’t care what you look like, yes, but that also means compliments may come rarely and like his twin, “sleep is the answer to everything” I can admit I like to sleep but I have a manic side that comes with insomnia and if he’s dragging me down and not letting me move and I just cannot sleep, I’m gonna get irritated and pissed off.

This got a bit long on my end too. I just really liked how you worded this and it was fun to see pros and cons of the ‘perfect’ brothers

I think Beel is more than food too, but I just don’t particularly like him either way cuz I’m not really a foodie so I can’t relate with him lmao

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houseof-harry · 4 years

Text

Fuck You Too | G.D.

Part 2 of Hate You Too

A/N - surprise! why im posting so late, I couldn’t tell you but here we are. im so excited to share this part w y'all, and im currently obsessed with this whole story line at this point. pls lmk what you guys think!!!!! (and @vintagedolan is an amazing gifer and I will be using her gifs on everything I post but we knew I loved her from the start and anyways)

Word Count - 5.3k

Warnings - some nasty, some angst, nothing new

Kacey described it as a glow.

You hated that, because that made everything seem warm and magical and nice. That’s not what you were feeling, despite the new pep in your step.

But how were you supposed to tell Kacey you’d slept with her boyfriend’s twin that you despised and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it?

The worst part was everything was almost back to normal the next day. He was making rude comments, you were rolling your eyes, and you were flipping each other off by the time dinner came around all over again. But something felt a little different to you. The way his eyes shined a bit brighter when you caught him giving you a death glare, the way you thought about your late night activities with him whenever he flashed you his middle finger, a whole new meaning associated with the action.

You hated that he was giving you these new feelings. So you decided to hate him even more for it.

Luckily, since your mini vacation you’d been able to avoid seeing Grayson. And you thought you’d be able to continue that streak tonight. You and your friends were headed to your favorite bar for tequila tuesday. You didn’t typically participate in something that sounded like an excuse for a frat to throw down during the week, but between your constant thoughts of Grayson and your stress from heading back to work, you were in need of a midweek drink. Or ten.

So you got on your best top, your cutest jeans, your hottest shoes, and you made sure your hair and makeup were both perfect. Tonight was about distracting, about your “glow” becoming sweat from dancing with your friends, and maybe even having an actual excuse as to why you were less uptight because Kacey was getting way too suspicious for your liking.

When you first got there, your spirits were high. Your friends were quick to get some tequila in you, and before you knew it you had that warm feeling all over your body. You had hope, you were feeling good and loose, ready to forget everything that had been haunting you for almost two weeks.

But then the Dolans walked through the doors, and it was almost like you had this 6th sense they were there because the second Grayson was inside, your eyes met. You quickly moved your gaze elsewhere, anger already flowing through your veins alongside the alcohol that was continuing to fog your brain by the minute.

You hear Kacey greet Ethan excitedly, and turn your head to see her almost tackle him down. It makes you giggle to yourself because as much as you had wanted to hate them at first, they were cute as fuck. They almost made you want a relationship of your own. Almost.

“Already drunk?” The deep, and now familiar voice of Grayson comes from behind you, already way too close for comfort.

A scowl makes its way onto your face as you turn around, finding him almost directly behind you. You have to look up at him to see his face, and he looks plenty amused with how much he’s already gotten under your skin.

“Maybe. Does it matter to you?”

He shrugs casually, looking around and smiling at the rest of your friends before looking back down at you. “Not at all. Just something I’d expect from you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and pushing at his chest so you can step away from him. “Mind your fucking business, Dolan. I don’t even know why you’d come to a bar when you know you’re not gonna drink.”

“Oh, so I’m not welcome to hang out with you guys? That’s kind of mean, Y/N. Does alcohol make you mean?”

The teasing tone of his voice is only adding to your quickly building frustration as you take a large sip of your drink. “You haven’t seen mean from me yet.”

Before he gets a chance to respond, you walk over to Mila, a more than annoyed look on your face.

“Fuck that kid,” you mumble, finishing off the rest of your drink in a few gulps.

