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ubemango · 5 years

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one time, in your room (m)

note: I wrote this after receiving such an enthusiastic response to my virgin!jk drabbles. I really can’t thank you guys enough for expressing interest in this story, it really helped jumpstart lunyua lol 😭😭🥰🥰!!!!!!! I’m happy she’s back:) I would be absolutely nowhere without it heheh. My thank yous are also due to Violet and my crème de la crème for helping me write this back in March--I love you both very, very much!!!!!! Enjoy :D

DISCLAIMER. there’s one scene based off a tweet that I can’t find the link to lol... it’s about getting fingered till u cry. You’ll know when you get there 😭

PAIRING. jeongguk/reader GENRE. romance, college au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 17.3k WARNINGS. alcohol, oral (f receiving), cum shot, fingering, sexting, phone sex/masturbation, face sitting, riding, talks about Babies, jk loving oc A Lot SUMMARY. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

part 1: emergency tactics

It started five months in.

Jimin probably didn’t mean anything by it. There’s talk and then there’s inebriation, and Jimin slurred roughly between the two like the drunkard he is. But Jeongguk was still hurt and you didn’t know what to do.

“He called me a pussy then told me to fuck one instead,” Jeongguk said under the strobe lights, the plastic ones you buy at the dollar store and you know it’s Hoseok who got them because he’s frugal, not cheap. The couch was itchy under your skirt. “Am I—is it really that bad? Like am I doing this wrong? Am I taking too long, or—”

“No, oh my god. Babe,” you said, and the cooler in your hand found the floor before you cupped his face. He was pouting. “Doing things—like that—it’s—it shouldn’t be something you stress over, okay? Don’t listen to other people. I like you. And Jimin is a whore.”

Jeongguk snorted. You could still see the doubt in his eyes, though. Shiny because he’s tipsy, but that downward droop still there. “You’re the best,” he said as sincere as he could sound.

And he’d left it at that. He got way more drunk though, definitely influenced by his post-teen-pre-adult angst but what’s a 21-year-old supposed to do with ample service of alcohol and an aching heart? You’d left him to it and cleaned the vomit on his shirt after. It was an okay party.

It stayed okay for a bit, too. Jeongguk isn’t an insecure person, but his bouts of uncertainty were getting more and more frequent. Especially when all his friends were naturally horny and really fucking stupid.

“So you’ve been dating for almost eight months and you—still haven’t defiled him,” Jimin says, now absolutely sober and still absolutely dumb.

You can feel Jeongguk’s ears heat up. “Dude.”

Jimin ignores him and turns to you. “Aren’t you like—bored?”

“When will you stop talking,” Jeongguk murmurs through a bite of his burrito bowl.

“I’m not,” you answer Jimin, flipping through another page of a study on birth control. A convoluted piece of shit, as Taehyung put so eloquently, but he left a couple minutes ago for a study group. “And stop bullying him.”

“I’m just shocked,” Jimin continues. “How does someone so hot end up with someone even hotter and like—not immediately participate in procreation. This is a crime!”

“Look.” Your textbook flips closed. “I don’t know what your obsession is with this guy’s dick over here, but it’s mine to worry about.”

“I think you upset her,” Jeongguk says.

“I know what it’s like to be pressured into sex,” you say. You feel Jimin lock up. “Look—sorry, that was baggage and I’m stressed.” Jimin nods. “But seriously? It’s—he’s—Jeongguk’s fine the way he is, alright?”

You taper off. It’s silent save for the milling of other students in the quad, but the air is thick. Sliced through with your anger but you’d rather have this conversation in private, without Jimin and his probing. Unnerving Jeongguk was like lighting the fuse in you, and maybe it was the instinct to preserve whatever purity Jimin keeps insisting on but you’ve never seen your boyfriend so upset about something. It kind of hurt to see him like this.

You get back to taking notes when Jimin talks again. “I’ll go,” he says. “Jeongguk I—”

“It’s fine.” Doesn’t sound like it though because he’s tight-lipped.

Jimin salutes and sidles away. A bubble of unfinished conversations swells around you.

“Thanks for—that, I guess,” he says.

Your highlighter squeaks against the paper. “Jeongguk.”

“M’yeah?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe that was a bad start because Jeongguk sputters. You think he squawks, too—and he’s definitely fidgeting, lots of cut-off noises in his throat as he tries to say anything coherent. You look at him and he finally takes a breath in. “I—”

“You’re worried.”

His face contorts in confusion. “About what?”

“I don’t know. But I can feel it.”

“Same wavelength,” he laughs. Empty but he knows you’re just trying to help.

“Look.” He doesn’t but that’s because you’ve turned back to your books. “We have sex when we have sex. And if someone tries to—bother you about it, you can tell them they can suck on my fat cock.”

You hear him chortle. “I’ll do that.”

The conversation ends. You study. You still feel Jeongguk fidgeting.

Now there’s three weeks left till the term is over.

“My—brain. It’s exploding. There’s too much going on.”

Jeongguk’s desk is a cramped space—the only place you can prop your textbook up against is his sweatshirt wrapped into a wrinkly ball. Graciously taken from his hamper because he still hasn’t done his laundry. The chair creaks when you spin to look at him: a dejected blob of comfy clothes surrounded by looseleaf paper and sticky notes. “Break time?”

He slumps against his pillows, arms out like a sad toddler. “Break time.”

This probably means you’ll cuddle for the next three hours but there’s little to complain about when Jeongguk purrs into your hair once you settle into his chest. There’s a warmth to him you can’t get anywhere else. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Just working too hard.”

“Okay,” you murmur. Jeongguk’s breath evens out the way it does when he wants to stop thinking. You can hear the hum of the fridge outside.

“Want this to be over.”

You trace your nail over his collarbone. “I know.”

“When’s your awards ceremony?”

“In two weeks,” you say.

“Same time as our final game.”

You lean your head up when he sighs, watching his eyes flutter in the afternoon shade of his curtains. A calmer period right after a hectic schedule of school, because you have Professor Kwon to thank for her excessive meetings about tutorials and assignments. It never occurred to you that you might’ve been imposing when you showed up to Jeongguk’s dorm with your homework, but he’d been studying too. Same wavelength, he’d say.

“Jimin been bothering you lately?”

“No, thank god. Don’t think I could take anymore prodding.”

This is the first time you’ve asked since that afternoon in the quad, though now Jimin’s been less annoying whenever you see him with Jeongguk. You know he’s just itching for your boyfriend to finally get his dick wet.

And you can’t blame him—that was his intention when he finally got Jeongguk to ask you out. Friendship with Jeongguk was a weird stretch of time, especially when he’d spent the entirety of it silently pining for you: involuntarily single, but so preoccupied with the care and keeping of your GPA you’d been blind to any advance. Not that he tried anything, though.

He’d been in his second year, still getting used to the enormity of campus grounds as a scholarship-bound athlete. And on top of all his schoolwork he had to balance the fragility of having a crush on an upperclassman well on her way to PhD candidacy. It was a good thing he was cute, though, and Jimin had no qualms about embarrassing Jeongguk any chance he got when you were around. The blush when Jimin had pushed him to your desserts table at one of the indoor Farmers’ Markets still burns in the furthest love-lit corner in your mind.

“You remember when you asked me out?”

“God.” A too-late night in the library that prompted the chivalrous part in Jeongguk because he’d brought you to the bus stop too close for campus police to escort you. You’d been good friends for a while already, the hurdle of skirting around each other knocked down when Jeongguk finally got the guts to insert himself in the your friend circle. In that wet shelter, a quivering lip. The sure that now has you seven-and-a-half months down the line with arguably the best thing that’s happened to you since you started your college career, but you won’t tell him that. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Just—feels like forever ago.”

“Sappy.”

“Maybe the stars are aligning,” you say.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, just. Sometimes when I lie down with you I feel like I have to—lay myself bare.”

“Then bare yourself.”

You pause. “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” Jeongguk says like he’s winded.

“Two weeks of me finishing assignments and you at hockey practice. You know. Take advantage of the time we have with each other.”

“Good point. But I have a counter offer.”

Jeongguk is always a giver. “Which is?”

“I eat you out instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” and this is the only response you can come up with without sounding too shocked. Or horny. Not that you’d ever shy away but Jeongguk had a way of burning you up from the inside. “You’re down for that?”

“Always,” he says, then rolls you over. All that muscle from his workouts barring you from even thinking about fighting him back so you let him push you till you’re comfortable. But this isn’t about you. Not at the moment, anyway.

“Take your shirt off.” Jeongguk does this so quickly his face almost crashes into yours when he comes back down, gasping a laugh that he breathes into you when his mouth meets yours. A quick tangle of your legs around his waist has him lying over you with ease, caught in his cage of pressed-down elbows and intimacy.

“Wanna—take care of you.” He trails his mouth down your neck, bed squeaking when his knees pad down. Lips tasting lower and now he lifts your shirt up to your chest, pressing wetness to your stomach and you’re quick to discard your clothing if only to see Jeongguk pause at the zipper of your jeans. “Can I—?”

You nod.

His fingers don’t shake but he’s blinking fast, pulling on the waistline of the rough denim and shucking it past your feet, sighing when your panties come into view. A short-lived reverence when he leans down to mouth at your sex above the thin cotton and your legs spread wide for his arms to cling onto.

“Tell me—tell me what you like,” he says. A shy demand.

“Take my underwear off then I’ll tell you.”

There’s warmth lost when Jeongguk slides your panties down to one ankle but he’s over you in the second it takes for you to flick it off. No pause in his eagerness but now he lies in wait for your instructions. The way he pauses for you is so agonizingly hot you might combust.

“It’s—I like it when… I feel you lick at my…” God you sound fucked. But Jeongguk’s a wild card and takes it in stride, hands once again finding purchase around your thighs and you feel his hard tongue on you, a wet slide that has your stomach caving. It’s the natural twitch in your fingers that prompt you to keep a loose grip in his hair, other hand tight in the bed like your proxy anchor. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah…”

Jeongguk laves your core, pressing harder the higher he goes. Contingency he takes advantage of because you get louder. It’s the lick on your clit that has you sighing. “Oooh, you—use the… tip of your tongue. And lick right—there.”

He’s so pliant you feel like you’re throttling him. There’s a forward insistence of his head until you feel the flat of his tongue pressed fully against you, his neck rolling with every shift of your hips. In control of your pleasure and he makes it feel like this is what he was made to do. His fingers get tight. “You taste good,” he exhales right onto your sex and you nearly crush his head with your thighs.

“Oh my god.” Your breaths are lost. You might hide your face but that would mean losing sight of Jeongguk providing a service only he can spell out with his tongue. “Ah—”

There’s a little squeak further down the bed and you notice the small flutter of his groin caught in the warmth of him and the sheets. His lips close around your nub before you can say anything, slurping that has your gut wrangled, your fingers gripping his hair as you get lost in his love. Your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, that—agh—”

He’s made you come before. And the familiar tone of your incoming bliss is something he can memorize—he probably already has judging by the train wreck of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you. A swindler of your orgasms but you’d gladly hand yourself over if it meant deceiving your pussy into its own demise.

“Fuck you’re—so sexy like this,” Jeongguk mumbles. You whine at his attention but now you’re running even hotter than ever.

You’re not even telling him what to do anymore but you know he knows it’s good, a message sent with every twitch of your sex into his mouth and now his fingers are splayed along your pelvis to keep you from bucking up. He doesn’t even need his fingers. It’s the hardened tongue, the little slashes on your clit as his head swings back and forth that have you squealing: “Yes, like that. Oh I’m cumming—fuck—!”

Jeongguk hums when you jerk your hips up, convulsions in all your sweetest parts and your throat is dry from all your moaning, the swell of your lungs so hard to keep up with but he always has you losing your breath. Spit collects in its warmth down your ass but it’s a lost thought when Jeongguk lathers you into your come-down, legs like jelly and he helps your knees together when you finally stop trembling. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you feel his lips on your mouth, complaint of catching a break right behind your teeth when you kiss with what little strength remains in you.

“That was. Really good,” you whisper. Jeongguk laughs. And he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with his wet mouth and red cheeks. “Do you wanna cum?”

He looks like he’ll say no. A bitten lip instead of confirmation. “I—”

“Please, I want you to.” Like a switch turned on he lights up, head bobbing and now he’s shoving his jeans past his ass, underwear down too. “You wanna—come on my face?”

His eyes look like they’re leaking out of his face. A strangled noise escapes his throat. He probably thinks you’re on crack but it’s just in his nature for him to assume a dazed auto-pilot whenever you say shit so outlandish. “You—I—I-I—Can—?”

“You can cum—god you can cum anywhere. I’m yours. Remember?” Reaching behind, you feel for the clasp of your bra, flinging it off before you pull on Jeongguk by the dip of his back until his knees straddle your ribs. “Is this good?”

“Can—could you—spit… on it.” His voice dwindles like he’s caught between the threshold of dirty and pushing it. You don’t answer because your neck straining for the tip of his dick and down the rest of his shaft is all he needs for one. Jeongguk bucks into you. “Oh fuck—ngh—ah!”

If his grinding on the mattress was a ticking bomb, your tongue on his cock is the thirty seconds till detonation. And by the sounds of Jeongguk groaning into the mid-afternoon sun slipping through his curtains you know he’s almost there. “Lie down, lie down,” he instructs, hand replacing your mouth in a stroke so quick you’re scared he might get cum in your hair.

“Agh—fuck yeah I’m—”

A spurt of his cum stains your lip, then your cheek. You feel some on the tip of your nose too but Jeongguk points his dick down to your tits, spilling all his hot frustration on your even hotter skin and you might cum again from the visual of him looking so spent. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that—” Jeongguk swallows twice— “I… wow.”

His dick is getting soft. There’s sweat pooling where your body meets the sheets. “Wanna pass me tissues?”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah—here, sorry.” Jeongguk makes soft passes with a wad of cotton over your chest, handing one to you for your face. “Do you—do you like it? When I… cum on you?”

“Yeah.” You think about making a weird comment about sipping on his juice but you’ll save it for later. You focus on not letting his spunk flake on your cheek. “It’s hot. Really.”

“Good,” he says. Flopping down after shooting the soiled tissue into the basket and now he seems exhausted. “Do you feel gross or is it just me.”

“Gross how?”

“Gross like I need a shower.”

You can’t deny him. “Wanna shower?”

“Yep,” he says with no hesitation, and he doesn’t let you say anything else when he grabs you by your wrists. Somehow, everything feels lighter.

Sometimes Jeongguk invites you out to practice. It’s boring and you don’t know a single rule about gameplay, but the presence of him despite being a ways away on the ice is still a comfort on its own.

The arena is frigidly cold, and while you aren’t without distraction (re: Assignments) it’s still one you can barely get yourself to really focus on. You rub your face in frustration. You hear the sound of the hockey puck passed around in harsh slaps.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jimin,” you acknowledge. He drops down next to you. “Here to spy on hockey ass too, huh.”

“That and Hoseok promised to get me dinner later.” You raise your eyebrow. “Did one of his assignments.”

“Forgot you were a chemistry genius.” Clicking your tongue, you watch the big 97 of Jeongguk’s jersey as he glides around behind the glass. He waves when he sees you looking. You’d greet him back but your hands are too perfect where they are in the heat of your sweater pockets so you wave your head in what you hope looks like excitement.

“Been holding up okay?” You turn. Jimin’s eyes are a blaze of concern. “The other week, in the quad. You were pretty stressed.”

“Final paper.”

“Dissertation?”

“Working up to that,” you say.

“So you’re a scholar scholar.”

“Mm.” Your laptop screen blinks to black. “Something like that.” You hear Jimin snicker. He’s coiled up, stomach caved in a tiny laugh, eyes crinkled. Too amused. “What?”

“I’m just—” Jimin takes a breath in to stem his impending laughing fit— “so confused. Like, there’s Jeongguk who can eat eight cups of spicy ramen and literally bomb the bathroom with his shit—and then right next to him is Jane Goodall but with human babies.”

“He loves spicy ramen,” you comment.

“Yeah but do we like his stank? Nope. And you really just compared pronatalism to liking ramen. You know you’re out of his league.”

Jeongguk, completely oblivious to Jimin’s really weird anecdote, brings a fist up in cheers when he shoots the puck into the net. “Well. At the very least he’s cute.”

Jimin heeds with a hum to watch the play on ice. Seeing the team skate around with their broad-shoulders and thick helmets is an odd kind of relaxation. A team of huge men cutting the ice with knives on their feet but the sound is a swish satisfying enough for those kinds of videos that put you to sleep. Rough and gentle, just like Jeongguk. “I’m glad Jeongguk met you,” Jimin starts again.

“Mm. I think he has you to thank.” You boot up your laptop once more in the hopes you get inspired to type, but now Jimin has you distracted even more.

“He just… used to be so quiet. And I’m gonna brag here but he’s got good friends. But meeting you was a game-changer.”

“Hm.”

“He was so passive.” You think to Jimin almost two years ago, pushing a slightly-smaller Jeongguk towards your table at the market. One look in your eye; pointing to the donut closest to him. Your finger touched his palm when you dropped the chocolate-glazed on it and he looked lost. “But now he’s just. Happy. All the time. It’s nice to see.”

There’s 97 again. Then Jeongguk turns and glides closer to the rail. He holds up ten fingers. Ten till over. You give a thumbs up. You feel yourself shivering but you’re not cold anymore. “Then I’m glad, too.”

“Good kid.” Jimin waves too, and Jeongguk skates off without looking at him. “Bitch! Anyway.” He leans back on his hands, feet perched on the row in front. “You guys… good now?”

And your screen fades to black again. “Oh god.”

“Sorry, fuck. Sometimes I think—no sometimes I don’t think. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” You turn to Jimin looking very apologetic, keeping mum with his lips folded in. “It’s—he’s. A lot more eager, I have to say.”

“And are you okay with that?”

You hesitate. “I mean if we’re getting vulgar here—”

“Absolutely not, you are not telling me what he did with his dick.”

You raise your hands in surrender. You wouldn’t have told him anyway. It’s just nice to see a flustered Jimin, especially after what he’s subjected you and Jeongguk to. Good-natured but overtly so, and now you’re both blushing. “It’s been good.”

Great. Now you’re thinking about Jeongguk and his cock again. Obviously it’s not unwelcome but riling you up is getting too easy.

“Then that’s good,” Jimin says. You hear the blow of the whistle. A congregation of fist bumps forms at the exit of the rink, and Jeongguk lets everyone pass him to get off. “Well I’m gonna go get ready for some free food. See you, yeah?”

He offers a high-five you hit hard. “Bye.”

“Oh. And good luck on your paper. You coming to the game by the way?” Jimin asks. He jumps off the bleachers, leaving you to stare at your honest attempt at getting work done. You close your laptop with a sad click.

“I have an awards ceremony that day,” you explain. “I’ll try and catch it.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Just then, Jeongguk runs up behind Jimin not at all silently—his gym bag is ginormous—to catch him in a headlock. “Wha—”

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend,” Jeongguk interrogates. He’s probably wet with heat because Jimin scrunches his nose and shoves him off.

“You’re a pig, did you even shower.”

“Smell my armpits and you’ll get your answer.”

“Anyway,” Jimin groans. “I’m off.” He walks to the changing room in a swagger so calculated you’d yell at him for showing off his ass. But Jeongguk drags your attention away when he steps in front of the bleachers, leaning over until you greet him with a kiss.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says against your mouth.

You plug your nose for effect. “So you didn’t shower.”

“I rinsed! Don’t be mean.” He watches as you shove all your things into your bag, his hand poised for you to give it to him, and inside you falter at his generosity but you shoulder the strap and use his outstretched palm to help you up instead. “I wanted your bag, miss.”

“No, you already have a heavy one.”

“Let me carry it for you—” But you shut him up with a tiptoe and a peck to his open mouth. “Don’t distract me!”

You ignore him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the exit. “Let’s go, I might miss my bus.”

Eight p.m. is a dead hour on campus grounds. You see only a handful of straggling students going back to res, even more going into the library building. The lamps guide your every step. Jeongguk’s fingers tangle in yours. “So you aren’t free at all the rest of the week right?”