She laughs, shaking her head at you. “Easy there, tiger. You’ve already had four shots and two of those. You wanna be able to walk out of here by the end of the night?”

You roll your eyes, putting your empty cup on the table. “Fine, mom.”

“Damn, he’s been here for less than five minutes and you’re already a bitch,” she laughs, her eyes going to Grayson for a moment to watch him talk to Jas before she looks back at you.

“Can you blame me? He’s unbearable,” you whine, a pout on your lips. You feel a bit childish, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Grayson was a nuisance. A nuisance with a big dick. But definitely a nuisance.

“I think you’re literally the only one who feels that way,” she responds, her eyes clearly raking up and down his body, and you turn to do the same. The tight black long sleeve shirt defines his muscles quite nicely, and his jeans follow the curve of his ass.

You shake your head to bring you out of your trance, knowing yourself too well. Tequila made you horny, and you refused for him to be the one you wanted to spend the night with.

“He’s shallow, condescending, and straight up rude. I don’t get how any of you even like him.”

“You’re the only one he seems to be like that too, though. I wonder why.” Mila grabs her chin, tapping her lips as she tries to think of a reason.

You can’t help the anger that bubbles right back to the surface at her statement, though. That’s all everyone tells you. He’s so nice, and cares about others, and he makes people laugh and is a good time overall. It’s just you that he isn’t nice to. And they love to remind you every time he comes up in conversation, which is more often than you find necessary. They seem to literally swoon over him. You wonder if he’s fucked them too, and that’s how he has a hold over all of them. Maybe he thought it was what would make you like him more, but it didn’t fucking work and you despised how much of a cocky ass he was about fucking you.

So you do what you do best, and find the most attractive man you can. It’s almost laughable how much he looked like Grayson. He was about 6 foot, dark hair, beard, tattoos all over his legs, defined muscles, almost a Grayson look a like. But not quite. And fortunately enough for you, he was easy to woo because he was dragging you out of the bar not even an hour later to bring you back to his place. You hoped he was a distraction enough, finally no Grayson in site to continue to ruin any type of fun you were determined to have.

***

You were grateful that your friends so regularly opened their homes to you. It led to many nights spent at their pools, in their living rooms, cooking in their kitchens, that all created new amazing memories for you to remember forever.

And that’s what you guys were all doing tonight. You were at Mila’s pool, floating around with everyone and going over your weeks to catch up. That’s when Mila asked about the guy you went home with, and you decided now was your moment to finally brag about the man from the bar. He didn’t make you cum as hard as Grayson did, but he got the job done and you’ll be damned if you don’t let everyone know.

To be honest, when Grayson heard you talking, for a moment he couldn’t even blame you for fucking the guy and being so proud about it. But then he remembered it was you talking, and he instantly felt his blood pressure rise.

“His hands were just so...big. And his hand print was bruised on me literally until this morning.”

All the girls around you giggle, ignoring Grayson's looming presence as he wafted in the water closer and closer, trying to seem as casual as possible with his back turned to you all.

“Oh my god and the way he just manhandled me, he picked me up without even batting an eye. It was fucking amazing.”

“Ugh, you’re really out here living the dream,” Mila sighs out, a pout adorning her lips.

“For real, Y/N, you gotta give us all the tips,” Jas adds, a knowing smirk on her face. You roll your eyes before looking at the other girls again.

Before you can respond with anything, Ethan is announcing dinner and the girls are dispersing. You decide to float around for a few minutes alone, wanting the space before you’re back at the dinner table with everyone.

“So he’s got nice hands?”

You jump and cover your mouth, fear shooting through your body for a moment as you turn to see Grayson in the water with you.

“Jesus fucking christ you dick. How long have you been stalking me?”

He rolls his eyes, sinking into the water so that just his neck and head are above it. “It’s a small ass pool, I’m not stalking you.”

You huff, looking over to see all of your friends starting to get their food and sit around the table that’s blocked by the fire pit. You could see them, but they could barely see you. “Aren’t you going to eat or some shit?”

“Aren’t you?”

“God you’re annoying.” You decide to move and float on your back, closing your eyes so you can do your best to ignore him.