“Yeah.” You try not to look at him because you know he’s pouting. “I didn’t get any work done thanks to your shouting.”

“That was Yoongi,” Jeongguk defends. “And sorry.”

You reach the bus shelter. “I’m kidding.” The neon sign overhead says your bus is due in three minutes. “I’m—I like going to your practice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing my star hockey player tear it up on the ice,” you joke. Jeongguk laughs into your lips when he bends down lock them with his own.

“Was it sexy enough for you?”

“Oh yeah. Got my pussy rumbling.”

He balks. “You’re so annoying.”

Two minutes. “It’s starting again.”

“What is?” In the dark light of the evening moon rising, you are reminded of this bus shelter seven months ago. A tower of nerves over you. If you think hard enough, you can still hear the shaky question he’d let dangle from his tongue, the one that has you here with him now. But now Jeongguk is nervous for different reasons. “Oh, like when you disappear on me for like five years.”

You see the light of the bus coming. You wrap Jeongguk in your arms. “Yeah. I’m only free next week.”

“Take it easy,” he says. Only one person gets off at the stop. “Just text me. Don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Last time—a month into your relationship. When you texted him every four days because of your midterms and he’d gotten so worried he genuinely wept when you showed up to his doorstep. It was a good thing you’d brought food too; not that you were expecting a cry fest but he’d felt better once he was filled with fried noodles and your affection. You concede to his request with a nod.

He lets you leave with one last kiss to your forehead. “See you,” you say. The air is alive with what you have to leave behind for the time being.

The week is rough. Professor Kwon asks you to submit marks sooner than you anticipate, so the need to get your paper done becomes a lot more urgent. One student hasn’t even handed in her assignment, which—fine. You don’t have any qualms about the zero you input. But the angry email with the threat to report you to an academic advisor the next day has you so on edge Namjoon agrees to grade half your assignments next time.

Jeongguk, somehow, eludes you too. Graduate school demands more tears than sweat and blood and while he tries his best to comfort you during your work-filled days, he’s been getting busier with hockey practice too. The added thought of starting to study for your exams is just another cake-topper. And it isn’t as if you’re going days without talking to Jeongguk, but it’s still a sting to the romantic part in you that misses him.

A week and a half before your big paper is due is a Tuesday. The girl who dissed you in your email doesn’t show up to tutorial. Everyone is dismissed for the evening. It’s good.

Nothing beats the giddy jump in your step when you find a cubby in the library close enough to an outlet, though.

Then you get a text from Jeongguk.

[8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m free the rest of the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me love u bich u really deprived me of touch for an entire week [8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wya

He meets you at the library with sweaty bangs and indents on his cheek from his helmet. You briefly contemplate jumping him. The feeling is quelled with the reminder that the library doesn’t tolerate loud noises and Excessive Romantic Gestures, so you opt for:

“Sexy.” You’re up on your feet to give him a quick hug and he makes a disgruntled face before dropping a kiss to your mouth.

“You wet yet?”

You glare to hide the need to balk. You plop back down. “You ate pussy once, don’t think this gives you free points to get so cocky.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

“Sit. And don’t—ask me that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jeongguk cowers into the seat next to you. “What’s my scholar up to tonight?”

“Researching about Western Europe and their refugee policies.”

He doesn’t look like he’s interested but he makes a contemplative noise. “Very… educated. But anyhow. I’ve been thinking.” Uh oh. “And I have something. It was a week-long thought process but I have it.”

Your pens roll along the wood of the desk. “Have what?”

“A plan.”

“For?”

“For how I’m gonna fuck you. Eventually, I mean.”

“I leave you for a week and this happens,” you answer, but he’s not fazed. You feel yourself melting. Something you learned about Jeongguk during the preliminary stages of your relationship was that he liked getting things right. And if that meant practicing until he was ready—well. There’s a part in you that fears for the livelihood of your vagina. “Babe. That’s—you know we don’t need some sort of… five-steps-to-success thing.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He pouts like you have it all wrong. Maybe you do, but it doesn’t sound so convincing to your—to be frank—non-virgin ears. “Good practice.”

You knew he would say that. “You have something in your noggin already, boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “What do people normally establish before they start having sex?”

“Well I don’t have lice in my pubic hair if that’s what you wanna know,” you offer.

He scrunches his face. “Don’t—joke about that.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk gives you an incredulous look because you both know you don’t mean it. “But you really wanna do this here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Wait—really?”

You’re starting to think you won’t get any work done for the night. Like all the nights you spend with Jeongguk and you realize the pattern now, so you might as well indulge in him. “Yeah, go pull on all your pornographic roots.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not into getting tied up, first of all.” You flip a page in your textbook to feign nonchalance as Jeongguk wheezes.

“Stop that!” But he just takes a piece of paper and readies a fist to write. “You’re so crude.”

Now you really can’t focus. “Are you seriously going to write about my sexual preferences?”

“No, I’m writing a detailed observation about how to go about. You know.” He purses a lip in thought. “Navigating the ocean of your pussy and its desires.”

You didn’t think the library would be home to both of your sexual awakenings, but Jeongguk makes it hard to be shy when he’s this motivated. “Weird way of asking me if I’m into watersports.”

“Okay you have to take back asking me about my pornographic roots because it sounds like you’re the freakier one.”

“You like me being freaky?”

He reddens. “Anyway!” (Silently, you revel in your power to tease.) “I was thinking. Since we can’t hang out too much the next week-ish, that we save all the good stuff for later.”

Good point. “Define good stuff.”

Jeongguk gets smaller. Eyes drilled into yours, he whispers, “Putting my penis inside you.”

“Okay now it’s getting weird.”

He drops his pencil in disbelief. “Only now? Tell me how any of this wasn’t weird in the first place.”

“You’re literally the one who took out a pencil to jot down my sexual preferences, don’t act like you’re innocent.” Now he has the decency to look sheepish. He doesn’t say anything. “Jeongguk. It’s fine to be nervous. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

You might as well be talking to the wall but he nods anyway. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! Just… you don’t owe anyone anything.” Something in you longs for him to understand that. You hate to make him nervous but Jeongguk is so adamant you almost want to wrap him in your arms from the sexually-inclined horde that came in the form of Park Jimin. “Remember that.”

He deflates with a sigh. “Then… can you come over tomorrow?” He’s squirming. “I’m done practice at seven.”

“If my advisor’s nice enough she’ll let me off at six,” you confirm.

Jeongguk takes a notebook out but makes no effort to open it. “And. I missed you. Just. Wanted to get that out there.”

There’s only so much texting can do, you get it. The pit of your stomach simmers with affection for the dumb boy sitting next to you, legs jumping the way they do when he’s nervous. “Love you.” And he smiles. Fuel for your listlessness. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. Especially about the one who just propositioned you with absurdities. But now his pencil is out, and the moment is lost.

You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later. For now, you settle in the quietude of his presence with yours.

It’s a colder day today.

“Hi!” Taehyung opens the door, bouncing in his pyjamas from the rush of freezing air. “Come, come. Please don’t ask me how I’ve been, I’m so tired of school and that’ll be my answer and I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallow your pleasantries down. He’s a stressed Neuroscience major. “Fair,” you greet instead, toeing your boots off.

“Coming from somewhere?”

“Tutorial evaluation,” you say. Taehyung lets out a low whistle, closes the door behind you. He knows your shoulders are stiff because of Professor Kwon’s watchful gaze. Sitting at the back, ramrod straight with that black clipboard, taking down notes on your performance as a first-time TA.

She’d let you go after with a smile, though. Let you know you did fine. You’d practically glided to residence when she’d given you the go to leave for the day.

“I have a question for you,” Taehyung says. He sits on the couch, watches as you take off your snow-soiled scarf and jacket. “Has Jeongguk been more… fidgety lately?”

So he’s noticed too. “Yeah, I’ve—seen it. Why?”

“I don’t know, he sort of just—” Taehyung scoots over when you plop down next to him— “he came out of the room yesterday squealing, then ran around the living room for a bit then just. Went back into his room.”

Oh. So that’s what he was off to do when said he needed to get something after you linked him to your favourite porn accounts on Twitter.

“Maybe it’s just. I don’t know, pre-game jitters,” you lie. Taehyung’s giving you the look. Like he’s not satisfied with your answer and the only way to sate him is if you let him do one thing. “You can ask.”

“Did you fuck him yet?”

No reservations. As expected, because he’s just as nosy as Jimin and the rest of their friends annoyingly concerned with Jeongguk’s hesitation in the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Okay but like—can you fuck him already? I’m gonna be rolling in my grave by the time his penis passes the two-inch border of your personal space.”

You can’t keep in your snort. “Oh my god.”

“Just. We really don’t mean to be so standoffish but he just likes you so much it’s insane. Like I’ll see his phone light up and he will too. He’ll literally—he just glows. It’s kind of creepy actually but like. Cute creepy.”

The rush of praise runs through you. You don’t like to brag, but you really did snag the campus boy crush. You were popular enough with academia, but after the first time Jeongguk posted a picture of you two at the Christmas market, though—the entire student body went ballistic. It was the nascence of a fairy tale; movie romance budding in the grey concrete of campus grounds.

No one saw it coming. And knowing that the one everyone has their eye on has its eyes on you—it’s a good kind of blow.

“He’s my baby,” you say, and Taehyung coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

There’s a rattling of the door knob. The sight of a ragged Jeongguk stumbles in, gym bag dropped on the floor and he disappears down the hall with the call for a shower and a brief smile your way. “I’ll be five minutes, babe.”

That’s Taehyung’s cue. “Well—I’m off to study group. Take care of him, yeah?”

“You know it.” You offer a fist bump. Taehyung’s knuckles are bony on yours.

The trek to Jeongguk’s room isn’t unfamiliar. You bounce back on his bed, willing yourself not to close your eyes because you know you’ll just crash. A headache prepares right behind your temple, as imminent as rumbling thunder. Something in you calls for Jeongguk to hurry the fuck up before you succumb to Stress and those horrible, horrible thoughts of due dates.

It doesn’t take that long. There’s the squeak of the shower handle turning off and the black of your closed eyes, the scurrying of an unseen body; the lifting of your shirt for a very heavy weight of a hockey player blowing raspberries into the skin of your stomach. Jeongguk chortles when you nearly break your back trying to dislodge him. “You’re—oh my god—hey stop!”

“Hi,” he says, laugh caught in his breath, “I’m clean.”

“I see that.” He’s in his pyjamas. You let him settle on your side. The lingering heat from his shower makes you clammy but you let him hold you tight. “How was practice?”

“It was nice.” This is code for: I wasn’t yelled at by Yoongi. “I’m excited for our game, I’m feelin’ good. Did you find out if you could make it?”

You were blessed by the gods, because not only were your days coinciding, they were also starting an hour within each other. You’d be at the podium with a flowery speech while Jeongguk tears the ice rink with his pretty skates. And if every award recipient’s was longer than a minute then you might miss the entire game. Two hours past Jeongguk most likely scoring the winning goal; an infinity lost to see your star in action.

(And seeing Jeongguk play is really attractive.)

You settle with: “I’ll try my best.”

“Okay,” he says. The crown of his head digs into your neck. You feel his lips when he speaks. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely.”

“Did you get your paper done?”

“Barely.”

“So it’s done.”

“Let’s not talk about school,” you dismiss. He leaves the conversation to wither with a suction to your skin. Wet where he lines your neck with quick kisses and you soften into the sheets. “Is this your way of—executing your plan.”

“Hm?”

“You know—your—guide to putting your penis inside me.”

He leans up on his elbow. Unimpressed because his eyebrows are scrunched. “Funny.”

“You love me.”

“And what about it?” His eyes shine the way they do before he tells you he loves you too. “It isn’t even a plan it’s just—a buildup. To when my penis goes inside you. Like a countdown but with orgasms instead.” You snicker. He drags a light hand down your front, settling his palm right over your pussy. “Let me touch you.”

You forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah—I’m—yeah. Please.”

“Sit up.” Jeongguk plants himself near the wall, not unlike the position he was in when you sucked his dick for the first time. Instead of the afternoon heat, you’re caught under the dying evening rays of sunset: not as hot but still you feel the spark in your belly when Jeongguk lifts your bum to settle you between his legs. His nails play with the button of your pants. “I wanna try something.”

“Sure.” And he helps you wiggle off your clothes, bottom bare to his graces. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth meet yours slowly, tasting the day off your tongue, your worries behind his teeth.

“Anyone ever fingered you so hard you cried?”

“You wanna make me cry?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jeongguk nips at your lip. “But yeah, I guess.”

You’re wet. This is a fact you come to realize when you feel him spread your legs, feet planting in the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself. “Okay,” you agree.

His mouth’s busy with yours, lips unyielding like he could do this all day. It’s almost picturesque, the way he has you: head turned over to meet him in his love, arms wrapped around your own. Yours for him to savour and he always tastes good.

He doesn’t wait anymore. Your clit throbs with the passes of his fingers, head falling back to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder when he dips in the pool of your heat and drags it back up. Groaning when he spins tight circles like you taught him and your hands find his thighs. “Feels—good,” you utter. Already you’re gone but Jeongguk feeds into your pleasure with no qualms for your embarrassment.

“Can I—put in a finger?” He asks shyly, but playing with your slick like he’s known how to make you putty in his hands this whole time.

“Yeah. Please.” You welcome the insistence in your sex with the buck of your hips. Jeongguk curls his middle finger up, the heel of his hand smooth on your clit and you sigh, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

He kisses your cheek. “Another one?”

“I can take it,” you say, and he has another finger in you, hooking into your nerves. You might moan but Jeongguk turns your head and molds his mouth into yours, stealing your breath with his tongue. He curves in a little too hard and you squeal. “Oh my god, too—much.”

“Sorry.” He adjusts, fingers straight again. “M’gonna go faster, if that’s okay.” You nod, restless, and then he adds: “And you can’t look away from me.”

“Yes please—”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, because the hand not fucking you into oblivion catches your cheeks, locking you to Jeongguk’s gaze. It’s a fucked out one too, and now you notice his hard dick pressed up against your back.

It’s a storm of thrusting: wet and more wet and now he abruptly pulls out, smears your slick on your clit in a rub so fast you would squeal louder if it weren’t for his lips swallowing your sounds.

“Oh-h—!”

You burn. Jeongguk enters you again and your cunt feels swollen. Fucking all the deepest and dirtiest parts of you and you take it, yielding to the draw on your tight walls. The squelch gets louder. So do you.

“Oh yeah—” And you don’t cry but the feeling of him inside is so overwhelming and all that you need and it’s there— “Fuck, y-eah. Gonna cum soon—”

“Give it to me.” Punctuated with a twist in your sex so rough you would have twitched him off but his legs cage you. Jeongguk smiles. “Come on babe—”

“Nnn—ha J-Jeongguk—” You grab his wrist, the one knocking his fingers so good though he doesn’t stop under the tight hold— “B-Baby—”

“I want it, I want it,” he chants into your mouth, like he’s eager for a release conducive to your early death just so he can say he did that. Awful cocky but you can’t dwell on it. “Just cum for me.”

“Fuck—” He makes you look at him when you do, eyes wide to his imploring ones. He has it in his fingers, a climax that wrangles the most obscene noises from your throat. Your hips grind up uncontrollably, clit a pulsing pain but his thumb rubs it all the same. Jeongguk doesn’t stop till you whine, “God, please—I can’t."

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.” But you feel the sting of heat in your eyes. Jeongguk rubs his nose with yours, wrapped in his arms and affection.

“Was it good though?”

“Was it good, he says.” You kiss him with no bite. “Loved it. Best ever.”

Jeongguk lights up, corners of his mouth lifted into a sated grin. “Woo,” he says. You’re about to ask if he wants one rubbed out but he continues speaking. “So plan’s going well if you wanted to know.”

“Shut up. Shut up!” You make a point of getting up with as much force as possible, disturbing the coils the mattress as Jeongguk laughs. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me.”

Your panties are sticky against you. You turn to see him staring at you already. “I love you.”

The room glows in the last few minutes of red, coated darker and darker. But the look Jeongguk gives you—maybe astonishment, maybe longing—casts a glow that blazes within. Like all he wants is for you to be here and you do too. He breaks the silence with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You climb back over him, unable to resist anymore. “So I’ve been told.”

“I mean it though.” He shifts so you’re lying down again, head on his chest. Warm again. “Sorry if I’m—pushing the agenda. And I know I say Jimin’s not getting to me and it’s true but it—makes me want you. All the time.”

You settle for the truth with a kiss to his sternum. “I have no free time after today though.”

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers. “Just love me now and you can always love me later.”

“I can do that,” you say.

He lets you dig into his side even further. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about school?”

“Mm.” You know it’ll help to air your dirty laundry. But knowing Jeongguk has his own shit to deal with is enough for you to hesitate. “Nothing I—haven’t said before. Just stressed.”

“About your last assignment?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re smart. And for whatever reason, really into baby-making in foreign countries.” Jeongguk groans when you pinch him. “But I know you. And you’ll do well. Also it’s official that you’ll do well because you’re dating someone really good at what they do, and I was just inside your body so technically my energy transferred to you.”

“Very solid process.”

His breathes warmth into your skin. “Believe me. You’re gonna be fine.”

And it’s not the end of the world, not being able to see him for a bit. You both know this. You hug him tighter to you regardless, like making his skin stick to yours was an actuality. You know he feels it too when his arm locks just a tiny bit harder. An unspoken longing for the mold of your body.

You’ll get there.

It’s been four days since you’ve seen Jeongguk, so Namjoon takes the responsibility of keeping you sane. He books a study room for three hours and meets you with a two cups of coffee and three extra pens just in case they run out while you mark your assignments together. He takes the stack of papers from you with a frown, and you work.

The paper is coming along well. You think you have a good five pages to go, but the amount of hounding Professor Kwon has done is scaring you into another late night-in. More and more marks are due, and Namjoon has his own work to deal with. You hate to burden him with your own but now you’re really feeling the Stress from school.

[6:01 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey what are you doing [6:02 PM] You: i’m doing work :(( [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Poo poo [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m bored [6:03 PM] You: 💩💩 [6:03 PM] You: sorry bout it !!!!!!! [6:04 PM] You: wait how can u be bored ur @ practice ?? if ur just…. doin practice [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On break [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: And I miss you [6:06 PM] You: omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [6:06 PM] You: my heart

Namjoon’s eyebrows are scrunched. “I can’t tell what this student is saying.”

“Read it out loud.”

“I will argue that the legalization of crack cocaine will act as a beneficial potential towards the bettering of society. With the advent of legal marijuana usage in Canada—yeah.”

“That’s… an abuse of thesaurus privileges,” you comment.

He hums. “They’re young, let them live.”

Again, Jeongguk texts you.

[6:09 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When are you free [6:10 PM] You: tonight [6:10 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m not 😩😩 What about Wednesday? [6:11 PM] You: i’m only free rn baby :( might have to wait till after friday [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Damn [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I need to go now text me when you’re done k?????? Love you [6:13 PM] You: okay ! 💜

You hear Namjoon snapping at you. “You’re getting distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your pen twitches in your grip. This is your third cup of coffee. “Just—need a goddamn break.

You can sense Namjoon’s nerves grating too. “I get it.” He looks at his watch. “Well. We need to leave in five minutes.”

You graded almost all of your half of assignments. You let yourself breathe a sigh of accomplishment, clearing your work into your bag. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Buy me lunch someday and we’ll call it even,” Namjoon says. He swipes the papers your way to collect. “And by the way—” he takes one last sip of his coffee— “I caught wind that one of the Commissioner-Generals is coming to the ceremony.”

You stare. “From which agency?”

“No clue. But I just thought you should know.”

Of course he would. The one time you don’t clear your search history and now Namjoon is up your ass helping you find any potential global PhD programs. And it wasn’t unimaginable either, some higher-up coming to see the semester-end awards the department heads organized, and the student chair had a lot of say in it, current one being Kim Namjoon: a lobbyist, a smart guy, and Twitter-sort-of-famous for being really damn loud about inequality.

But they’re probably not recruiting me, you think. Best not to get your hopes up lest it go to a well-deserved head who apparently doesn’t get distracted by the potential of finally squeezing their boyfriend’s dick.

Namjoon sighs. “Hey, isn’t the ceremony the same day as the game?”

“Yep,” you confirm. For a split second, an image of Jeongguk giggling pops up into your head.

“Do you think you’ll make it?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, standing outside the door until Namjoon turns off all the lights. “I’m gonna try.”

The hallway to the main entrance of the Humanities wing is quiet. “Speaking of the game. Any intel about your current… predicament?”

“Jimin?”

“Jimin.”

“About Jeongguk?”

“About Jeongguk.”

“Fuck,” you murmur. And you thought he’d be kind enough to keep your secret, but Namjoon is to Jimin like a big is to a little except they’re both too posh to be in a frat. “Not really. And stay out of it.”

“I will,” he says. He opens the door, winter wind as brutal as ever. You think about Jeongguk walking you to the bus stop but he’s probably already back at his dorm. You shiver. “But if I catch you distracted on your phone again I might have to ask.”

You cower into embarrassment.“Sorry.”

Namjoon waves you off. “Just get home safe, yeah?”

Getting home isn’t that bad; late enough for the absence of the rush hour crowd and you get to sit on the bus the rest of the ride. You all but book it to your place to escape the frost nipping at your cheeks and into the nest of your textbooks. Plans to demolish at least a tiny bit of your not-so-tiny pile of work come to a stand-still when you hear your phone vibrate.

[7:46 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey did u finish yet [7:46 PM] You: fuck sorry forgot to text [7:46 PM] You: yeah i did, i just got home [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: That’s good [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?? [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please say no [7:48 PM] You: ….. [7:48 PM] You: why [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The plan [7:50 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Still building [7:50 PM] You: should i be scared [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t ask, and I’m a good boy, so [7:52 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can I send you a picture of my dick?

A boot hangs limply from your toes from when you were trying to tug it off. Dumbly, you’re gaping. Gaping at this transition from shy Jeongguk to… whatever the fuck this was. The pulsing of your sex betrays your shock.

It’s not like things were changing fast, either. That moment in his bed—after he fucked you with his fingers—was the last time you’d been together. A solid evening of knotted arms and Jeongguk’s breath down your neck. He’d only let you go because your complaints to do homework got too loud for him to sleep properly, and you left him in his room like that: heavy-eyed and full of low murmurs for you to come back.

“You’ll miss me, right?” He’d asked. It sounded so innocent. Looked like it too when he stood next to you as you slipped on your shoes. The answer was easy.

“Duh.”

And it wasn’t like you weren’t affectionate. Sure, gaining the impulse to hug and squeeze him was one you had to work up to, but this came with new relationships, that novelty of being someone else’s: one that Jeongguk had no problems getting used to. Took you a little longer to warm up to his kisses in public but you’re here now. Here, slack-jawed at this distant intimacy. Feet mired in your shock, on the carpet of your front door.

You don’t remember feeling this desperate for Jeongguk before.

[7:54 PM] You: i [7:54 PM] You: definitely wouldn’t be opposed

You lock your screen fast. Fling your shoes off, slap your jacket onto a hanger. You nearly bust your bedroom down in your hurry to get the fuck on the bed, like the rush of a late night with a stranger but Jeongguk is wholly familiar and isn’t even here to touch you. The ding of your phone is enough to keep you on your toes. You don’t swipe yet because already you’re sweating.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo and 2 Messages

Should you take your clothes off? Or is he supposed to ask you to do that? Should you ask? What the fuck. This was too much.

You open it. It takes one second to download.

That’s his dick. Jeongguk’s dick, flash on, held up by the tips of his fingers at the base like he knows his angles. The tip is flushed with a wetness you’d lick right up if you were there just to feel the way he shivers under you.

[7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby I’m so hard [7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna kiss you all over

You squeal.

This was your boyfriend, mister-campus-hotboy, the one literally everyone got hard over and now he’s sending you his own personal dick pics. Maybe you do need to thank the high heavens one day because

What

The

Fuck is going on.

No matter.

[7:57PM] You: i want u to [7:57PM] You: want u on top of me [7:57PM] You: with ur lips on my neck [7:58PM] You: getting me wet. u always make me. wet

You can’t wait anymore. Your shirt is off, bra tossed, back bare on your sheets. You shimmy out of your pants just as Jeongguk texts back.

[7:58PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fcurck baby [7:59PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can’t stop thinnking abt u [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The way u sounded [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When I was e ating u out [8:01PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: u tasted so good on m y tonguel fucckkkk [8:01PM] You: are u jacking off rn ??? [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yess [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Touch urself [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please?

Panties come off. It’s not a surprise when your finger is soaked in your arousal, teasing your clit and you sigh.

[8:02PM] You: fuck im so wet [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yeah??? [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: What r u thinkgnin about [8:03PM] You: your mouth [8:04PM] You: on my tits [8:04PM] You: my cunt [8:04PM] You: u got me off sooo good [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fuucckckk baby [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re so hot ho ly shit [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Want u so bad [8:06PM] You: how??? [8:06PM] You: u already treat me so good [8:06PM] You: maybe i’’ll take care of u now hm? ?? [8:07PM] You: mymouth on ur dick [8:07PM] You: taste so good [8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Shit

Everything was jumping out of your head so quick your one hand couldn’t keep up. The two fingers on your pussy dipped again, jolts of sweetness straight through your nerves when you rub yourself faster. Focusing on his texts was as easy as trying to stave your orgasm off, which… really wasn’t going too well, pelvis meeting the palm of your hand in a desperate kick.

[8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Take your clothes off [8:09PM] You: past that

It takes him a minute.

[8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Could you send a pic [8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Pleas e

Oh. Okay.

You lean up on your elbow, push your chest against your bicep in the hopes that your cleavage could somewhat be evocative enough in the weak light of your phone. (You notice you forgot to turn the lights on.) The picture cuts off right above your nipples, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do that just for the possibility of a desperate plea. You lie back down.

Sent.

[8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: urruhguhgkehrdhfg [8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby pleease I want more [8:14PM] You: of what ??? [8:14PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: FUck [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I want you [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On top of me [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Grnding yuor pretty pussy on my dick [8:16PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re wet ik ur wet

Of course he would. He knows your body better than ever before, and you might tease him but the throbbing you’re attending to is too much of a distraction.

[8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can you imagine that [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Teasig my cock into you [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I won’t putnit in yet [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Bc I want u squirming o n top of me [8:18PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ik u don’t beg [8:19PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I would ask u anyway if u want me to sink u down on my cock

Oh my god. The soft sucking sound of your fingers inside your cunt isn’t enough to drag you out of this reverie. It just sinks you deeper into this bliss Jeongguk spells out for you so well. He has you like putty. Your knuckles curve you into a hopeless whimper.

[8:20PM] You: i want that [8:20PM] You: iwa nt that so bad pleas [8:21PM] You: let me feel your dick inside [8:21PM] You: u want that so bad baby [8:21PM] You: to feel me squeezing around u [8:21PM] You: im so tight and wwt [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna hear u [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ft [8:22PM] You: just call

You don’t think you could handle seeing his dick now. Especially when the build in your pussy is this close to tipping you into a climax he probably wants to hear.

Your phone blares in the quiet. “Baby—”

“I’m so close,” Jeongguk says. He sounds like he’s panting. “Tell me you are too. Please—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp.

“Y-Yeah.” You burn in his desperation, curling into your cunt in the spot you know would have you keeling over. “Ngh—!”

“I wanna hear you. Wanna—hear you when I fuck you. So—good.”

“Oh fuck—”

“You want that too baby?”

You heave. “Yes!”

“Let me hear you cum. Please. I’m so fucking close—”

“Jeongguk!” You sputter, moaning loud, crying in the extremity. It zips through your core, has you reeling, legs shaking as you rub it out so hard you arch from your bed. You barely register Jeongguk’s own completion.

“Fuck I’m cumming—shit!” He groans, long, noisy on the line but the image of his cum onto his hands has your stomach clenching. Clobbered by his own doing and it’s almost endearing how fucked out he sounds. There’s a moment where you hear fumbling, a distant breath; shifts in the mattress probably. “Baby…”

Your phone lights up again.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo

You don’t hesitate this time.

His dick is wet, probably with his spit, but now his entire first is closed around it, dregs of his cum pooling in the suction of his palm against the pink skin. The urge to put your mouth on him is so over-whelming you groan in frustration.

“Want it in my mouth,” you say.

“You’ll make me hard again,” Jeongguk murmurs with a laugh.

It’s just past 8:30. “So. What got you so hard that had you begging for me over the phone?”

“Hm.” You move until you’re under the covers. A makeshift warmth because you don’t have Jeongguk to cuddle you for post-sex softness. “I don’t know. Just missed you. Again. Sorry if you had work to do.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah I’m not.” You think you hear him in the washroom. The vent is loud. “Made a mess.”

“Not my fault.”

“Uh, it kinda was. Hoping for more nipple next time.”

“Now you’re asking for too much,” you sigh. There’s a sleepy pull in your head, dragging you through the waves of feelings that currently bombard your heart. “I miss you too. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“I have a bruise on my ass! Oh my god I forgot to tell you. But Hoseok checked me so hard for no fucking reason and—boom. Landed right on my booty.”

You coo. “Aw. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please, it’s on my fatter butt-cheek I think.”

It dies down again. “So what stage are we at for your build-up?”

“Close to the finale.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. There’s only three days left till your prospective hells come to a head. Then it’s back to loving Jeongguk but closer to him this time, not through the cracked screen of your phone. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk says. “Guess—I should leave you to your work?”

As much as you want to say no, the pile of essays on your desk is calling for your ass to get moving. It sends a quick ripple of nervous tension down your spine but the sooner you get it done the sooner it is to texting Jeongguk again. You know he’s impatient too. “Yeah. Might stay up.”

“Not too late, okay? You’re almost there. And make that tea I bought you, it’s supposed to help with your headaches.”

You’ll cry. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re gonna sleep.”

You’re probably ovulating because a tear really does slip over your cheek. The stickiness between your thighs rubs your skin when you finally get up, avoiding the offensive stack of work in your periphery when the hints of a new headache start to come up.

Jeongguk probably knew you were heading straight into another painful night of working. There’s a tin of loose leaf tea sitting patiently for you in your cupboard. And maybe taking on the teaching position wasn’t such a good idea, but then again, dates where everything loomed over you were inevitable. School’s a bitch. But you have an attractive boy waiting for you to finish, and that’s what prompts you to face the music. One more time.

Three more nights.

The first night is actually okay. You get a page and half done, and Namjoon checks in with a text in the evening to make sure you aren’t pulling your teeth out. Jeongguk has practice the whole day.

During the second night, you forget to save one of the articles you cited, and you spend a frantic hour searching through all your sources to trace it back. It’s a painful process and you almost cry, but you text Jeongguk and he sends you a selfie of him sending you a thumbs up. Your phone lags trying to scroll through the gigantic box of of hearts he texts you. You find the article. It’s good.

Third night and you’re about ready to give up. Jeongguk and Namjoon are both out of commission because apparently the universe hates all of you and you’re all busy with your respective work. But you have a page to conquer, and the onus is on you to show up with nice skin tomorrow because the department likes to take pictures to post online. The tea Jeongguk got you steams as you type diligently.

One

Word

Andit’sdone.

“Oh god,” you whisper to yourself. You scroll through your paper, making sure all your citations are right. Page numbers there. No excessive use of the first-person, your professor’s name spelt correctly. Formatted correctly.

It’s done.

You bask in the harsh light of your desk lamp, weight lifted off your shoulders the instant you save your document to submit online.

The assignment page loads, and you hit the button.

The line of your phone rings twice.

“Hello?” Jeongguk groans. It’s three in the morning. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I FINISHED I SUBMITTED IT IT’S IN!” You yell. A genuine rise in your throat that has Jeongguk whooping with as much energy as his sleep-ridden voice can allow on the other side of the line.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna hop on your dick right now.”

Jeongguk just snickers. Your eyebrows raise, because for sure he would’ve been choking. But maybe it’s because he’s tired. “Don’t tempt me into a boner, it’s too early for this.”

“Fuck—sorry. You have your game. Okay I’ll hang up. I’m gonna—sleep. Try to. Okay I love you! Sorry bye!”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You knock out the second your light is off and your head hits the pillow.

You asked Namjoon earlier in the day to call you awake because your ringtone is more annoying than your alarm. And even though the ceremony is later in the evening, you’re scared that you’ll sleep the entire day away.

Jeongguk texts you before you’re up. A congratulatory message, and another saying that he’ll be at practice the whole day so he’ll try to text you at lunch. But the afternoon sun sees no text from him and you know it’s because he’s sweating his balls off on the hockey rink. Stubborn like you know he is but now you miss him again.

One thing that sticks in your head the rest of the day: the thought of it being over. Because once you get your awards and hopefully get to see the end of the game, you get Jeongguk to yourself again. Two weeks of agonizing to get to this point all but crashes into your loins to spark a frighteningly hot fire, and now, once again, you’re left to fantasize about Jeongguk’s dick. You force yourself not to dwell on it too much, makeup a risk to your fidgeting and if the reason why you have an ugly picture up online is because you were longing for dick then—well.

It’s Namjoon who greets you when you get to the conference hall downtown.

“You look good,” is all he says.

You stick your tongue out at him. You had to redo your lipstick twice. “Shut up.”

He leads you to where he was sitting: the massive table stuck in the middle with the microphones sticking up along the perimeter. Maplewood and entirely unfitting for the green carpet, though Namjoon beats you before you can say anything mean. “If you look up front, that’s the Commissioner-General I was talking about.”

You look. She’s a petite woman, scarily thin, wearing a bright scarf. “Yoon Soomin,” you recognize.

“Correct.”

“Namjoon!” You hit his shoulder, and he winces with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I knew you’d get stressed!”

Well he’s goddamn right you’re stressed now. Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of one of the programs you had your eyes on for the past year now. Applications are open next week. You’ve had yours done for a solid six months, and now the head of the program is right here. In the flesh. Watching you about to get your award.

The chatter of all the other students is drowned out when the program head gets up for the commencement speech. “Good evening everyone. My name is Bae Joohyun. Thank you—”

Ding.

Namjoon kicks your shin. You silence your phone. It’s Jeongguk.

[7:39PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hi babe hope u had a good day!!! Sorry I got distracted [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I know ur gna win like fifty awards so advanced congrats!!!!!!! Proud of ur big brain [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Love you [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I hope you make it later pls try ur hardest but if u can’t it’s okay but like I would really appreciate if you. Came [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: OJO [7:42PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Heh Taehyung said that looks like me

There’s clapping. You don’t know why everyone’s clapping but you do it too.

[7:42PM] You: pls don’t break any limbs while i am here i won’t be fast enough [7:42PM] You: love u. play smart not hard. i’ll be there for ur final goal 🤪 [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Anything for my scholar [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You r so cute please come soon [7:44PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I have to go now I LOVE You

“I will now invite the Student Chair Kim Namjoon forward to deliver a speech,” Professor Bae says.

No last text to Jeongguk because now you join the applause once more. Namjoon gets up with practiced ease, staggered steps of confidence because if anyone is going to get a PhD first, it’s him. And you know he applied for the program too.

It starts simple: “Thank you for coming today.” A celebratory gathering, gratitude for everyone’s hard work and commitment. A call for everyone to continue being ambassadors for the Humanities. Nothing you haven’t heard before.

“I would also like to announce that the department has decided to award a special recipient tonight for their academic work and contribution to graduate research,” Namjoon continues. “The award will be presented by Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of the Anthropology for the Humanities Global Network. Please give your warmest applause to Doctor Yoon.”

Oh god. Your literal idol because she was just as interested in babies as you were and Jeongguk would for sure be goading you into a frenzy because of your shaking. But you clap as normally as normal clapping goes, and Doctor Yoon takes the mic.

“I’ll just head straight into it,” she says with a pretty smile. You catch Namjoon looking at you. He raises an amused eyebrow, and now you’re suspicious. “It is an honour to call upon ___, for their recent submission of pronatalist work based in Europe for the research study funded by the Global Network.” That’s—you. That’s you, and these are your legs moving on their own accord to the beat of the eager applause. You don’t look at Namjoon but you can hear him, because he’s clapping the loudest. “___ has been recognized before: for an outstanding submission in undergraduate research on cultural genocide, as well as active participation in the Anthropological department.”

Yoon Soomin extends a hand to you, as well as a pretty certificate gilded with bold letters in the form of your name. Again: all offered by Yoon Soomin. Again, you are shaking.

“T—hank you,” you stammer, and her hand is soft in yours and you really just might cry but it’s probably because you’re exhausted. You’d slept for a solid ten hours but no amount of rest would have ever prepared you for her pretty voice congratulating you again. “I—It’s an honour.”

“Picture time,” Namjoon interrupts. He’s got his phone up. “Smile!”

“Congratulations again,” Doctor Yoon says. She grins like she knows something too, and the rest of the ceremony is static in your ears.

Like always, it’s repetition. A name called, award presented. Your name is exhausted three more times, and you’d cower under the attention but you worked too goddamn hard not get to this point. You think of Jeongguk, probably three to none even though it’s only been half an hour into the game. You and Namjoon are practically trembling when Professor Bae dismisses everyone.

Your jacket is on, purse about to swing over your shoulder when someone comes up to you.

“Hello.” Doctor Yoon again. “Oh—are you in a hurry?”

“Not at all,” you rush out. You can feel Namjoon vibrating too. “I—Thank you so much for presenting the award.”

“It was my pleasure. The overseas program application opens next week,” she advises, and you really might scream but you will yourself to stillness. “We don’t know where it’s based yet, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from submitting your application.”

“Oh she’s been interested for years,” Namjoon offers. You elbow him. Doctor Yoon laughs.

“I’m glad to hear that. Keep up the good work!”

You all but skirt around her with a quick thank you again! and make a mad dash out the building and to the underground train because Namjoon sucks and can’t drive on highways yet. “Good thing you didn’t wear heels because you’re so fucking slow.”

“Shut up,” you growl. The people on the sidewalk offer no space for you to slither through, and you grind you teeth with impatience. “And don’t give me shit when I beat you four to one.”

“Not everyone’s into babies like you are, genius.” You reach the closest subway entrance, a seedy staircase down into the dirty cement and your fare is paid with a drop of a coin; running for the departing train and you make it by the wisp of your hair. You sigh into an empty seat, Namjoon right next to you. “Time.”

It’s nearing 9:00. “Oh my god it’s almost done.”

“You’ll make it,” Namjoon says. The jostling ride is another twenty minutes, and you know it’s cutting it short but you promised Jeongguk. He’s so close. You’re out of breath. “So you’re free now, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked hard.”

You scrunch your face in embarrassment. “Thanks Joonie.”

“I mean it,” he says. “No one deserves this more than you. Yeah? Cut yourself some slack.”

“I know—it’s just—I couldn’t be there for Jeongguk as much as I could have—” And it’s all coming out now. There’s only one other person on this cart other than Namjoon so you let yourself have the moment, the breakdown. The awfulness of preoccupation and missing your boyfriend and too much work. You don’t want to cry but the screech of the metal tracks makes it easier to hide. “‘M so fucking tired.”

Namjoon pats your back when you heave. “Two more stops. Then you can curse the gods all you want.”

Good incentive, because once the doors slide open on your stop you book it up the escalator as fast as your fatigue can allow. Luckily campus is right around the corner, cars taking up all the space on the road. Probably all here for the final match of the year, your university against the one a city over, and the cheers are so loud you hear it from the two sidewalks over. “Let’s go let’s go!”

And you and Namjoon run again, down to the set of doors of the arena nestled into the corner of your school. The doors are heavyset but you yank them like you’ll die if you aren’t inside within the next twenty seconds, and it’s only now that you feel the buzz of your phone from a text.

[8:58 PM] Jimin Bimin: I’m on the east side with taehyung, third from the bottom bleacher, mostly in the middle. hurry!!!!!!