“Bet he didn’t make you cum as hard as I did.”

You groan, clenching your fists as heated anger shoots through you. Of course he’s right, but he shouldn’t know it. “You’re such a fucking boy. Not everything is a damn competition. But, if it was, he won.”

For a minute you’re met with silence, and you think maybe he’s actually going to leave you alone.

“Liar.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, shifting your body to be upright again. You’re met with his smug face, muscles bulging as his skin drips with water from the pool. For a second you think about how he definitely looks better than the other guy would dripping wet like that, but you shut it down real fast. “First, you need to put your ego in check. This may come as a shock to you, but you’re not some god on earth. Second, stop talking about this shit while our friends are here. They don’t need to know shit happened.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I definitely don’t want them knowing I slept with the fake ass princess of town. I’m just saying it’s a shame you think you’ll ever get better dick than mine.”

“You are such a fucking asshole. Like a grade A, picture perfect image of an asshole.” You start to swim to the edge, over his antics. Your patience for him is thin to start, and he’s pushed your buttons enough for you to need another two weeks of not seeing his stupid face. You reach for the deck, getting ready to pull yourself out when you feel two large hands grip your waist, forcing you to stay shoulder deep in the water. You couldn’t stand here, but he could.

“Running away from your problems, like always?” His voice is right in your ear and you’re sure if you shift your head just a tiny bit you’d feel his lips there as well.

“So you finally admit you’re a problem?”

He chuckles softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Maybe. But you’re not much better.”

You cock your head to move farther from his, almost as if you’re considering his words. “Maybe,” you mock him, your muscles tensing as one of his hands slowly moves to the front of your bathing suit. His fingers dip in, quickly finding your clit and getting to work. You hate that your body naturally responds as you relax like putty in his grip, your legs spreading. “But at least I don’t have to trap random girls in a pool with me to reassure my fat fucking ego.”

He bites his lip, temporarily ignoring your words and he continues to circle your clit. He listens to your quiet whimpers as you do what you can to stay silent, both for the sake of not feeding further into his pride and to keep your activities a secret.

Soon your chest is rising and falling quickly and you’re grateful you’re in a pool because there would be no other way to explain the drips of sweat on your hairline. You can feel the fire in the pit of your stomach slowly growing, spreading throughout your entire body.

“Interesting you think you’re a random girl,” he mumbles into your ear before removing himself completely from you.

You gasp, quickly coming back to reality as your orgasm fades into the past, watching him pull himself out of the pool next to you. It should honestly be illegal how good his back looked when doing that.

He looks down at you, annoying ass smirk and all with his hands on his hips as he watches you try to process everything that just happened. “Going to eat. Or some shit.”

And with that he leaves you alone in the pool, cheeks flushed, pussy clenching and a whole lot to think about.

***

“You’ve got the new dick glow girl, I’m telling you.”

“Oh jesus, Kace. It’s not even 9 in the morning,” you huff, sitting across from her at your table, breakfast in hand.

“You have been happier lately,” Ethan chimes in as he watches you begin to eat the vegan french toast he claims will change your world.

You take a bite, shaking your head. “That’s not a thing, and even if it were I don’t have it. Haven’t had dick in a week.”

Although that’s technically true, your mind can’t help but go to the pool from a few days ago. There was no dick involved, but it definitely made you flush a bit. There was definitely no glow, though. If anything it was from embarrassment that you let Grayson touch you again. Or, that’s what you tell yourself, at least.

“Well you’re acting like you’re getting dick every night. Was it so good you masturbate thinking about it every night?”

“Oh jesus christ.”

Ethan turns bright red as Kacey laughs and you rub your face in your hands. Her accusations aren’t wrong, but telling her would mean telling them that Grayson was the one haunting you while you laid awake, chasing sleep but his body, his hands, his everything wouldn’t leave you alone until you did something about it.

“Oh my god, is it the feelings glow? Do you like the guy?” Kacey continues to laugh, wiggling her eyebrows as you make a face of disgust.