Namjoon’s no doubt just following the beeline you make because even you can’t feel where your legs are taking you. All you know is the rush of school pride and the deafening yells of the crowd, lost bits of popcorn on the floor scrunching against your shoes as you search for Jimin. You see Taehyung first: warpaint on his face and he waves you over quickly, scooting over with a pull on Jimin to make room for Namjoon too.

“You made it!” Jimin screams and it still sounds like a squeak with the roar of the people everywhere.

But you ignore this, laser-beaming the rink for that familiar 97. You catch Jeongguk closely following the puck, stick clenched tightly in his fists, legs quick in their glide as the offence. You feel everyone’s bated breath, hands grabbing Jimin’s arm—the other team’s members flying past Jeongguk, the raise of the wood, a slap to the puck—

The red blares. The crowd goes wild.

“HE WON!” Jimin screams and so do you, the wave of excitement passing over you like fairy dust and now everyone’s cheering. You have no idea what went on. But now all the boys off the rink jump over the barrier to grab Jeongguk in a hard throttle, arms tangled around each other, chant lost on your ears but they look so happy.

Somehow, a body breaks away from the huddle, and now they’re skating in your direction.

Jeongguk waves. You smile. A wave back, and now you have each other again.

You wait outside the building, watching as the throngs disperse. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin already said their goodbyes, last felicitations from them both and a promise for lunch from you somehow gets squeezed from the conversation too. The brick is hard against your back.

[9:30PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: WHERE ARE YOU [9:30PM] You: i’m outside already!!

A door bursts open. There’s an inhale, then you turn your head. Jeongguk drops his bag the second you charge for him, arms ready for your attack as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms caught on his neck. You think you hear someone gasp but it’s all lost on you now. “Oh my god I love you,” he breathes, and you cry. “Babe—”

“I watched you,” you sniffle, and you frown when he laughs. “Watched you win.”

“I’m glad.”

You kiss him. “Missed you.”

Jeongguk looks like he might cry too. “Mine again?”

“Yours again.” And you mean it.

“I would—I would invite you over to the after-party but I’m sleepy,” he says in between presses of his mouth, “and I ran out of contact solution the other day so I can’t invite you over and also Taehyung’s probably sleeping right now.”

“Then you come over.” You melt into his tongue, his feet staggering in your grind and he bites your lip.

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, actually get some shut-eye.” He lets you off when you wriggle your ass against his hands, dragging him to the bus stop before he can put them back against your jeans or else you might really fuck him this time. “Because Taehyung snores too loud anyway.”

The ride to your apartment totals eight minutes because it’s late, and living on the edge of the suburbs means no one’s up this late anyhow. Jeongguk hadn’t even let you find a seat, balancing through red lights on his feet just to fly out the door when you’d reached your stop. You’ve already done too much running today but Jeongguk still rushes you up to your floor, and before you can get the key to your door he has you pressed up on it instead.

“Want you,” he says. Hard against your throat like he means it.

“God—let me—open my door and you have me,” you say through your teeth, gritted because the hallways echo and now Jeongguk has his thigh pressed up against you. “Babe let go—”

He does, but only with a lingering kiss promised by your burning attraction. You don’t fumble with the lock but you do stumble in from how quick you open the door, slamming shut in your haste and you hear his duffel bag meet the ground and now your back meets the hard metal again. “You have to stop shoving me into this thing oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. He’s kissing you again. Lifts you up with no warning and you yelp into his curious mouth, dick grinding into the rough of your pants. “Fuck I—”

“Did—you want to—”

“No—wait yes, yes—I just—” He doesn’t let up. You can feel his cock straining against his sweats, flimsy layers you could just shove down but his hips are glued to your own. “I can’t—cum. Right now. Too much. Wind—wound up.”

Your tailbone is starting to dig into the door. “Then let me down and let’s just—sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. One last kiss, nose meeting yours. “Still on my hockey grind.”

“Ew,” you snort. “Also don’t wear your pants to bed.”

“Oh.” He shoves his shoes off when you do.

“I don’t like it when people wear their outside clothes on my sheets.”

“Oh.”

“But it’d be nice to wake up to your dick on my ass,” you add. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, then carries you to bed.

“I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” is the last thing you remember him saying.

The morning rushes in too soon. Your curtains aren’t closed and Jeongguk hogs the blanket, sprawled on your side of the bed no less. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoon but at least his cock is warm with something just as soft as your ass.

You settle in the calm. Jeongguk isn’t one to snore but his soft breaths are just as jarring, disbelief apparent when you realize this is the first time he’s ever slept-over at your place. As convenient as it is to live somewhere that only needed one bus ride, you’re on campus all the time; making sense meant taking up space in his res instead. But now the lump he occupies in your bed is something you think you could get used to.

(Even if he hogs the blanket.)

You’re still in your clothes from last night, but at least you had the decency to shuck off your jeans. And you’d gotten up well past Jeongguk-sleeping-hours to take off your makeup because it took you forever to pry his ridiculously strong arm off around you. You get up with a kiss to his mane of bedhead and a silent reminder to grab an extra toothbrush.

The next plan to execute on your list after washing the tired off: breakfast. And you know you don’t have eggs but you open the fridge like you’ll see the carton sitting there anyway.

You’re standing, coming to a blank for what feels like forever. You think briefly about ordering in, then remember the guilt of just grabbing groceries instead. The internal battle is cut short when you hear the creak of your bed, a long groan. Then, footsteps.

“You look sad,” Jeongguk croaks two seconds later.

You frown for effect. “I want eggs. And why are you up.”

“Come here, egghead.” Jeongguk is groggy. The sexy kind too, because his voice is a tenor that scratches the needier part in you, the one telling you to bury your face in his chest and you do just that. “I felt you move. Sorry I couldn’t wake you up with my dick against your butt.”

“S’ok. And go shower because you’re stinky.”

He lets you go. “Good morning,” he says for the first time. A domesticity you feel lightheaded from. “You should shower with me.”

“Unless you’re scared of detachable shower heads I think you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be cocky,” he whines. “And you’re dirty too, you sweat a lot just like I do.”

That’s true. “But it’s not even a hair washing day.”

“Why are you resisting me, woman.” He brings two hands up, wiggling his fingers. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You will not—”

“I will tickle you and if you don’t shower with me I will cry.”

You huff. “Fine.” He leads you down the hall to the bathroom, satisfied in his quick win, back flexing when he takes his shirt off. “And I’m the cocky one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. You know he’s baiting but you don’t want to resist him anymore. “You need to turn the shower on because I don’t know how to.”

Getting naked is a different kind of intimate when you’re not in the bedroom. You know this because Jeongguk can’t even look your way when you’ve stripped, but you’re shivering like he’s staring. You step into the tub before he can back out. He doesn’t come in till the water’s running.

You like it hot. Jeongguk—not so much by the looks of his hesitation, so you compromise with a slight shift of the knob and a switch in place so he’s under the pelt of water. He’s all hard muscle under your hands. “Hope you like cherry blossom.”

He doesn’t say anything. Grabbing the loofah you spurt your pink soap, lathering it on his chest first. Jeongguk just stares. “I really missed you,” he says.

You nod. Nodding fast to keep yourself from thinking too hard because then you might start getting soft. “Me too,” you croak out. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Jeongguk just brushes his lips against yours in answer. You’ve just reached over his shoulders to get the back of his neck but he forces you back into the tiles, back inundated with cold hardness and there’s no room for complaint when your tits press against Jeongguk’s skin like this. He groans a desperate sound into your pliant mouth. “I—I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You pause. “For what?”

“I don’t—know—I—just having you here again. Makes me want to do everything.”

You are enveloped in mist and so much longing. “Let me finish then we’ll—go back.” You don’t know if you want to focus southward because one look at his dick and you’ll fall to your knees. “Turn around.”

He does. The glass of the divider fogs up in your intimacy. You give a half-hearted scrub along his skin, focusing on the grime you can’t see. Can’t think.

“Okay you know—I think we’re good,” you say, voice tight.

“Come here.” Jeongguk spins to find you again, a hard kiss into you and you feel his dick press up against your stomach. “Towels.”

“Turn off the shower.” You push open the door, shaking legs dripping onto the floor as you scramble to wrap yourself in warmth other than Jeongguk. He grabs the other one, quick passes over his skin before he drops it to the floor and nearly bowls you over to get you out into the bed room.

It’s bright. Jeongguk reads your mind. “Can I—shut the blinds?”

“Please.”

He goes to twist the plastic while you dry off the last remnants of water clinging to your skin, and before you know it Jeongguk has you lain flat across the tangled blankets, legs dangling from the side of the bed. “God I tried really hard to have a normal morning with you but I—just can’t anymore.” He kneels over you. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

You could go on about how quick the one-eighty was. From your thoughts about breakfast to this absolutely insatiable need for your boyfriend to insert whatever valid body part he could use into your pussy. But you and Jeongguk are never conventional, and going too fast is an illusion now.

You have each other again, and no one’s counting the seconds anymore.

“Will you fuck me?” You ask.

“Yes,” he decides, and he unwraps the towel you’d clung onto before pressing downwards and caving into your lips. “I—have never wanted you so goddamn bad in my life, oh my god.”

“Good,” you choke on your breath because Jeongguk slips down your throat with his tongue and a pucker of his lips. “Ah—!”

A bloom of your slick runs through your cunt when he sucks hard on your skin, thumbs a shy presence on your breasts but they peak under the pressure. “You have the cutest tits,” he says.

“Shut up.” You flare with embarrassment. “You can—be more rough.”

Jeongguk twists your nipples and you pant. “Like that?”

“Suck on them too. Make it—hurt.” His eyes flutter, determined in your command. Mouth a hot suction, laving you with his spit. His teeth graze in a bite and you moan. “Fuck—yeah. That’s so good…”

He stays like this: feeding into your sounds with sloppy grips of his tongue, suckling till your tits pop out his mouth and your hands find the nape of his neck in desperation. “Ugh—please—”

Jeongguk slurps on a nipple. “Get up there.”

You scramble up the bed, comfortably nestled in the centre and Jeongguk’s fingers go to spread your pussy, cheeks heating in the sound of wet. He sighs.

“Do you want to cum now?”

You dip your head. “Please.”

He settles on his stomach, diving in to latch onto your clit, sucking that has your head thrown back further with every inch he covers with the jerk of his tongue. Honed in on the dangerous tip that could have you teetering over in a second and your hips pull back, but his hands take your bucking and locks you down to his attention. Too much so and now you wail. “Oh my g—od.”

Curses caught in the grit of your teeth because now he licks the stretch of your cunt like he’s thirsty. Jeongguk’s good at making you want more when you don’t know what means. “Gonna—use a finger.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah.” He curls in and up, a sweet crevice touched. Eyes rolling back as you puff. “Holy fu-uck yeah, finger it.”

“Wanna beg?” He suggests. Challenging.

“You’re asking me to?”

“I’m begging you to,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Then—” you settle up on your elbows, watching the minute thrusts into your cunt like a lazy cartoon— “please use another finger. And—make me cry this time.”

His eyes bulge in your confidence. Pulls out; now there’s two hard intrusions and it digs into a sweeter part inside, a touch that has you keening right into the pillow, drool smearing on the sheet. Clit sitting pretty on his wet tongue and you’d let him have it all day if he asked. Then Jeongguk thrusts in a drill so hard you vibrate. “O-O-Oh my fuuuuuuck—”

He curves into your loudness. “So fucking sexy,” he praises, rushing right through you and onto his fingers. “So wet—”

“Ugh—!” Your sobbing isn’t a tearful one but the scratch in your throat is smarting. Jeongguk swipes right over your nub. Leans up, fingers still a consistent presence and now his tongue is teasing yours, a muscle spasm more than anything and you can’t fucking breathe.

“Sit on my face,” he says.

“You—really?”

“I might cum.” Oh. He looks at you, eyes a wonder of pleasured agony. Probably because he’d been grinding into the sheets like last time but now you’re even more gone.

“Okay,” you gulp, and Jeongguk rolls over. Knees above his shoulders, using his elbows to slide along the mattress till you’re settled comfortably over his eager mouth. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pulls on your thighs until his neck doesn’t strain up anymore, a stretch you can ignore if only to feel the traction of his rough love on your sensitivity. “This is—so hot.”

“Are you—pulling on pornographic roots right now?”

He hums into a suction. “Yeah.”

“What else have you thought about?” You can’t see his entire face from your view, but his forehead is scrunched. Thinking hard for you.

“Nothing—crazy,” he says. He kisses your leaking cunt. “Always wanna make you feel good. But it’d be hot if I choked you, yeah.”

“Oh—”

“Whatever you like,” Jeongguk decides. “I like whatever you like.”

“I would like it if you made me cry,” you contend.

He doesn’t say anything else. Jeongguk squeezes your ass, neck straining to get you dribbling on the tip of his tongue, pleasure pulled from the bottom of your stomach into moaning so loud you’re worried for the thinness of your walls. “Oh my god I’m close—don’t stop—”

Your pussy grinds right into it. His fingers are lax on your skin like he’s given up if it means you feed into your own demise. And you do: grating all your nerves from Jeongguk’s insistence into your sex and your hands tangle into his hair. “Oh fuck I’m—Jeongguk—!”

The feeling settles heavy in your pussy. Taken with a vehemence you’d praise forever and Jeongguk is nothing but passionate, a power translated through all his work and one he insists on when he paints your cunt like it’s his favourite thing to do. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, nearly falling over when his tongue slides like that—

“I’m cumming—oh my god I’m—fuck!”

Your eyes sting. It bursts—starting on Jeongguk’s tongue and spreading so fast you can’t tell up from down. Moans wrenched from your chest and you can’t catch your breath, even when you push yourself off from Jeongguk because you can’t stop riding into it. “Ah—oh fuck.” You’re sniffling.

“Babe wait did I actually make you cry?”

“Yes you idiot, come here.” And Jeongguk crawls over you, kiss-ready, lips wet on yours. “Do you—is it—are you okay? Do you wanna try now?”

“Sure,” he says. “I just—might not last too long.”

“We take it slow,” you say. He nods. “Got condoms?”

Jeongguk looks sheepish but he nods again. “Please don’t ask me why I have them on me.”

“I’m asking why you have them on you.”

He groans. “Let me just—get them from my bag.” And he runs, hard penis and all, outside to the bag he’d left outside in your haste to the bed. He’s not even gone for two seconds before he has the string of foil in his hand. “Remember there was a party last night? Taehyung gave them to me just in case—you know. Something happened.”

“Good friend. Do you—have lube too?”

Jeongguk pales. “No.”

“Come here,” you order instead, because you’re ridiculously wet anyhow. He gets closer, lying down when you push his chest down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna kiss you.”

He lets you. You stay in this moment, a precursor to a new era if you were being dramatic about it. But having him so soft and yielding under you like this makes you want to enjoy it, bit by bit. “I love you,” he says.

You mold into him. “I love you too.” Reaching over for one of the foils, you tear it as Jeongguk stares with a still chest. The condom rolls easily. “Okay?”

“Yep.”

Then you sit on top of him, your own breath caught in the butterflies jumbled in your stomach, a flit when his hands come to rest on your thighs. Nerves tangling with his and you feel the low tremors in his body. Your pussy glides along his dick lying pretty on his stomach. You tangle your hands with his. “Don’t be nervous,” you whisper.

Jeongguk gulps. “Just—kiss me again.”

You lean back down, his hands tightening yours when you meet him again. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are closed. “Yes—yes. You can put it in. Please.”

“Just—say the word and I’ll stop.”

He nods.

There’s a lump in your throat. You want it to be good for him. The griping all his friends did had done a great deal for your sex life, yeah. But the point of his comfort was crossed so many times you feared he’d back out by this time. And now he waits: waits for your go, on your own time, because the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you too. You know it in his attention, his quiet insistence on making you cum first. His patience for you to come back to him. Waiting so that you could get comfortable before he did, because he’s only ever comfortable when you are.

You hold the base of his dick, tip straight below your core, positioned at the height of both your breaths.

You sink down.

It’s a scarcity, to feel this good from the get-go. A prodding that pinches a little stretches you right, Jeongguk’s length gloved in your heat, so much heat because he groans. “Oh my god.”

“Is that—okay?”

“Yes—”

His hands find your hips when your knees drop down even further. Slow, slow, slow; so wet because he makes you feel it—until you bottom out. Jeongguk shivers. “Tell me—when I can move.”

You watch his eyebrows scrunch up, teeth gritting when you shift to ease the weight on your legs. “I’m good. I’m good, please move, fuck.”

You do. You pick up to an easy pace, not straining yourself but enough for the tip of his dick to hit a spot in your gut that has you cooing. Your hands find his chest. “Ooh—fuck yeah.”

“Is it good—for you?” Jeongguk pants, bucking his hips when he watches your tits bounce.

“Yeah. Feels so good…” You trail off, getting used to the feel of something so much thicker than his fingers. A burn you can’t say you haven’t missed, teasing your insides and you squeeze.

“Baby—that—fuck—” He’s sweating. His forehead shines, hair caught on his skin. His chest is a flushed, wet where your palms meet him because you’re getting a little winded now. But the little grunts he lets out every time you bounce is enough to keep you going.

“Do you think—you can cum like this?”

His grin is sheepish. “N-No.”

You opt for a closer grind then. “How do you want me?”

“Your back,” he says, hesitant. “Let me—fuck you from the edge of the bed.”

You can do that. You lift up till his dick lies wet on his belly, sheets a mess under your bum when you let Jeongguk get up to move you the way he wants. He stands, one knee on the mattress as he spreads your legs, pussy served like it’s his to take. Makes a grab for his dick; jostles around a bit on your clit to see your hole tighten, stomach clenched.

He presses in slow just to see you shiver. In control of your pleasure again, and you sigh into the sheets.

“Oh my god.” You grasp the blankets, elbows strong to watch what you now know is the visual of Jeongguk fucking you. A little stilted in his rhythm, but only because he’s getting used to the feel of your pussy like this.

You don’t care for the semantics of proper fucking. As long as his hips meet your ass in the beat you can only call nasty. The squelch of your arousal is loud. “Fuck—baby…”

“Yeah—feels so good.” Buried deep in your walls and maybe you could learn the ridges of his dick like this: lain here for him to use, cunt fit only for his pleasure. A position you’d gladly take everyday from now on because fuck if this isn’t heavenly.

You know he feels it too when his chest picks up in his panting, dick a piston now and you mewl.

“Yeah—faster, baby—like that—!”

“Shit—” Smearing your walls with your own slick, made for him to dirty. A push so vigorous you would be sliding if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s tight hands on you, and all you can do is take it. “Babe I’m close—”

And he bends down, kissing you with a pant into your mouth because he’s getting spent, efforts all going into your pleasure. He still thrusts. “Cum. Cum when you can, fuck.”

“What about—”

You shut him up with another press of your lips. “I’m fine.”

He leaves it at that. Jeongguk leans up again, adjusting one more time till he’s got both knees on the bed, cock a heady presence inside your sex and he gives it hard now. You’re trying not to squeeze so hard around him but it’s getting difficult; seeing him so focused, his eyes wild, sweat dripping on his shoulders. Sweltering in your heat and love and novelties—defiling him but in the best way possible. “I love you,” he chokes. “Oh my god I might—”

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

He does. Your pussy is still in Jeongguk’s indulgence, his whines escalating until he groans out: “I’m cumming—”

Jeongguk slams into you, a final push for your core and he croons into your neck. Streams of his pleasure in the form of a long sigh, his pulses inside. And maybe you’re dumb but you’re laughing and crying again, arms wrapping around his neck, swaying him back and forth as he calms down.

“How was that?” You ask.

He’s crying, too. You wipe his under-eye when he takes one more kiss. “Best ever,” he says. “I’ll make you cum.”

“You don’t need to—” But his thumb is already on your clit, still wet from his doing and you force your hips to stillness— “Jeongguk no—”

“I wanna feel you cum around my dick,” he says, and the plea is enough for you to tighten and cry even more. It hurts, a nudge of pain but it’s already beginning to spread into pleasure—

“Jeongguk—”

You cum into his kiss, walls clenching into an orgasm so sweet your toes tingle. A ripple of pleasure running through all of you and he moans like he feels it too.

Out of breath. It’s hot under his skin.

“So. Who do we tell first?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Maybe we can decide over breakfast.”

And you feel something, better than orgasmic bliss, the pleasure of a tryst: the simplicity of being in love. Jeongguk makes you feel like you can do anything.

“Eggs?” You ask.

His tongue is sweet. “Eggs.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts #jungkook #f: one time in your room #ubemango fic

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trvelyans-archive · 4 years

Text

There’s two ways this can end: you’ll either fall flat on your face and embarrass yourself in front of everyone, or you just won’t end up doing it at all.

“Come on, Mari,” Nick says, pulling his hat down over his ears. “The rink should be empty this time of night, so there probably won’t be anyone there.”

You purse your lips, thinking, the blanket you fell asleep with earlier wrapped over your shoulders and head. You’re not even sure you have a pair of skates anymore – if you do, your parents probably have them, stored in a wrinkly cardboard box that’s been shoved to the back of the attic in a dark corner where they can be forgotten.

O-kay, let’s move on from that depressing thought…

“Did you invite Gray?” you ask.

“Yeah.” Nick stares at himself in the hallway mirror and pushes a lock of blonde hair under his hat. He looks like how Dad used to when he’d take you sledding, you realize, and you glance away. “He’s the one who suggested it, actually. And you can invite Sally if you want, too.”

“I dunno,” you say, plucking at a stray thread on your blanket. “I’ll probably just stay home.”

Nick doesn’t reply – after about five seconds, you finally glance up to see him looking worriedly at you, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his lips.

“I think you should come with us, Mari,” he says softly. “It’ll be fun. And I’ll skate with you the whole time – no falling necessary.”

He’s only worried because you haven’t left the house for a couple weeks. Your gap year is shaping up to be a lot less thrilling and somehow a lot more lonely than you expected, and not even you – the homebody that you are – can deny that it might be good to go out… plus, you’d get to see Gray, and it’s been a while since you felt up to seeing him whenever he comes around the house for dinner with Nick.

You sigh, pulling your blanket down from your shoulders and standing. “Fine,” you say. You can see Nick grin at you before you turn around and start trudging up the stairs. “But if I fall and crack my skull on the ice, you’re paying for the funeral bill.”

“Mari,” Nick scolds behind you, “that’s not funny!”

Well, at least Nick was right – there’s not very many people here.

There’s some, of course – a few families, a couple pairs of teens, but besides that, there’s thankfully few people at the rink tonight. It doesn’t take very long for you and Nick to spot your friends, especially since they seem to have spotted you first - Sally rushes up as you and Nick approach the rink, the tip of her nose and her cheeks bright red. “You’re here!” she exclaims, wrapping you up in a hug that nearly punctures a lung. It’s been a couple weeks since you’ve seen her, too, and she’s certainly acting like it. “I’ve been freezing my ass off waiting. I assume it’s Nicholas’s fault that you ran late?”

Nick rolls his eyes, smiling. “Good to see you too, Salome.”

Gray, who had been sitting with Sally on a bench near the concessions stand, finally catches up. “Nick,” he says. “Mari.”

He hits you with a mega-watt smile that you’re certain could melt all the ice on the rink within seconds and you feel yourself start to smile back before he glances away, gesturing towards the skate rental booth.

“I don’t have a pair myself, so I’ll have to rent them,” he says.

“Yeah, me and Mari, too,” Nick replies. “Do you have skates, Salome?”

“You bet I do!” She holds up a pair of orange skates. “Cute, huh?”

“Not as cute as you are,” you say.

She elbows you in the side as the boys start heading towards the rental booth, already animatedly talking about something. “I think you’re saying that to the wrong person, Mari,” she teases under her breath, looking rapidly back and forth between you and Gray. She might as well be saying wink-wink-nudge-nudge out loud.

You glance at him for a second before reaching over and elbowing her in the side, too.

You shouldn’t have let Nick drag you into this.

You nearly snap an ankle when you take your first step onto the foam walkway that leads to the rink. The only reason you don’t is because Sally is standing behind you and reaches out to grab you with one hand while she holds onto what looks like a walker with her other. Gray’s already on the rink, skating around with slightly forced confidence and a shy smile whenever a group of young girls skate by and point, and Nick’s leaning against the wall, watching you and Sally carefully as you waddle towards the rink.

(He’s probably still thinking about that cracked-skull thing. Dork.)

“We can skate together the whole time, I promise,” Sally says. Her walker bumps up against your ass as she moves behind you. “Besides, we should probably give the boys some much needed boy time.”

“You know what, Salome?” Nick leans onto his elbows. “I think you’re just scared I’ll out-skate you.”

“What was that, Nicholas?” Sally says. “I can’t hear you over the fact that I own my own pair of skates and you don’t.”

You clear your throat. “Guys –“

“You’re using a walker, and even then, I bet I can still beat you. Remember that time we played Monopoly on New Year’s, and you promised you would beat me?” He tilts his head at her. “And then you nearly flipped the board over after going to jail for the fifth time?”

“You were just lucky!” Sally protests. “Besides, you’re leaving out the part where I beat you at Go-Fish afterwards, and then, when I started throwing peanuts at you, you couldn’t even catch them in your mouth!”

“Hey, guys –“

“Go-Fish and Monopoly are not the same,” Nick says. “And I caught most of those peanuts –“

“Guys!”

Nick and Sally stop arguing and look at you, neither of them noticing that you made it onto the ice a while ago and are now waiting for one of them to help you start skating.

“Can we get this over with now?” you ask.

Sally smiles, skating to your side and readjusting her grip on her walker. “Anything for you, Mari.”

You can’t even see him, but you know very well that Nick’s rolling his eyes behind you.

For the first time since you’ve arrived, it’s quiet enough that you can hear the Christmas music playing over the speakers. It’s starting snowing, too, fat fluffy flakes that get caught on Sally’s hair and on the bobble of Nick’s hat. Gray skates around in front of you, nearly sliding into the wall before he stops, rights himself and gives you all a smile.

“Care for a race, Nick?”

“You’re on.” He glances at Sally. “I have to practice for later, after all.”

The two of them skate away, occasionally veering into the other person’s path to throw them off. Sally laughs as she watches them, her eyes sparkling under the lights.

“Oh, I’m so going to kick Nick’s ass,” she says.

You don’t know how she knows that, but you hope she does. It’ll be pretty funny.

After about an hour of skating with Sally, talking about your Aeon applications and what you want for Christmas and what movie you’re going to watch on New Year’s Eve this year, you call it a night.

Sally, however, takes this as a perfect opportunity to challenge Nick to that race they were talking about earlier, which he accepts wholeheartedly. Once you’ve returned your skates and the walker, you sit down on a bench beside the rink and settle in to watch them. Sure, Sally has her own walker to help her, but she needs it to stand upright on the ice at all – and besides that, it stills seems to be a pretty fair fight. You smile to yourself as they skate to the other end of the rink, listening to them counting down in the distance before the race begins.

You realize, after a couple rounds, that you’ve lost Gray somewhere in the crowd just as he comes walking up carrying two hot chocolates.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you. You swallow before taking it from him. “I thought that you looked a little lonely over here by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t want to take away Sally’s chance at a landslide victory,” you say, gesturing towards her and Nick and avoiding Gray’s eyes.

“I don’t know, Mari… I have faith in Nick.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see.” You take a sip of your hot chocolate and don’t say anything when it nearly burns your tongue. “So, do you like skating?”

“Yes, it’s a lot of fun.” He glances up at the sky, the snow falling around him. “And it’s a beautiful night.”

He’s the beautiful one, you think. You sip your hot chocolate again until it burns your tongue just to distract yourself.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Gray says as he turns to look at you. “I’m really glad I met you all when I moved here. I can’t think of a better group of people to be friends with.”

You know he’s mostly talking about Nick – at least more than you and Sally - but you can feel a little spark of hope in your chest anyway. “Well,” you reply, clearing your throat, “I wish I had more friends my age, but…”

He laughs. “No, no, that’s fair.” He sips his hot chocolate, nose wrinkling when he feels how hot it is. “This is scalding!”

“You’re just sad they don’t have your iced tea.”

“You know me too well, Mari.” He smiles. “But yes, you’re right. Thankfully I have some at home that I can drink later.”

You can barely believe that you were so ready for this night to end a couple minutes ago – now, you don’t want it to. Now you don’t want to ruin the peaceful, comfortable silence that falls between you and Gray as you both direct your attention to where Sally and Nick skate across the ice, laughing and occasionally shrieking when one of them nearly falls over or runs into another group of skaters.

You don’t say anything for a while, even as the snow starts to fall thicker and faster and the air starts to get colder. Sitting here, everything feels like it might be okay.

The house is dark when you return a little after midnight. Nick, nursing a lightly banged-up elbow from when he skated right into the wall as he was leaving the rink, reaches over to turn on the light in the entryway.

“I can’t believe she beat me,” he grumbles, kicking off his boots. “I mean, she was using a walker, so that counts as cheating, right?”

“You’re making me want to hide all the board games before New Year’s,” you say as you take off your jacket. It’d probably be a good idea, actually, now that you think about it – it might make the night a little more peaceful, anyway. “And no, it doesn’t count as cheating, because you’re only saying that retroactively.”

Nick pouts. “Okay, I guess you’re right.” He watches as you tuck your mittens into the pockets of your jacket. “I’m glad you came out tonight,” he says. “You have fun?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling back at him. It’s not that easy – Nick probably knows that by now – but for all intents and purposes, it was fun. “I’m wiped, though, so I’m probably heading to bed now.”

“Aw, okay,” he says, smiling at you. “Goodnight, Mari.”

“Goodnight, Nick.”

When you get into your room, you sink down onto the covers of your bed and quickly fall asleep, the taste of hot chocolate stale in your mouth.

#oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #my writing #my ocs #LISTEN this is rlly ugly and bad but i can't stop thinking abt all of my ocs ice skating with their baes for some reason #also yes i know there is no plot to this. fluff without plot. i know #I JUST had to write this bc it wouldn't leave my head so #sorry you have to witness it ig LKJSDFKLDS #also i'm sorry i feel like everyone is incredibly ooc in this i'm sorry LKDJFLKJSDL #OKAY WHATEVER posting now

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mooncademia · 4 years

Text

Wishes Do Come True — PART 1.

PAIRING ~ Aizawa Shouta/reader

GENRE ~ fluff

SUMMARY ~ Being an undercover cop has always been second nature to you, but after being paired up with Aizawa Shouta, your heart begins to wander slightly off track. With an unexpected occasion coming up, you’ve realized that you really are falling for the angler-hero. Cue the butterflies!

WORD COUNT ~ 3.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ~ Hello everyone! Oh gosh, I feel like I can write a whole-ass dissertation for my love for Aizawa Shouta (esp since he is my favorite character!) but thankfully, I have unleashed my love through writing a story. It is a bit long compared to my other fics and wips so I separated it into 2 parts. Stay tuned for part 2 real soon!

Ps: this story is inspired by BNHA Vigilantes and includes two minor characters, just a heads up!

EDIT: Part 2 is here!

The sun shined brightly as you trotted along the busy streets of Tokyo with Aizawa Shouta. The warmness of the air tingled your skin and your mid-length floral dress danced happily in the air as you held on to your wide-brimmed straw hat to prevent it from flying away.

“There are so many people,” Aizawa grumbled under his breath beside you.

You turned to him. Both of your elbows were locked together and while you could see Aizawa’s annoyance in his eyes, you couldn’t help but smile at him. You thought his little sneery comments were entertaining—cute even. He wore a long black men’s cardigan over a simple white tee, paired with a pair of army-green pants and classic sneakers. Not bad, you thought to yourself.

Last month, you and Aizawa were teamed up together by Officer Tsukauchi to go undercover to retrieve/discover some information about drug smugglers that have been stirring up some crimes and troubles lately. You took care of communications while Aizawa was behind you as a battle-ready investigator—after all, given your cop status, you couldn’t use your quirk. Having experience as an undercover cop for a couple of months already, this wasn’t new to you.

Though the underground hero definitely needed some readjustments in the beginning missions.

“Is this tie necessary? Aizawa complained dryly on the first day of undercover. He tried to loosen his blue tie away from his formal business wear, but it only made his suit more wrinkly.

He looked down at his outfit with a cringed look plastered on his face. “Why exactly do we need to dress up like this?”

You turned around to peer at him but only let out a laugh. You too were wearing a formal businesswoman attire and judging from Aizawa’s helpless expression (which you thought was adorable), you knew he was definitely not used to this.

“Because we need to get information from this company about the smugglers and you gotta pretend to be my assistant!” You explained to him with your hands on your hips.

You looked down at Aizawa’s now wrinkled clothes and you twitched at the disagreeable sight that surely did not look the least bit professional.

“Here, let me help,” you said, stepping in to fix his tie. “You need to wear the tie Aizawa, not let it dangle loose unprofessionally.”

While you carefully tucked in your partner’s tie and smoothened out all the wrinkles of his suit, you felt a gaze watching you. When you looked up, you found Aizawa’s eyes locked with yours. A warm heat flushed through the apples of your cheeks as you realized how exactly close you are to him. You couldn’t read his expression but his eyes pulled you in.

You didn’t realize how handsome Aizawa’s features actually were until you looked up closely—his sharp jawline, carefully pulled-back hair, the cute scruffiness on his chin, and his cold laid-back eyes that exerted exciting intimidation to you. When you met Aizawa for the first time, you knew the man was almost never quite often lighted by a smile, perhaps rationally cold, but you found him to be so lovable at the same time with his small kind gestures and silly grumpy grunts.

Why is my heart beating so fast? You thought to yourself as the two of you stared at each other, your faces only inches away.

“Y/N, Aizawa?” Officer Tsukauchi’s voice ran through your earpiece, popping you back into reality. “Is there something wrong?”

You yelped out and blinked your eyes rapidly. You lift one hand to your ear, clicking on your earpiece. “No! Nothing’s wrong, sorry!” You said in a squeaky voice.

You totally forgot Tsukauchi was literally right behind you guys in a white van surveying the whole action. You reminded yourself to keep your eyes back on the mission.

You glanced at Aizawa who stuffed his hands in his dress pants and looked away casually. “Some people just don’t know how to wear suits,” you added to Tsukauchi with a sly smile plastered on your face.

Aizawa shot daggers at you when he heard your teasing comment which only made you laugh out loud, slowly replacing that weird emotion in your heart with ease and excitement. “Come on,” you exclaimed with a guide of your hand. “Let’s go see what these guys are up to!”

That was the first day of working with Aizawa. And now that it has been a couple weeks, the two of you worked effortlessly and swiftly together as you have gotten to know each other a lot better. Communication was easy for the two of you and you both enjoyed working together given how well you both understood each others’ emotions and personality. It surprised you knowing that this cold, rational-driven man can understand you perfectly but you could say the same for him too.

But as the days pass, you realized that that weird, funny feeling of your heart running relay races whenever you see him? Or those butterflies in your stomach whenever you glance at him?

You still felt that.

And today was one of those days where your face feels a lot warmer than normal despite the cool breeze dancing in the air in the streets of Tokyo.

Why?

Because today you and Aizawa had to go undercover not as performers, waiters, tennis players, construction workers, or even hippies.

The two of you had to go undercover as a regular, cute, loving couple.

And let’s just say your heart was definitely not ready for that.

When you met up with him this afternoon, seeing him in his undercover clothes— how casual yet stylish he dressed, your heart did another relay race but oh boy, that wasn’t even the most embarrassing part.

Before the two of you walked down the streets to follow some men that were claimed to be targets, Aizawa held out his elbow and you stood there dumbfoundedly wondering what he was doing. You swore you looked like a koi fish with your mouth hanging slightly open in surprise.

“Uh…” you commented when you saw Aizawa holding out his arm this afternoon. “What are you doing?”

“Lock elbows together,” Aizawa said as if it was the most obvious thing. “Our undercover act?”

You blinked your eyes and tapped your forehead. “OH! Yes! Of course, right!!” You rambled as you took Aizawa’s arm so you were now shoulder to shoulder. You cursed yourself for being so unprofessional. Did you really think Aizawa was making a move? Noo! He was just playing his part… right?

You rolled your eyes internally at yourself. You were usually so in-tuned, so professional and so calm whenever you were undercover, but this man who many often fear from his deadly gaze or rational mind is making you lose your grip in the most embarrassing ways possible.

As the two of you were walking casually behind the two men ahead, blending in with the crowd in the streets, you tucked away all your silly emotions and flashbacks and reminded yourself to focus on the mission.

“You don’t like any crowded places, huh?” You replied to Aizawa after his remark.

Aizawa turned to you and let out a scoff with a smile. “Not really.”

You looked back at him and smiled with a nod before putting your attention back on the two men. Though strangely, you could feel Aizawa’s eyes still on you.

“You look nice today,” he complimented before darting his eyes back ahead on the streets.

Your heart did an instant flip as your ears barely fully registered what he just said.

Did he just compliment me?

“Oh!” Your eyes widened, looking down at your floral dress. You wore your best dress: the one that had a slight vintage touch since you were such a sucker for vintage things. It was a baby yellow bohemian midi-dress that had a squared neckline which allowed you to adorn it with gold jewelry. The cutely ruffled detail on the sleeves paired perfectly with the vintage buttons on the dress. And with that straw hat? *chefs kiss!*

Not that you spent an extra 45 minutes debating on which dress to wear for this couple's persona… you were excited, okay?!

“Thank you. Um… you look really nice too, I’m glad I don’t need to lecture you on how to wear regular people’s clothes,” you teased, glancing at him for a few seconds.

You saw Aizawa rolled his eyes and you laughed out loud. There’s excitement in the air that made your heart rushing, and it made you feel weirdly good and comfortable. You wished you could just continue to walk with him on the streets like this—shoulder to shoulder, peaceful and relaxed. Previously, you thought the couple's persona was going to be awfully awkward especially with the angler-hero, but somehow it felt oddly… right.

Before you could even fully think about it, you spotted the two men turn right to a narrow dark alleyway, and you immediately turned at Aizawa.

He nodded as if he already knew what you were going to say and with a flash of a smirk he said, “Let's go.”

——————

“And these are the same ones?” Officer Tsukauchi questioned as he closed the doors of the van with a loud thud!

“Ugh! The bonds are too tight!” The man complained inside with his hands tied with gray bonds. In the corner of your eye, you could see Aizawa’s mischievous smile as patted his hands together as if saying: ‘my job here is done.’

You looked back at Officer Tsukauchi and showed him the black bag that the men were carrying. You carefully unzipped the bag and pulled out—

“All Might’s action figures?” Tsukauchi stared at it dumbfoundedly.

“Yup!” You exclaimed. You made an amazing undercover cop because of your outgoing and cheerful personality which resonated with great first impressions. But your deductive and investigative senses were real sharp as well. You held out your hand at Aizawa and he nodded, knowing what you needed already. He reached down his pants pocket and pulled out his knife so casually as if someone just asked him if they could borrow a pen.

“However…” you continued as you popped opened the head of the All Might action figure with the knife. You poured out the bright green gel pills that were hidden inside the hollow toy.

“There it is.”

Officer Tsukauchi leaned in and examined it. “There are a few more locations we need to check out, but I think we are getting warmer to whose behind all this, thanks to you and Aizawa’s info.”

You handed him over the bag and nodded respectfully. “Anytime,” you replied supportingly. “I’m guessing next week’s target is at Ikebukuro, right?”

Officer Tsukauchi opened the door to his van and nodded. “So far, that is the plan, but I’ll let you know if there are any updates, especially after I do some further investigation with these men.” He pointed behind him.

You gave him a thumbs up and a smile and Aizawa tucked his hands into his pocket and let out an agreeable grunt. Once Officer Tsukauchi drove off, you stood at the sidewalk with Aizawa. The day was getting late, the sky was a grayish-blue tone and the two colors smashed together forming little swirls. It was as if there was an enormous painting just pinned above the sky glaring down at you.