“Absolutely not. I don’t want to date anyone right now, and I don’t know anyone who I’d be willing to give up my single life for. Ethan,” you turn to him pointing your fork at him. “Good luck, she’s fucking crazy today.” You stand, grabbing your plate and walking towards your room. “Now I need to get ready, so stop talking about my fucking glow that doesn’t exist.”

The couple wait a few moments to hear your music blasting before Kacey turned to Ethan.

“God, she’s got it for someone. Think it’s the guy from the bar?” She wonders aloud, watching Ethan inhale what’s left of the french toast he served himself.

He shrugs. “Dunno. What exactly is the ‘new dick glow’?”

“It’s when a girl starts getting dicked down, but like actually dicked down, not just by a guy who has a ten second stroke game. Whoever the guy is definitely fucked her right, because Y/N never gets the new dick glow. She hasn’t made a joke about guys not knowing where the clit is for almost three weeks, which might be a record.”

Ethan scoffs, looking down the hall and then back at Kacey. “I know where the clit is.”

Kacey laughs, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I know, baby. That’s why I’m dating you. You gave me the new dick glow.”

He smirks, crossing his arm over his chest. “Fuck yeah I did.”

“But that’s why I wanna know who it is, because Y/N deserves to be happy with someone who makes her happy. The only reason she got defensive was because I’m right.”

Ethan nods in agreement, thinking to himself for a moment.

“Is there a guy equivalent to the new dick glow?”

“Well, any guy who likes dick can get the new dick glow.”

“No, I mean like would I have gotten a new pussy glow when we started fucking?”

Kacey sits back in her chair, running her tongue over her teeth as she thinks before shrugging. “I mean I guess. Any pussy to a guy is good pussy for the most part, though. It’d have to be a girl they’re really into to get a glow.”

Ethan hums, clearly lost in his thoughts. Kacey raises her brow, sitting up to grab her fork. “Why, do you think you got the glow when we started seeing each other?”

“Oh 100%,” he nods, resting his elbow on the table to put his head in his hand while he looks over at her. “But that doesn’t surprise me. I just think Grayson might have the new pussy glow.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Ethan nods, now even more confident in his conclusion. “He’s just been more energetic than normal, and he hasn’t mentioned how desperately single he is since our beach weekend.”

“Who’s he been seeing?”

“That’s the thing,” he huffs, the frustration clearly starting to build as he racks his brain to put the puzzle pieces together without success. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone new, and when he’s talking to his new soulmate of the month he doesn’t shut the fuck up about her before he even knows her last name. But none of them have ever given him the pussy glow, not like this.”

“Wow, the odds Y/N and Grayson get the glow at the same time? Maybe they’ll finally be able to stand one another,” Kacey jokes.

“What if they’re fucking each other and that’s why they’ve got the glow?” Ethan laughs, shaking his head before continuing to eat.

Kacey laughs with him at first, but then her face falls when she thinks about it.

“You said Gray stopped complaining about being single after the beach weekend?”

Ethan nods, looking at her confused.

“That’s when Y/N stopped with the hating all men jokes.”

They both sit there for a moment, watching each other.

“Nah, there’s no way. Grayson can barely stand to be around Y/N for five minutes. There’s no way she could give him the glow,” Ethan speaks up first, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Kacey sighs, a slight frown forming on her lips. “You’re right. Would kinda be the perfect love story, though.”

***

2:53 am.

That’s the time your phone says it is.

And somehow you’re wide awake, Grayson haunting your thoughts.

You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion or the way he seems to consume every part of your mind and body that has you opening your messages with him. There’s only a handful of texts there, all of them short. Your last conversation with him was from when you were out with your friends, but Kacey and Ethan had too much fun too fast. They needed to get home, and being the best best friend, you willingly put your ego on the line by texting Grayson to come get them.

fine.

That one word was staring at you, mocking you almost from the screen, knowing that despite how much love Grayson has for his brother, he was still barely willing to do what you asked just due to the fact it was coming from you. It made a small pang of sadness shoot through you, but it was quickly overpowered by anger, and that anger was only heightened by the fact that his snappy attitude and the way he was able to get such a rise out of you made you so fucking wet.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you see the three dots pop up on the screen in front of you for a few seconds before they disappear. You hold your breath, unable to move from the anxiety of being caught staring at these messages looming over you for no reason. It was probably him trying to reach someone else and he didn’t realize he was typing to you.