“Well,” you said to Aizawa, patting your hands together. “I guess our job here is done.”

On the way back to the train station, the two of you had to cross through the busy streets, bustling with people. But now it was after-work hours, it seemed like the number of human beings on the street suddenly skyrocketed, and you had trouble even crossing through the streets without accidentally bumping into people’s shoulders. There was a whole lot of sorry, and excuse me! that you had to say but when you peered at Aizawa who was a few feet ahead of you, he walked slowly with incomparable ease (no one dared to bump him!).

“Ow, sorry!” You yelped as another shoulder knocked you back, causing you to almost trip on your feet. Aizawa turned his head and you felt an unexpected warm touch wrapped around your wrist. Aizawa gently locked elbows with yours to prevent you from falling back behind or colliding too much with the pedestrians. It was just like this afternoon and electrical signals were buzzing from your wrist to your heart as you stared at him with surprised eyes.

Aizawa flashed you a mischievous smile and said, “You are not too good on these busy streets, you know?”

Your face felt warm even though it was getting colder.

“Tell me about it,” you groaned, holding Aizawa’s arm just slightly tighter.

Aizawa looked up at the large building ahead right above the train station where you two were returning. Immediately when he glanced up, he noticed the date and weather temperature pinned on the building in bright neon lights.

“Oh,” he said suddenly, causing you to turn your head. “Next week’s your birthday?” The tone of his voice was more of a realization than a question.

“Huh?”

You were confused at his spontaneous and unexpected comment, but once you followed his line of sight and saw the large date pinned on the building, you widened your eyes and quickly looked down at your watch on your wrist. The date on your watch did not match up to the on the building. You cursed at old vintage watches, you loved vintage things but the date stopped updating on the watch since last week!

“Oh my goodness, you’re right!” You gasped. “Oh wow I- I didn’t even know my watch stopped last week. I guess next week is my birthday!”

With the undercover missions lately along with your hectic schedule, you had totally forgotten that your birthday was coming up.

You looked at Aizawa whose gaze was now forward and your eyes softened.

Did he really remember my birthday? You wondered to yourself. It was a couple of weeks ago where you were having a conversation with Aizawa and the Hotta Brothers at the Hotta Brother’s Hoppers Shop, the place where you secretly believe is Aizawa’s secret underground hero base (the Hotta brothers strongly objected though). Aizawa always stops by at the shop for his “morning routine” (which is basically reading his book and drinking hot black coffee) but after teaming up with him for the undercover missions, it was also the place where you two will sit down and plan for upcoming missions or discuss ideas and theories. A week or so ago, you were talking to the Hotta Brothers and you landed on the topic of birthdays when complaining how much you found your own horoscope sign to be disagreeable (which of course, we will get into later in another matter). You didn’t think Aizawa was listening while you and the Hotta Brothers playfully shared birthdates and horoscope complaints since he seemed so focused on his reading and drinking his classic cup of black coffee (Aizawa is not the morning person). And you couldn’t lie to yourself right then and there: your affection for him grew. The fact that he was listening to what you were saying that day (and oh boy, have you had your share of rambles), you felt warm to the heart—as if someone has lent you a cup of rich hot chocolate on a cold winter day. You were beyond content and a smile inevitably tugged on your lips.

“Well, happy uhm.. early birthday,” Aizawa said with a slightly timid nature in his voice, you caught it immediately. You two were close to the train station but the pacing of your walks was slower than before. Maybe the two of you just wanted to savor this lazy evening day, or perhaps your heart was beating a bit faster than before, your legs failed to move at a similar pace.

“Thank you,” you beamed. The sun was strangely setting rapidly and before you said your goodbyes to Aizawa, you scheduled another meet up with him next week at the Hotta Brother’s Hoppers Shop to discuss the newest findings with Officer Tsukauchi.

“Wait!” You blurted out when you saw Aizawa turned his body away to go to Platform 1.

Aizawa whirled around with a confused expression. “Hm?”

“Uh…” Your mind paced. You didn’t exactly know the reason behind your sudden comment, but your heart betrayed your mind and you wanted to say one more thing to him before you both part.

“Today was nice,” you said.

Yup, you wanted to scream at yourself.

‘You call catching crimes and finding out more drugs, NICE? Y/N…come on…’ a part of your mind cried to you as you realized what you just stupidly said. Thankfully Aizawa just stood there with his hands casually tucked into his pockets with his signature bland expression.

“I mean,” you continued trying to make sense. “The overall mission went well.” You embarrassingly rubbed your neck and adjusted your hat.

Aizawa nodded silently.

“And…thank you for remembering my birthday, as random as it sounds.” You rolled your eyes and laughed your embarrassment off, and then smiled and looked away. Even at this day of time, people were still rustling through the station and you could hear the updated announcements on approaching trains. “It just…means a lot.”

Aizawa stared at you for a moment, his expression slightly softened when he heard your sincere words. He opened his mouth, about to respond until you clapped your hands loudly together and locked your gaze with him. You put on a confident expression.

“Well then!” You said cheerfully. “You better go! Your train is approaching in 2 minutes.” You flashed a sweet smile to him and to your surprised, he returned the smile back. You knew he barely smiles, there are the occasional grunts here and there, but a genuine smile? Not a sight you often see, and it made you feel jittery in the stomach. You didn’t need him to say any words for you to know he understood your message, and you were glad to just get that off your chest. As silly as thanking someone for remembering your birthday sounds, it was different from Aizawa…it felt meaningful and you were grateful to let him know. A few words of gratitude won’t hurt, right? Probably not.

So as you officially said your goodbyes, you trotted to your platform and waited for your train as the evening breeze continues to conduct happy dances in the air.

You shook your head with a smile as you reflect back on today’s mission.

So perhaps your best dress has become your “lucky” dress as well...

[Edit]: Part 2 is here!

A/N: To those who actually read the fic, I- I am crying heart emojis. Writing this story was so much fun and also somewhat personal, and I am so happy that I can share it for other’s reading pleasure! Thank you so so much, I know I always say this but I am truly truly grateful if you took the time to read it. This is not the end, there will be a part 2 coming real soon!! And I can guarantee that it's going to be quite interesting and vv cute, so please stay tuned for it! 😉 As always, please don’t hesitate to message/comment me abt this story or bnha in general, I’ll be so happy to message you back~ Stay safe everyone and have a wonderful day!! ♡

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f-nodragonart · 4 years

Note

How do you draw folded bat wings? I tried to look up references but it looks so dark and such a mess that I can't figure out what's going on. All my dragons have their wings sticking out and I want them to relax and fold their wings, but I can't figure it out.

first, know that having a good grasp on wing anatomy is the first step, so I rec checkin out my crash-course on vertebrate wings, if u need it. I’ll try to summarize some of the more relevant points when necessary here, tho

that said, real-life folded bat wings are actually a lot messier than u might expect, as bat bones/joints are SUPER-duper flexible

tho this may also be a consequence of their legs/hips being right there, splayed out where the ends of their fingers fold up, and other body types prolly wouldn’t require that particular zig-zig crinkling of the fingertips

I also doubt that that level of flexibility would even be available in the bones/joints of dragons as large as horses, or even just dogs, though I could be wrong about that

either way, I’ll give you some examples of how I approach folded bat wings in my designs

so here we’ve got a standard folded bat wing. note that the LOWER arm is the most visible portion of the the arm anatomy-- the lower arm pulls up over the upper arm, and the fingers curl up under both arm sections

the “tightness” of the folding can vary, depending on the look you want. real-life bats obviously have CRAZY flexible wrists, and can tuck their fingers snug up against their arms/bodies all the way down. and I’m sure you could pull the wrist up a lil closer to the shoulder if need be. however, I believe the position as I’ve drawn-- with the lower arm hanging a bit down towards the front of the body, and the fingers loosely tucking in-- could be a perfectly comfortable, relaxed position for folded bat-dragon wings. this is especially considering that bat wings would be located more towards the midline/sides of the torso rather than right up near the spine like birds, meaning gravity would pull on them a bit more easily, possibly lending to this loose pose. BUT that also depends on the exact wing muscle configuration-- wings generally have pretty good ‘locking’ mechanisms when tucked closed, so tighter tucking is a perfectly reasonable possibility

I will note that wings ought not to be tucked up on top of the back. even bird wings located closer to the spine don’t rest their wrists above the shoulders-- the wings still hang to the sides, with the wrists held near the front of the body

I can’t imagine that pulling the wings back constantly is very comfortable, much less a position that affords the wing muscles any rest

tho the elbows would prolly need to be pulled next to or above the hips a bit, so the elbows don’t interfere with hind leg movement

on that note, also notice the anatomical proportions of the wings and how they affect the look of the folded wing. the upper arm of a wing will ALWAYS be shorter than the lower arm, so when they’re folded up, the wrist will stick out in front of the shoulder. usually even in front of the front limb shoulders, depending on the size of the wings (I think I drew these wings a bit small in comparison to body size, but we’ll just pretend this guy ain’t a particularly strong flyer)

the finger proportions are actually very similar to human fingers, in that the sections closest to the wrist are longest/thickest, while the sections closer to the tips are shorter/thinner. this means that when the fingers fold up, the bases will have long sections without joints, while the tips will be able to curl quite tightly, which you may be able to visualize more precisely here

the bend back under the arm at the 3rd joint may, admittedly, be a bit too sharp even by bat standards, so the fingers may still need to follow the line of the body

but I still think the fingers should be able to curl up under the arm just fine, honestly

now, while it’s important to know the underlying structures here, also note that certain parts of the folded wing (like fingertips) simply won’t be visible due to the membrane

and this is where folded wings get tricky-- not only is it hard to keep track of what’s covered up, but also what sections are connected to one another! hopefully the above diagram helps you visualize how the membrane lays over the overall arm structure at least, but being able to follow membrane connections in different positions takes a bit of familiarizing with overall wing anatomy

(also note that for ease of seeing the base anatomy, I’m not adding in most of the membrane wrinkles I usually would. just keep in mind that bat membranes are embedded w/ a lotta lil tendons that help scrunch up the membrane and hold the wings steady)

I will at least point out one particular section of membrane that trips folks up a lot

here, it’s important to remember that the back edge of the membrane (specifically the plagiopatagium section), connecting back onto the body, is ALSO connected to the back of the arm AND the pinkie finger. thus, we must keep in mind the flow of this section of membrane in the folded wing. note that it may very well cover up part of the visible finger(s) (particularly the pinkie) just before they tuck underneath the arm, as I’ve shown above

now, something fun about bat wings is that they’ve got ROTATION in their wrists! so, unlike birds, you can give yourself some freedom in how many of the fingers are visible, when folded up

I WILL say, though, that real-life bats seem to go for the latter folding, more reminiscent of a bird folding their wrist sideways next to their lower arm rather than curling the wrist underneath the lower arm. but, again, bats have way more leeway in wrist flexion, so I think any of these wrist positions are perfectly possible for a bat-winged dragon

and this flexion will also be affected by the kinda palm you give your wings. while many dragon artists give their dragons humanoid palms, real-life bats don’t actually have palms-- the metacarpals that make up our palms are actually the base bones of bat wing fingers. thus, bats just have a tiny connection area of carpals to connect fingers to arm, allowing for a frankly crazy range of flexion. while I’m not sure about how exactly a palm might affect flight, I don’t think they’re necessarily a problem so long as they’re downsized (palms proportionally the size of human palms compared to the arm would be WAY too heavy/thick for flight..) and retrofit for flight in shape (think about oncoming air currents and what parts of the palm would need to be more/less stabilized or aerodynamically shaped)

also note that, if the wing has a thumb and it’s visible, then the front edge membrane (propatagium) is gonna attach to it

like so (depending on the exact position of the thumb, of course)

now, I know some dragon artists like to curl the tips of the fingers up over the elbows, like this

and like, sure, the tips may be visible past the back edge of the membrane, if you go for the finger-tuck where the fingers follow the line of the body. or if the fingertips aren’t typically bat-like, but are stiffer and incapable of comfortably curling up. I’m specifically thinking of designs with faux-feather cartilage, or those with pterosaur-like fans of cartilage fibers across the membrane, leading to more bird-like folding

but idk, this desire to pull the fingertips up over the membrane THAT far seems uncomfortable and unnecessary? like, I really don’t understand why a dragon wouldn’t simply tuck their fingertips up against their body, following underneath the membrane, as a bat does. if anyone wants to argue me this point, I’m willing to hear it out tho

so, I know that was a lot of hyper-specific info, but if you step back for a minute and just take in the overall look of a folded bat wing, it turns out folded bat wings are WAY easier than most ppl realize!

truly, so many people overthink like, where the fingertips end up, or how the membrane overlays the arm. but once you understand how it all fits together, you can condense the look of it into basic shapes like this

and you can add or subtract detail depending on your style, how defined you want the arm to be from the membrane, how wrinkly/detailed you want the membrane, etc.

hope this helps!

-Mod Spiral

#wings #folded wings #anatomy #bat wings #mod spiral

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shigarakis-fifth-hand · 4 years

Text

Class of 1-A Imagine

The entire 1-A class got hit by a quirk swapping villain! It’s all randomized and I spent a bunch of time on this! Please draw what they would look like and dm me!

Lida

- He was lucky enough to get Denki’s quirk

- Didn't even notice for a few seconds

- Only realized when he couldn’t run anymore

- His engines were simply gone ~ POOF!

- It was only when he looked at his hair and saw bright yellow

- Immediately runs away as fast as his weak, human legs can take him

- When they tell him what happens, he forces Kaminari to tell him how to use it

- “I don’t know, you just... do the thing.”

- “Well what thing because on page four of using your quirk, it says that...”

- When Iida gets the hang of it, he doesn’t like to use it

- He’s terrified of hurting someone, and since he isn’t experienced, he doesn’t want to go brain-dead either

Asui

- She got Deku’s quirk

- She doesn’t like how big her arms get

- All Might immediately helps her since he doesn’t want her to break any bones

- She doesn’t fully grasp the concept and chooses not to use the quirk

- She’s seen how bad Deku can get

- She is overjoyed at something else though

- “My tongue Mina! Look at my tongue!”

- Everyone finds out Asui has a beautiful singing voice

- She’s almost sad to get her own quirk back

- But it’s okay

- She can’t hurt herself with her own quirk ~ribbit

Aoyama

- He was able to get Sero’s quirk

- “Well you didn’t hear this from me but it’s truly unfashionable.”

- “Look at me, the human tape dispenser of 1-A.”

- “Ugh, I can’t even wear my fur jacket because my elbows are too thick.”

- “Sero, how do you wear long sleeves with this thing?!”

- Aoyama doesn’t want to use the quirk, it’s just not “flowing with his vibe”

- He wears his fancy jackets for the entire month after the quirk wears off

( a picture of Bakugo trying to help Kirishima learn about molecules ^^^^)

Kirishima

- He got Momo’s quirk

- At first he’s sad, his unmanly quirk is gone for an entire week!

- But then he realizes that he can walk around shirtless for an entire week

- “It’s for my quirk!”

- He likes being able to make food in an instant, he just doesn’t like it when Aizawa insists that he know the basic molecules of certain things

- “When am I going to use this? I will never have to make an umbrella in my life!”

- He likes to stick to food, especially liking that he can make any meal better than Bakugo

- “Dude! I could solve world hunger from my abs!”

- “Woah, imagine if I could make a car from my abs.”

- “Can I make wings like Hawks?!

- When the week ends, Kirishima is kinda disappointed

- But Bakugo is happy he got his cooking buddy back

Koda

- He got Uraraka’s quirk

- He’s super excited honestly, he likes being able to fly

- “I feel like a feather.”

- Ochako is happy to be able to teach him how

- “Let’s just stay indoors. We don’t need you floating off to space.”

- Koda almost wants to go to space

- Once he learns how to use it, he uses all his time zooming around the dorms

- Once Aizawa takes them outside to train, he just floats around in the air

- Aizawa lets him

- He knows this precious baby needs some relaxation with the clouds

- He also likes the birds

- He can’t speak to them though, which is frustrating for him

- “How do you not remember me? I fed you dinner last night!”

Ojiro

- He got Tokoyami’s quirk

- One second his tail was there, the next second it was a mean looking bird

- Ojiro likes taking his bird on walks, he doesn’t really know what to do with it

- He talks to the bird sometimes, and for some reason he can understand it

- “Dark Shadow seems too emo. Let’s try Gregory.”

- The bird agrees 100%

- When Ojiro is training, Gregory is too powerful sometimes

- “How do you control your own shadow?!”

- Training sessions with Aizawa is just one big mess for Ojiro

- Nothing gets accomplished accept Ojiro talking to Thompson and Thompson trying to attack anyone who gets close

- Ojiro is so excited to get his tail back, but it sad that Tokoyami won’t take the same request

- rip Gregory

( Sato’s reaction to getting Mineta’s quirk^^ )

Sato

- Sato has Mineta’s quirk

- Sato doesn’t come out of his room for the entire week

- Everyone understands

Hagakure

- She got Sato’s quirk

- She makes a bunch of sweets as an excuse to eat all of it

- But that’s not a big deal at all to her

- She’s not invisible anymore!

- The moment she realizes that she isn’t invisible, she goes crazy

- She’s actually kind of tan

- Not only that but she’s gorgeous!

- Thick brown hair, green eyes, and she’s so skinny

- Her face alone has everyone in 1-A dropping dead

- Some of the guys can’t believe it

- They’ve chatted with this girl for months and had no idea

- She wants to ask Ojiro on a date, but what happens when the quirk wears off

- It does wear off, but nobody cares

- They always knew she was pretty, and this just confirmed it for sure

Shoji

- He got Hagakure’s quirk

- What’s not to love about being invisible?

- The strange part to him is that he can still see himself

- All of his extra arms are gone!

- That’s sad, all of his shirts were custom for those arms

- He borrows clothes from his friends

- It’s funny to see a robe and bunny slippers walking around at midnight though

Deku

- He got Todoroki’s quirk

- It’s okay though! He’s got his creepy notebook!

- Todoroki gladly give him teaching on how to use it

- “Remember, flames do damage and ice can be used to capture things.”

- Deku knows all of this from his “research”

- But that doesn’t stop them from spending everyday training together

- It’s fun... and “helpful”

- Deku loves being his own microwave and freezer

- He accidently catches things on fire from time to time

- He got scared by a movie and froze half the couch

- Todoroki kissed him and he burned half his shirt off

- “How do you control this thing?!”

Ururaka

- She got Mina’s quirk

- “Yay! I got acid hands! I got acid hands!”

- Mina makes her wear oven mitts

- She accidently burns a hole through her bed while having nightmares

- “High five! Wait... never mind.”

- “Mina, teach me how to do the thing!”

- Also let’s not forget that Ochako has pink skin, horns, and alien eyes

- “Ooh, I look so cute!”

- Ochako spends most of her time posing in front of the mirror

- “Look at my horns Kirishima!”

- “Mina, look at my eyes!”

Denki

- He got Iida’s quirk

- Whenever he runs, he ends up going sonic on people

- “Denki, take a lap!”

- “I don't think you want that Mr. Aizawa.”

- Whenever Denki tries to use Iida’s quirk, it’s always a quick fail

- So far Denki has taken out a trash can, Present Mic, tripped on a basketball, run into a tree, faceplant into dirt, and accidently swallow a bug

- The worst part is that Denki sleep walks

- Running into stuff, tripping over a potted plant, falling down a flight of stairs

- “This is better than being brain dead I guess.”

- Denki spends most of his time making fun of Iida by waving his arms like a robot and trying on multiple pairs of glasses at once

- Iida demands that Kaminari trains

- “Kaminari, you will read all of these books on how to operate engine legs or else!”

- Kaminari must admit the engine legs are cool

- Except when Kirishima put hot dogs in them

- The entire class room smelled like burnt meat

Jiro

- “Cool! I look like a frog!”

- She got Asui’s quirk

- Her hair turned green, her tongue grew, and her pupils dialated

- “Asui, look at this!”

- She uses her tongue to swing off the dusty chandelier when Iida isn’t looking

- “Ew! They should make tongue condoms!”

- Jiro and Ochako have a blast teasing Mina and Asui

- “Ribbit bitch! Your frog queen has arrived!”

- Denki gets Jiro a crown to wear around the dorms

- Ochako buys the four girls frog onesies

- “So kawaii!”

- Jiro never was into swimming until now

- She likes that her fingers don’t get wrinkly

Sero

- He got Ojiro’s quirk

- “Dude, look at my tail!”

- Bakugo makes fun of his “backwards dick”

- It’s funny, but not that funny

- In return Sero whips him with it

- “I feel like a monkey!”

- Sero hangs from everything he can

- “This thing has more muscles than I do!”

- He goes to a playground nearby with Denki and swings off the monkey bars

Tokayami

- He got Koda’s quirk

- “I’ve never been much about nature. Too much light, not enough darkness.”

- Bakugo jokes that he can finally talk to his pigeon brothers

- “Dude! The birds love you!”

- And everyone is right

- As soon as Tokoyami walks outside, a pigeon lands on his head

- “Why did that pigeon just speak to me?!”

- Tokoyami is scared of the outside now

- “I can hear their voices still!”

- Tokoyami has a panic attack over being able to hear the animal voices

- “Why do ants sound so manly?”

Todoroki

- He got Bakugo’s quirk

- “I’m not asking that bastard for help.”

- Instead, he goes to Deku for training

- “Deku, you have that stalker notebook still?”

- Bakugo’s quirk is like his own quirk

- “Seriosuly? Just heat?”

- “Kind of basic if you ask me.”

- Once Bakugo hears that, he goes beserk

- “Icyhot!”

- “Oh no no, you can’t call me that anymore.”

- Todoroki likes propelling himself in the air with explosions

- Bakugo’s quirk is too loud, like his personality

- He doesn’t like using the quirk honestly

- “It's not very good, very violent, and I don’t like getting sweaty.”

Bakugo

- He got Kirishima’s quirk

- “Yea bro, you can get hard too now!”

- Mina tries to stop him from saying that

- Poor bby doesn't understand

- Kirishima tries to help, but Bakugo is having no part in that

- “How difficult can your quirk be Shitty Hair?”

- It isn’t easy though, especially when Bakugo is forced to be shirtless.

- He’s used to his hero outfit covering his chest

- Bby is a little self conscious

- The best part is that he doesn’t sweat that much

- “Fuck yea! I don’t smell like fucking cinnamon and caramel!”

- Bakugo does miss his explosions and hand grenades

- Your quirk is too boring Kirishima, and it’s not loud at all

Momo

- She got Aoyama’s quirk

- Her immediate reaction is to read a bunch

- “Aoyama! Wait up, I have so many questions!”

- Next though, she has fun with it

- “It’s so pretty!”

- Along the way her and Aoyama become friends

- He brings her pain releivers to help with the stomach pains

- “It sucks but at least it’s pretty.”

Mina

- She got Jiro’s quirk!

- Immediately her skin isn’t pink, her horns are gone, and her eyes turn bright blue

- She’s still as spunky as ever though

- “Dude! Imagine all the hot gossip I can listen to!”

- Mina tries the teacher’s lounge with Asui and Ochako, only to hear Aizawa and Present Mic planning a date night

- “We should totally go as well!” Mina offers

- They go on all sorts of “spy missions”

- Mina also likes being able to tan with Momo from time to time

- She does miss her horns though

- She realizes quickly that Jiro’s earphone jacks are also Bluetooth

- Jiro just never told anyone before

- When Mina gets her quirk back, she is so happy to look “normal” again

Omg this took all day! Please comment down below your favorite combo and if I should do another one! Love you all! Stay safe! <3333

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9r7g5h · 4 years

Text

Her Little Garthy

Fandom: Fantasy High

Rating: K

Genre: General

Summary: In which a previous Ayda gains her child.

Words: 2097

Disclaimer: I do not own Fantasy High.

AN: So, Garthy specifically stated that they were from Zajiri celestials, and they’re a half orc. While Ayda could be their bio mother, Ayda has also said in her notes that she hasn’t been in love with anyone for at least the last three lifetimes, spanning the last 150 years. Garthy is nowhere near that old, and Ayda is half phoenix, not related to the Zajiri at all, while Garthy also exhibits no bird-like features. So, best conclusion is adopted families and with the cuteness of Jawbone adopting Adaine, this went ahead and popped out as well.

Ayda Aguefort legitimately wasn’t used to people being inside of her library. Other than Roland, who she had hired many, many years ago as a young man, it was common for her to pass her many days reading and writing and studying without seeing a single other soul. Silence, broken only by the sound of her quill on paper and the rustle of pages, the occasional thunk as she dropped a book back into place, her hands getting a bit too old for the larger of them.

It was nice, in a way. She was old, early fifties by her count, as inaccurate as it was, since she didn’t have an exact date of her last reincarnation. The person she had hired, according to her notes, to take care of her had skipped out when she was young, leaving Roland for the task he was woefully unprepared for. But he had taught her to read and write and use the magic within her, all the things her absent father should have done, so she was grateful, to him and for the silence. She knew she was off, knew something about her seemed strange to others, and so she accepted and enjoyed the silence for what it was.

Except, now, there was an orc woman standing in her library. Clearly suffering from exhaustion, weakened by some unknown affliction Ayda would have to study later, and, most obvious and concerning, coated in blood both her own and not. Her clothes were tattered, clearly showing signs of the fight she had most likely been in just a short while before, especially since her sword was still dripping blood onto the wood of Ayda’s library.

She was also cradling an infant in her other arm, another thing that intrigued Ayda, but that would have to wait for further examination.

“Please,” the orc woman said, holding out the infant to Ayda. “Please, take her.”

Ayda had had very little interaction with children in this life, though a previous one who had made children of various species their subject of investigation had left incredibly detailed notes. So she knew how to cradle the child’s head with her elbow, keeping the infant face up so it could breathe, the runes on her arms flaring slightly to produce the extra heat something so small would most certainly need.

It was so tiny. Fascinating.

“Do you require assistance?” Ayda asked once she had made sure the child was secure, her mind content that said task was complete. “I am not a healer, but I can escort you to-“

“No,” the orc woman said, even as she unsteadily lowered herself to the floor. “No, please, just, let’s just stay inside. No one will bother us here.”

Ayda wanted to ask what the orc woman meant, but there was also part of her that could take a very well-educated guess as to what she was talking about. Ayda was considered weird here on the Leviathan, an anomaly, a magic user amongst all of the pirates that focused on swords and their primitive miniature cannons. Sure, there were some pirates that knew a bit of magic, enough to call up a wind to fill their sails, or those druids who were trying to grow a garden on the north western side of the city, but nothing like her.

There was nothing like her anywhere.

Except, to an extent, the infant she was now holding in her arms.

It was clear the child was a celestial, probably from one of the angelic fiends that inhabited orcish religions. Zajiri, if she had to take a guess, though she would have to reexamine the child and compare the brief mental notes she had taken to the books she knew she had, second floor, twelfth row on the left side of the library. Maybe she could convince the mother to let her borrow the child for a bit, later, when she wasn’t slowly leaking a large puddle of blood.

“Are you sure you do not require assistance? I am available to help if you require it.” For, of course, a fair and reasonable price, but Ayda had been taught to not bring that up when someone was in obvious danger. It was rude, and could potentially hold up events that needed to happen at a quicker pace.

Still, the orc woman shook her head.

“No, I’m alright,” the woman said. She took a few deep breathes, placed her hand over her lower stomach, and the puddle of blood stopped growing as a low light glowed from her hand. A healer, then. “I just needed somewhere safe to rest for a bit.” She stopped for a moment, looked at Ayda. “I’ve heard what you can do. What kind of person you are. Figured you wouldn’t hurt a baby, and could maybe help ward off those who would.”

Ayda gave a jerky nod of her head, adjusting her arm as her shoulder started to feel sore. She disliked violence, though she was well versed in quite a number of spells to protect herself and her library as necessary. She had actually just been working on one a short while before, to help with the unraveling of someone’s very essence. A work in progress, but it showed promise.

“Your child is a celestial.” A statement, though perhaps with the slightest bit of a question behind it.

“As are you,” the orc woman said back, giving a small shrug. “Don’t know what you are,” she added, “but mine at least isn’t a bird.”

Ayda gave a squawk of laughter, finding humor in the orc woman’s statement, she following with a chuckle of her own shortly after.

“It’s funny, because I’m only part bird, and your child doesn’t seem to have any bird within them,” Ayda explained, the orc woman giving a nod at her explanation. No other words, but still the nod made her feel warm inside, at least for a moment. “Is that why you came here, because of our shared heritage from the celestial realms? If you’re looking for information on your child’s legacy, I could be of some service.”

A shake of the head, the orc woman’s previous brief smile disappearing. “You’re strong, right?”

Another jerky nod from Ayda.

“Strong enough to protect a baby, if anyone should try to harm it?”

Another jerky nod, though this one with confusion.

“I am not sure why anyone would try to harm a child, especially in the presence of a wizard, but if you need my help keeping this one safe, I would be happy to help. Do you require this assistance?”

“Good,” the orc woman said. After another moment of sitting, she forced herself to rise, Ayda rising with her, not even aware of when she had sat on the floor to be face to face with this strange orc woman, the child still in her hands. “Look,” the orc woman continued, stretching out the soreness in her muscles that remained even after the healing, “there some asshole out there, James Whitclaw or some shit, who wants to eat my baby’s brains. Kidnapped me from my ship when the word got out that I was birthing something special, thinks it might help him become king or something someday. I’ll be damned before I let that bastard touch that skull, but I’m badly outnumbered. I won’t ask you to come with me, but no one will try to take my baby from you here. Will you watch her until I come back?”

Ayda paused for a moment, looking down at the child in her arms. Sleeping soundly, maybe a few hours old, still wrinkly and that weird newborn orcish green before it settled into its permanent shade.

“Will you allow me to research your child during this time, until you return for it?”

The orc woman snorted and nodded her agreement. “Thought you might say that, from what I’ve heard of ya.”

“Then by the seven seas and the twelve stars and the nine hells, I will care for your child as my own until you have returned to claim it.” Ayda’s runes flared as she spoke her oath, the orc woman satisfied with that response.

“Let me see her real quick then,” the orc woman said, holding out her arms. Ayda was careful handing the child over, watching curiously as the orc woman sniffed the infant’s head, held it close to her chest, and placed a quick kiss on its forehead, causing it to coo and murmur in its sleep.

A brief pang of jealousy, that Ayda quickly forgot about as the child was returned to her care.

“Garthy,” the orc woman said as she reached the door, not turning back. “The babe’s name is Garthy O’Brien.” And with that the orc woman was gone, sword on her should, prepared to go make the world a safer place for her child.

Ayda leaned down as the door closed shut and sniffed the infant’s head, her eyebrow raising as she smelled the strange scent the newborn gave off. Not the various odors one expected from a child, pleasant but not overly so. Fascinating.

“Well, Garthy,” Ayda said as she headed towards the stairs, shifting the child in her arms to a more comfortable position, “I have promised your mother that I would care for you as if you were my own. While I have never had children, as far as my knowledge of my past lives allows me, you are now legally mine until your mother returns. An hour? Maybe two? That should be enough time for me to study you, get a sense of your origins.”

At some point during her statement, one of Garthy’s large eye slid open, looking up at Ayda with sleep and curiosity in equal measures. Curious pupils, a wonderful color, just hinting at the mystic within the child, just waiting to be found.

Ayda leaned down and kissed Garthy on the forehead, the child quickly lulled back to sleep by the warmth of her runes, safe and warm until its mother returned.

***

Ayda Augefort legitimately wasn’t used to people being inside of her library. Other than Roland, who she had hired many, many years ago as a young man, it was common for her to pass her many days reading and writing and studying without seeing a single other soul. Other than, of course, her child, Garthy. A health ten years old, if she had to guess, though half orc aasimars weren’t her specialty, they were happy to spend their time sitting with her in her library, handing her the books that her hands were too old for, taking notes for when her eyes were beginning to fail her.

She hadn’t been the best of mothers, of course. She had been woefully unprepared for the challenges of raising a child, especially one that had been left with her by an orc woman in the middle of the night, once for the child to be left for what Ayda had to presume was the rest of their lives. The orc woman had never come back, and knowing the Leviathan and a smattering of statistics, it was highly unlikely she ever would.

But Ayda had taught Garthy how to read and write and how to use the magic within them, had learned to cook more then just a basic sandwich to feed her new child, and had even considered reaching out to Arthur to let him know about his new grandchild, though she had lost the nerve just before she had. So far she had given them all of the love that she could, in her own strange way of showing it, and Garthy was happy and healthy and seemed to be doing alright.

And by the seven seas and the twelve stars and the nine hells, until the day her next reincarnation was to come, she would make sure that was the case. She loved her little child, the small creature that had so quickly grown from the squalling infant, her little Garthy, and even in her next life, she would make sure that Ayda loved them too.

(And she would, even without the notes reminding her to love Garthy with all her heart, to love her child she couldn’t remember, Ayda would love them. Because Garthy would teach her how to reach and write and use the magic within her, and would love her with all of their heart, and even before Ayda could do so, as Garthy picked her newborn form out of the ashes, Ayda would love them.)

#Fantasy High #Ayda Aguefort #Garthy O'brien #Dimension 20 #fanfiction

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harry-sussex · 4 years

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KATIE’S TOP 10 15 WORST ROYAL WEDDING DRESSES OF ALL TIME

15. Silvia Sommerlath in Dior by Marc Bohan (Sweden, m. King Carl XVI Gustaf, 19 June 1976)

I love a good simple wedding dress, but this thing needed a tailor from the heavens to save it. It looks like she’s wearing a bedsheet, or a nightgown. The veil is fine, but I hate the little short part just dangling from the Cameo tiara in midair. I don’t hate the whole look in theory, but a lot of adjustments needed to be made for it to work, especially since she went from commoner straight to Queen.

14. Marie-Chantal Miller in Valentino (Greece, m. Crown Prince Pavlos, 1 July 1995)

This is a case of way too much going on. It looks like the designer took pretty parts of multiple wedding dresses and sewed them together without seeing that the individual concepts worked well together. This thing has mismatched lace, I mean, come on. Also, the corset does her no favors.

13. Sophie Rhys-Jones in Samantha Shaw (United Kingdom, m. Prince Edward, 19 June 1999)

Beaded jewelry - especially a cross - does not belong anywhere near a royal wedding. The dress is way too plain, even for my ordinarily plain taste. It looks like a nightgown. The bouquet and veil were nice, but that necklace is just terrible. Combined with quite the unfortunate tiara, this bridal look missed the mark in a lot of ways.

12. Charlotte Casiraghi in Chanel Haute Couture and Giambattista Valli (Monaco, m. Dimitri Rassam, 1 June 2019)

I couldn’t decide which of Charlotte’s two gowns (excluding the short Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello from her civil ceremony) was worse, so I chose both for this spot. The Chanel didn’t fit her anywhere, and those shoes need to be burned in a fire. The fabric is wrinkly and heavy and the bodice drowns her. The Giambattista Valli looked like all of the elements of a typical boho beach wedding, but all sewn together in some haphazard, last-minute fashion. There’s just too much going on - lace and mesh and ruffles and appliqué and polka dots and tulle and wide sleeves. I genuinely hate them both, especially since I had such high hopes.

11. Mabel Wisse Smit in Victor & Rolf (The Netherlands, m. Prince Friso, 24 April 2004)

I don’t hate the silhouette, but that super short veil and those bows have to go. The bows literally ascend in size down the train - I just don’t get it. I can’t get it. This could have been a success if it wasn’t so heavy (weighed down by those ridiculous bows) but the small details just kill the entire thing for me.

10. Marilène van den Broek in Pierre Yves (The Netherlands, m. Prince Maurits, 29 May 1988)

Wedding dresses should never have collars, and you should never see the ribbing of the corset through the fabric. It looks like Pierre Yves missed the entire midsection of fabric and just decided to let Marilène walk out with her lingerie showing. The collar would be weird on a shirt, let alone on a wedding dress. I hate it.

9. Sarah Ferguson in Lindka Cierach (United Kingdom, m. Prince Andrew, 23 July 1986)

The 80s were a terrible era for fashion. I hate satin with a passion - it is possibly the ugliest fabric on the face of the earth. Combine that with shoulder pads and puffy sleeves... yikes. The skirt of the dress looked wrinkled (satin is the least forgiving fabric) and her veil swallowed her entire head and her hair - which is almost impressive, considering one can ordinarily see Sarah’s hair from the International Space Station. Also, those bows on the veil... nope. Bows just seem so juvenile for such a massive event. This is just a case of 80s fashion gone wrong - at least the proportions were right, but the rest of it completely missed the mark.

8. Masako Owada in Jun Ashida (Japan, m. Crown Prince Naruhito, 9 June 1993)

Another case of too much happening at once. The lace is pretty but combined with the excessively ruffled collar, buttons, elbow-length gloves in a mismatched fabric/color, matching handbag (??), and over-the-top necklace and tiara (which I love, but not with this), the look in full is... unfortunate. Also, I hate with a passion when royal ladies in gowns cover their sashes. This was the day she became the Crown Princess of Japan - that sash is a lot more important than that ugly little overcoat!! The sash should always go over the outfit. Period.

7. Letizia Ortiz in Manuel Pertegaz (Spain, m. The Prince of Asturias, 22 May 2004)

I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again - wedding dresses should not have collars. For someone whose fashion almost always knocks it out of the park, I’m flabbergasted that Letizia chose this look for her wedding day. It looks like she’s wearing a camisole underneath to bring up the neckline... I used to do that when I was 13. It wasn’t a good look for a teenage American, and it’s not a good look for a future Queen on her wedding day. Also, the fabric swallows her petite figure alive. The shape is closer to a nightgown than to a wedding dress.

6. Princess Märtha-Louise in Wenche Lyche (Norway, m. Ari Behn, 24 May 2002)

Wedding!! dresses!! should!! not!!! have!! collars!!! The only thing worse than a collar is a jacket... Märtha-Louise went with both in this case. The color is unforgiving and the jacket doesn’t match the slip dress beneath it. I think I like the tiara individually but it just does not work with the dress/vampire cape thing she has going on.

5. Mathilde d'Udekem d'Acoz in Édouard Vermeulen (Belgium, m. Prince Philippe, 4 December 1999)

Honestly, I’m getting tired of saying it, but... wedding dresses should not have collars. The color is pretty but that’s about all I can say about this dress. What’s with those polka dots? Who on earth would think that polka dots and ruffles should go in the same veil? With lace? And tulle? It looks like the designer took all of the leftover fabric from his past designs and stitched them into a ridiculously mismatched veil that was paired with an extraordinary simple dress (that would have been fine on its own, had the collar/coat thing been totally eliminated). Seriously, these collars make all of these gorgeous royal ladies look like Dracula.

4. Rania al-Yassin in Bruce Oldfield (Jordan, m. King Abdullah II, 10 June 1993)

This like something you could get at Party City for $75.00 so a child can call herself “The Bride of Franken-Elvis” while trick-or-treating on Halloween. Seriously, what is it with these ladies and their collars? That embroidery... no. It’d be bad enough if it was white or silver, but the fact that it’s gold? Just no. And it’s repeated on her shoes!! Short-sleeved jackets are simply the worst, especially over a wedding dress. The fabric is unforgiving (I hate satin) and the whole thing looks like it was just pulled out of a suitcase before being thrown on the bride. The bouquet is terrible, the earrings are terrible, the hair is terrible... why does it look like the veil is both pulling on Rania’s scalp and strangling her beehive? I don’t get it, I hate it, I can’t imagine why anyone would think any part of this ensemble looked good.