But then they pop up again, and for almost a full minute before they went away again.

You lay there, waiting to see if he’ll actually say anything to you, but the three dots don’t come back. The time at the top of your screen says 3:01, and you can’t believe he’d even be up right now. Hell, someone probably had his phone and was trying to text you as a prank or something.

But fuck it. You wanted dick, his dick.

you up

You press send before you can think too hard about it, knowing if you let one brain cell evaluate your decision, you wouldn’t have done it.

As you read the message back to yourself, you see why. What kind of douche ass shit was that? That’s something you’d expect Grayson to send you, not the other way around. What were you going to say after he responds? If he responds. What would you say the next time you saw him if this didn’t go as planned? What even was the fucking plan?

As you continue to spiral, your phone dings and lights up in your face, his name popping up.

what do you want

You purse your lips together, surprised by his response. First, the fact he responded and also by the fact he didn’t totally dismiss you either.

But how the fuck do you respond to that?

You decide honesty is the best policy, and at this point there isn’t anything you could do too make things worse than they are because they are already so fucking bad.

thinking about your dick

Shit. You can practically feel his ego growing from your comfortable position under your sheets, even though he lives almost a half hour away. Maybe you should start consulting your brain cells after all.

did you just fucking booty call me 😂

Great. Just more fuel for him to add to the fire.

no. it was a text and i didnt ask you to come over.

thats a shame

You sit there dumbfounded, his response confusing you even more than every feeling he stirs up inside of you. Did he want to come over? Was he thinking about fucking you? Did he actually mean to try and text you before and pussy out?

Ethan and Kacey were at the guys’ house, leaving you alone in the apartment. Realistically, you could totally have him over for a quick fuck without them noticing, as long as he snuck out and back in without waking either of them up. Did you trust him to be able to do that? No. Did you care about that more than getting fucked?

guess im going to bed

A double text from the Grayson Dolan himself. Maybe you weren’t the only desperate one here.

what would you do if you werent going to bed rn

if it were up to me id come fuck you

gonna unlock my door. don’t let k or e hear

You throw your phone face down on the bed as you get up, slight panic running through you. This could quite literally be the dumbest thing you’ve done in a long ass time, and especially sober.

But there’s no time to harp on that, preparing for Grayson’s possible arrival taking the cake. So you get up, moving to the front door and unlocking it before rushing back to your room to get ready. You do what you can to freshen up, changing into just an oversized shirt for easy access, and cleaning up the room, doing what you can to make it as nice as possible. He’d never been there before, and you had no interest in him picking apart anything before getting to what you really want.

Just as you’re fluffing your pillows, you hear the front door open and shut. Butterflies explode in your stomach, nerves you’d been ignoring unable to hide deep within you anymore as you anticipate finally seeing him after what felt like so long.

You check the time on your phone. 3:33. Only a few minutes earlier than you thought he would get here.

You turn as soon as you hear your bedroom door opening. His wide shoulders take up the majority of your doorframe, his white shirt tight across his chest, and his casual stance making you practically drool. And you let yourself enjoy, taking in his athletic shorts that show he is definitely not wearing anything underneath and he is also definitely excited to be there.

He chuckles, crossing his hands over his chest. “Did you tell me to come here just to check me out?”

The minute you hear his voice, your eyes quickly meet his, and his gaze seems to be burning into you.

“Dunno. Do you know how to do anything besides stand there and look pretty?”

He rolls his eyes, making his way into the room and kicking his sneakers off as he gets closer to you. “You and I both know I can do a lot more than that.”

“You’re gonna have to remind me, then,” you hum, a smirk on your face as he finally grips your waist, pushing you gently against the bed so that you have to sit in front of him.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Your hands come to rest on his biceps as he grabs your chin to lean down and kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, moving slower than you expected. The kiss is sensual, slow and hot as he makes sure you can feel every part of his mouth on yours. You bring a hand to his wrist, the sensation of finally having his lips on yours making your head spin. You’d missed it more than you’d like to admit.

He begins pushing your body down so you’re lying on your back, your shirt riding up your thighs and exposing the warm skin there. He rests his free hand by the side of your head to lean his body over yours, his knees resting on the edge of the bed in between your legs. You could feel his hard dick against your abdomen and you moan against his lips just at the thought of finally having him again.

He pulls away from your mouth for a moment, both of your breathing a bit more ragged than before as you look into each other's eyes for what feels like the first time. It’s pretty dark in your room, the lamp in the corner the only source of light, but you can still see all the different colors and emotions that seem to be dancing behind his irises.

You lick your lips and pull on his wrist to bring his face back to yours and he seems to hesitate for a moment before conceding, meeting your lips with his again for a moment before dragging them down to your chin. His kisses along the skin there are lighter and quicker, until he is finally trailing them down your neck and finding the spot there that makes you gasp.

He pays attention to this spot, kissing and sucking until you’re sure there’s a bruise there, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

While he focuses on your neck, he lets go of your chin to drag his hand leisurely down your body and to the hem of your shirt. His fingertips dance along the skin just below it, and you feel the goosebumps quickly forming in a trail behind them. He pushes the shirt up slowly, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your skin that hadn’t left his mind since the last time he had been able to touch it.

He grabs the collar of your shirt from the inside, his forearm pushing the fabric up to completely expose your body while also showing some new skin where your neck meets your chest. He lets his lips drag down there, and you let out a breathy sigh of contentment.

“So soft for me,” he mumbles, and you melt into the way his tongue feels against your skin, his hand moving from your collar to your chest and allowing his finger to brush over your nipple

“Grayson,” you mumble, eyes closed as you enjoy his soft touches, but the warmth coming from them is overwhelming. It was caring, gentle, even nice. That’s not what you need from him, though. Not when you’ve already been so confused.

“Hm?” He hums against your skin, licking over the dark spot there.

“Gonna put a pep in your step or what? Thought you came here to fuck me.”

He lifts his head at that, his eyebrows quirked as he looks at you confused. “No build up allowed?”

You huff, assuming he’s only acting this way to get a rise out of you. He wants to hear how ready you are from him, and at this point you don’t care because you want to get your shit rocked.

“I don’t need the buildup, that’s some romantic ass shit. You’d know I’m wet as shit if you touched me where I know you want to.”

You swear you saw disappointment rush over his features for a split second before they harden, his jaw tightening.

“I wasn’t being romantic, I was just doing what I always fucking do!” He stands from above you, backing away as he rests his hands on his hips.

You sigh before sitting up, assuming he’s just throwing a fit and will get over himself to finally do what you’ve both been anticipating.

“That was some soft shit, Gray. Last time you literally told me all the things you hate about me.”

He groans and mumbles under his breath as he closes his eyes to collect himself. You lean back on your hands, amusedly watching him try not to completely lose his shit.

“Do you always have to be such a fucking bitch?”

His words make the smirk fall from your face, and they cut way deeper than you’d expect. You can see from the look on his face that he’s not teasing you, he really meant what he said. You’re not sure if he expected an answer, but before you can think of anything rational, your anger takes over.

“I’d rather be a bitch than a fucking idiot?”

“Oh, so caring about people makes me a fucking idiot?” Grayson’s teeth clench, his skin still red as his fingernails dig into his palms.

“No, caring about you would make me an idiot,” you do your best to be as nonemotional as possible, pushing the anger that is aiming to match his down while ignoring the implication that he cares about you. Of course, anger is a secondary emotion, and the fear of actually caring for someone you’re supposed to hate is what’s triggered your fight or flight, but that’s something for you to work on alone. Or in therapy. But not with Grayson.

He scoffs. “You know what Y/N? Fuck you.”

He walks around the room, gathering the few things he brought with him before slamming your bedroom door.

You let all of the emotional baggage of the past ten minutes take over, tears quickly filling your eyes as you mumble, “fuck you too.”

Read part 3 here!

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