3. Mary Donaldson in Uffe Frank (Denmark, m. Crown Prince Frederik, 14 May 2004)

By far, the worst wedding ensemble of all the modern royal brides. Mary has such an incredible fashion sense, which is why this one hurts so much. What is going on here? A bad case of wedding hair, for one - suffocated of course by an ugly tiara, excessive earrings, and a veil that looks like it just came out of someone’s attic, unpreserved and yellow-tinted. The same goes with the dress - what’s wrong with the color? Why does it look like it’s been sitting in a studio with a bunch of chain smokers for a year? The color just washes her out completely. The shape isn’t horrible but those weird panels on the front look like they were sewn on the morning of the wedding as an afterthought. I hate the fabric, I hate the sleeves, I hate the fabric, I hate the design execution, I hate the veil, I hate the bouquet, I hate the accessories... overall, I hate the whole thing.

2. Soraya Esfandiary-Bahktiary in Christian Dior (Iran, m. Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, 12 February 1951)

Feathers... just no. Nope, no way. I have nothing good to say. I have nothing to say. Just no.

1. Lady Diana Spencer in David and Elizabeth Emmanuel (United Kingdom, m. The Prince of Wales, 29 July 1981)

The epitome of god-awful 80s fashion. I get that hindsight is 20-20 but I can’t believe that anyone on Diana’s design team would think this thing would age well. It looks like it weighed more than Diana ever did! Puffy sleeves, ruffles, mounds and mounds of ridiculous, wrinkled fabric... it’s a wonder she wasn’t sucking wind by the time she got to the altar! It’s like a workout!! Who needs to go to the gym when you could just put on Diana’s wedding dress and walk a couple hundred feet? For such a young, beautiful bride - this entire thing missed every mark. It wore her, not the other way around. She was barely out of her teens when she wore this and it just aged her... I could do this forever. This is one of the worst royal wedding dresses of all time, then and now, and I can’t fathom anyone ever approving this design much less wearing it down the aisle during the wedding of the century.

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luvknow · 5 years

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KINGPIN | han jisung

genre: hitman!jisung x fem!reader | light angst ; swearing ; drug cartel ; guns ; blood summary: your dad, kingpin of a secret drug cartel, hires a hitman slash bodyguard named jisung so both yours and his life are well-protected. you find your life is a little more exciting with jisung around, but not always in the best way. wc: 15k

There’s an eerie chill in the company building as you made your way to your Father’s grande office that sat ten floors below the surface - The Office in Hell, as you’d call it. Maybe it was the poor insulation of the windows or the mob of men who encircled you and invaded your space bubble, but them and the chilling air was something you could never get used to. The awkward elevator music going down didn’t ease your nerves, either. Why your Father ever insisted on such measures like an entire escort crew for your ‘protection’, you’ll never understand, but you knew better than to argue. Besides, you practically grew up with these men - it was like you had eight uncles.

Well, some of them watched you grow up. Some had, uh, disappeared and had to be replaced in the process. That’s daddy for ya.

The extravagant but incredibly outdated seemingly infinite corridor had the huge cliche oak doors at the end. The two handles, gilded in bright gold, were shaped like the Rod of Aesculapius in honor of you getting accepted into medical school. Although you didn’t follow your Dad’s footsteps and go to business school, he was still very proud of his little Princess for making a name for yourself and this was his daily reminder of how accomplished you’ve become. Business school was what brought this crazy kind of life upon your father anyways, and he’d worry everyday if you got involved in this lifestyle. So he thanked God you got into med school.

Two of the men opened the door for you as if even the Rod of Aesculapius did not deserve to be touched by your hands. It’s been a while since you’ve visited home that you forgot how much they treated you like royalty, like an actual princess. You supposed they weren’t exactly wrong… Drug Pusher Princess had a certain ring to it, didn’t it?

Your Dad sat in his favorite leather chair staring at some paperwork with his glasses resting on the tip of his tiny nose. If this were anywhere but ten floors below, you might have believed he was doing real paperwork for the Soju company, but the wads of cash next to the wooden cart of cocaine made it less convincing.

You saw your Dad’s eyes light up and sparkle when he realized it was you. “My little girl!”

“Hi, Dad,” you greeted warmly before walking over and giving him a big hug. Kingpin of a massive drug cartel, CEO of an international Soju brand, and Professor at the University, your Dad’s number one job was to be your number one supporter and love you endlessly. Really, you couldn’t hate him for living life on the edge like this after he and your Mother got divorced - he was still the best Dad anyone could ask for, and that was the most important part, right? Being filthy rich helped you oversee the cocaine, too.

“It’s not everyday a Dad gets to see his only child. This calls for a drink. Jisung! Get the good whiskey from the glass case!” he called into the neighboring room.

“Yes, sir,” you heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Dad, it’s like one in the afternoon…”

“A celebration does not wait for five o’ clock, Princess.”

From the room over came a man who you’ve never seen before carrying a tray with ice, two crystal tumblers, and a huge vial of liquid gold whiskey. He must be new, at least in the last couple of years since the last time you’ve visited. He was definitely different than the rest of your Dad’s henchmen. He was on the shorter side, so it probably wasn’t his strength that got him hired. Maybe he was intelligent? A hacker, perhaps?

The man could tell you were staring - no, analyzing him, so he dared to look back. He knew better than to glare at the King’s Princess, but you could tell he didn’t like how you were already judging him after five whole seconds.

After pouring your drinks, handing them off, and exiting the room you dared to ask. “Fresh meat?”

“Hardly,” your Dad chuckled. “I hired him shortly after your last visit a couple of years ago.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s my right hand and my Hitman.”

“Whoa, what!? Dad! You said you would never do that kind of thing!” you whined worriedly.

“You don’t understand how dangerous this business is.”

“Uh, yeah I do! How many times have you called me while I was doing my rotations at the hospital to keep an eye out for your men? I literally see everything.”

“That’s exactly why I hired Jisung, a Grade-A Hitman. I don’t want to involve you anymore than I have to already, so hopefully he’ll lessen my calls to you while you’re on duty. And you don’t want your old man to end up in the hospital either, or worse yet dead, now do you?”

“No…”

“Ok then, end of discussion.”

“No, not the end!” you leaned over his desk to whisper so neither that Jisung guy nor even the wall of men behind you could hear. “Where did you find him, anyways? Off the street? What if he’s working for someone? Or-or worse, trying to overtake your empire?”

“With Jeongin’s help, we did an extremely extensive background and everything. No record of him ever getting involved with another group. And to answer your question, yes, I found him off the street.”

“What the hell, Dad! You’re so careless!”

“I’ll drink to that.” Without your consent, he clinked your two glasses together with a cheeky grin on his dumb, wrinkly face. “Lighten up, Buttercup. There’s no need for your inherent apprehension on such a happy day.”

You didn’t answer before sipping on whiskey with the glass between your pouty lips. Your eyes naturally drifted around the room trying to see how much it changed since the time you cried to your Dad about how you thought about dropping out due to the immense pressure. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place, so nothing had changed other than the unfamiliar man in the next room. While your Dad busied himself with another glass, you dared to get up and peak into the room.

Jisung was wiping down a pistol. Knowing that he was ‘off the streets’, you bet it was unregistered. The sight of a gun and being in its presence really made your skin crawl. You didn’t know Jisung at all, but if he was your Dad’s Hitman, there was no way he’d be reckless with a pistol, right? So at least you knew he was skilled with a weapon. He wore all black and the piece of clothing that stood out to you the most was his leather jacket.

He noticed you peaking in almost immediately and raised his brow. What could the accomplished Princess be looking for? You watched him eye you up and down so slowly that you felt like you might as well have been naked. His gazing and the slight curl on his pretty lips was incredibly intimate and hardly appropriate, especially for a first meeting. Maybe seduction was part of his specialty. Or was he mocking you with it?

“Who are you?” you asked hoping your tone was strong enough to hide your embarrassment.

“Jisung.”

“Where are you from?”

“Off the street,” he teased. “At least that’s what you assume, right?”

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“It’s hard not to when it’s my job.”

“Your job is to protect my Dad, not eavesdrop on uninvited conversations.”

“Spying is just a small fraction of my job, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are you picking a fight with a Hitman already, Sugarplum?”

Your Dad interjected at the perfect time to break up the tension between his precious prodigal Princess and his right-hand unbounded Knight. Jisung was not bothered since he was accustomed to arguing with the enemy, but you on the other hand might as well have steam coming out your ears. You may have gotten the last word, but the smirk on Jisung’s lips let you know that he didn’t care that you won this battle because in the end, he was going to win the war.

“Not a fight,” you corrected before flashing your Dad a fake smile. “Just some bantering.”

“As you always do - it’s what you’re best at, after all. Just like your mother ~”

“Dad!”

Jisung didn’t try very hard to hide his snickering and now you could check off ‘Dad embarrasses you in front of his Hitman’ from The Drug Cartel Bingo sheet.

“Are we going out for lunch, or what?” Your Dad began to push you out of the room before you could object. “Jisung, I trust you can take care of my office while I’m away.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll be sure to order you something.”

“A bit generous for office-sitting, don’t you think - ow!” Dad nudged your arm with his bony elbow, shoving you through the doorway and forcing you out the office in general so you both could finally get going to lunch.

“You were never nice to strangers, you know,” he scolded while you two and eight men stuffed into the elevator. “Every time we went to parties or ran into friends on the street, you were always so suspicious of them.”

“Yeah, because all the girls at school only liked me for our money, so I figured the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong. But Jisung’s different, ok? He’s a good kid, he’s just a kid.”

“‘Just a kid’, yeah a kid you found off the street who can wield a pistol? Seriously, he’s a total stranger! What makes him so special!?”

“Ok I lied, he’s not from the streets, or whatever you kids call the bad neighborhoods these days.” Dad made you wait until you both got into his completely blacked-out car limo thing before continuing. “He’s one of my teacher’s assistance.”

“You’re kidding, right? You have a TA as your Hitman? Is this not like… conflict of interest?”

“Not when he’s my best and most loyal student.”

“How did you convince him to join you in this kind of life?”

“He doesn’t look like it, but Jisung’s a total suck up, so it wasn’t very hard. Of course he was surprised at first when I offered the position, but completely willing. Did the whole drug test, psychological test, multiple physicals, hazed him a bit and everything - he’s perfect. I like him a lot, too - might even offer him a permanent job once he graduates and it doesn’t look like he’s leaving anytime soon, so you better play nice and get used to his company. He’s family now.”

“These men are not real family, Dad.”

“Tell that to your eight uncles.”

Lunch was filled with the most extravagant salads, daytime cocktails, and Dad only ordered the finest cuts of meats. Even for his Hitman, he ordered nothing short of a Michelin star special. There were many moments in your life when you thought your Dad was too nice for his own good and your ‘inherent apprehension’ as he worded it was at an all time high towards everyone around him because of those thoughts. It would break your heart if anyone were to get too close and bring down his entire empire he built just so you, him, and even your Mom could live a happily and worry-less. You didn’t care how many Hitmen or guards he considered family - you were his real and only family and you were the only one truly looking out for him, even if that meant you would be put in danger.

Just don’t tell Dad you care too much, otherwise he really might think you’ll take over as the head one day just so he wouldn’t have to do it anymore.

When you both arrived back to his office, Jisung was exactly where you left him - except instead of cleaning a pistol, he was cleaning a silencer. Immediately upon seeing you and Dad, he got up to bow. Ugh, he was a total suck up!

“See, I don’t even make him do that,” your Dad defended. “Most loyal TA, I’m telling you.”

You only rolled your eyes. “I’m heading back to the hospital.”

“Jisung will escort you.”

“No,” you said flatly.

“C’mon, it’ll give you to some bonding time! And the hospital isn’t exactly in the safest part of the city.”

“Oh my God, I’ll be fine -”

“That’s an order,” Dad said in his strictly no funny business tone. “Am I seeing you again soon or through facetime for the next two years?”

“I promise I’ll visit more often. I just hate going up and down the elevator and walking the mile-long hallway.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise. Just ask one of your uncles to carry you next time, or something. Jisung, text me when she’s at the hospital.”

“Yes, sir.”

You didn’t even bother arguing your Dad’s over-protective measures. “Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

You’re out of the door before Jisung could catch up and he thought how this must be the med student in you. He clearly remembered that was how all the med students walked around his campus like they always had somewhere to be and were more important than all the other ‘smaller’ students. He was never a fan of them and he wondered if he was about to add another person to his list.

Why was Dad’s elevator music always this awkward and cliche?

“So… you TA for my Dad?” you asked, trying to play nice, as your Dad had put it.

He chuckled a bit before responding - or maybe it was a scoff. “So you figured out I’m not from the streets?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that… I’m not as trusting as my Dad.”

“No worries. You’re just smart. I would harass a stranger if they got near my family, too.”

“I didn’t harass you…”

“What would you call it then?”

“Being protective.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Jisung’s car was already outside of the company building. At least you think it’s his car, but could a business grad student really afford an all-black Ferrari? There was no fucking way.

“This is your car?” you asked incredulously.

He thought you’d be used to these types of cars by the way your Dad lived his life, but maybe he was wrong. “Yes and no - more like your Dad gave it to me.”

“He’s just giving out cars now?”

“No ~ Think of it as a business car.”

“Business cars are shitty silver-colored sedans that have to be manually opened with a key, not a shiny black Ferrari with butterfly doors!”

“Would you rather take the subway?”

“No…”

“Well then,” he began before fluttering the car doors open. “Your chariot awaits, Princess.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Your chariot awaits, _____.”

Damn, so he knew your name. Was that all part of being a Hitman? Knowing their name, their background, their entire life… or did he just have to know what their face looked like before he shot a bullet through it? Did he just know your name, did he know everything about you, or somewhere in between?

The beginning of the car ride was silent until Jisung hit the highway and began weaving in and out of the lanes like those douchey car dudes who revved up their engines any chance they could get to show off how big their dick was. What the hell was wrong with this guy!? He must have been used to this kind of driving from all the chasing or whatever the hell he does, but that didn’t mean he should be driving like this with a good ol’ civilian like yourself in the passenger’s seat!

“Are you trying to take me to the hospital or put me in one!?” you shrieked loudly while gripping on to the handle on the roof like your life depended on it.

“What do you mean? This is normal driving for me.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Is it because I said you’re from the street? I said I was sorry! Is this part of your scare tactic, or something?”

“I could never hurt you. I’d lose my job,” he teased.

“Then please, for the love of God, slow down!”

“I would if we weren’t already here.”

“Huh?” Looking outside the tinted windows, as much as you hated to admit it, Jisung was right. You arrived safely in front of your hospital with your heart beating faster than his driving. “Oh… That was fast…”

“You’re welcome.”

The sarcastic man left the car first, running around to flip your door open like some chivalrous Knight. It was weird labeling him as a Knight - that and Hitman weren’t necessarily synonymous, but both were somehow appropriate. The door flipped open and Jisung held his hand out for you, but you took a pass on that.

“Thank you for driving,” you muttered to him, feeling a bit awkward. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Of course you will. Have a nice day, ______.”

“W-Wait!” Jisung turned back around and raised his brow, which you now figured was his curiosity quirk. It was quite cute, but don’t tell him that. “How much do you know about me?”

He pursed his lips tightly together as if he was too embarrassed to answer. “Do you really want to know?”

“Never mind, you already answered it.”

Then he breaks out laughing. Ah, even cuter than his eyebrow quirk… What was with you and simple things that boys do that made your heart leap? You hated it. Well, he was definitely charming like a Knight.

“Have a nice day, _____,” he repeated. “Call me if you ever need a ride anywhere.”

“Thanks, but I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll text you so you’ll have it.”

“Wait, you have my number?”

Jisung only winked before getting in his car and driving off as fast as you arrived.

“Have a nice day, too,” you muttered to no one. “This is why I hate mobsters.”

When you walked into your unit, you saw all of your lady classmates eyeing you teasingly. Oh no, did they see everything? Now the whole department’s going to know about Jisung because for some reason med students do not know how to shut their mouths when it came to juicy gossip. They erupted in a song of oohs and ahhs, but luckily it was only your closest friend Somi who rushed to your side with heart eyes and open ears.

“Is that the famous guy you’ve been seeing?” she teased. “You didn’t tell me he was a whole man.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Oh, come on, the entire hospital saw you come out of his car! We could hear the engine from a mile away. No one expected little _____ to date a man like that ~! He’s tasty, dude.”

“Somi!”

“A whole ass meal.”

“Ok, that’s enough!” you blushed.

“He’s hot.”

“Look, I’m not seeing him! He just works for my Dad, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe you should pretend you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. San didn’t seem too happy seeing you with him ~”

Dr. Choi San, the apple of everyone in the entire hospital’s eyes. Name any person in any of the departments, patient or faculty, and they’ll tell you how much and what they love about Dr. Choi San. You were no exception - you’ve had a major crush on him since your volunteering years as an undergrad student and he was still in med school. If you thought he was hot then, well damn, how would you describe him now? Like McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy? You’d talk here and there, and at times you’d follow him on rotations, but there wasn’t much interaction beyond that. You simply admired him from afar at this point. But to hear he’s upset about you being with Jisung? A total stranger? Man, if only your ego could fly higher than space.

“Really?” you grinned happily. “Do you think he’s jealous?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well, in that case then yes, that is the guy I’m seeing.”

“Ugh, you dog… I love this side of you. So what’s his name? Does he have any brothers?”

Let’s see how long you can pull this off.

unknown [13:15]: Hey, Princess. It’s Jisung.

old man [02:45]: Hey, hun. Are you working overnight?

you [02:48]: Yes, why? What did you do this time?

old man [02:49]: Room 430.

“Dammit,” you cursed. A long, tired, heavy sigh escaped your lips as you dragged your feet to the fourth floor. Dad had a pretty good streak of keeping his men away from your hospital, but at 2:45 in the morning was the regression back to day zero.

Room 430 was one of the fancier and completely private rooms, so it was just one of your Dad’s men that was hospitalized. You walked in expecting to only see him unconscious on the bed, but you were welcomed with that and an unscathed Jisung reading next to him. It’s been a couple of weeks since you last saw him, so it was a little awkward, but you were mostly embarrassed because now he’s seen you in your scrubs and white coat with messy hair and droopy eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted casually.

“Hi. You look completely fine, what are you doing here?”

“It was my fault this happened, so I wanted to stay until he wakes up. Plus, I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Did you need something?”

“No. I’ve just missed you since our first meeting. That’s all,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha ha… But you’re ok though, right? No bullet or stab wounds or whatever you guys go through nowadays?”

“Completely fine. No need to worry, love.”

“I said to not call me that!” You sighed again for the millionth time that shift. What was the point of arguing with him? “What happened tonight? Why did you say this was your fault?”

“Some guys tried to scam us during a delivery and we got ambushed. They were merely pawns in the enemy’s operation though, it didn’t take long for us to eliminate them, but Mingi here got stabbed from behind and I failed to watch his back.”

“Same old thug shit as usual.”

“Exactly. God, I feel so stupid.” The Hitman ran a hand through his messy hair before rubbing the tired from his eyes. You almost felt bad. His sleep schedule must be as fucked up as yours was, maybe even worse. Who knows what times of the day Dad needed him? But what do you say to a Hitman having a crisis?

“It’s not easy working for my Dad, but you’re doing fine. He likes you.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“You’re alive, right?” You saw Jisung’s eyes widen in fear for a split second before you laughed. It was entertaining to see his face express something other than pure cockiness. “I’m kidding! Half kidding… he told me likes you.”

“Wow, look at you. Who knew you could smile,” he teased again. He liked your smile. It was charming in its own way - in a way that was you. He liked the color of your blush after he told you, too.

“Shut up… What did the doctor say about Mingi?”

“He’ll be just fine,” a familiar voice said.

Behind you stood Dr. San with his signature charming smile on his lips and a clipboard with Mingi’s paperwork. You felt your heart leap in your throat, stopping you dead silent and that did not go past Jisung. The way your eyes widened, how your back stiffened - you were a totally different person around this guy. You saw Jisung do the eyebrow thing at you and you glared back, telling him that he better shut up or else.

“How are you, _____?” Dr. San asked gently.

“Good! I mean, I’m well. Tired, but well!” Oh God, were you stuttering?

“Yeah, overnight shifts can do that to you. Do you know these men…?” he hesitated, mostly indicating to Jisung rather than the unconscious patient on the bed.

“Close family friends.” At least you weren’t lying. “How is Mingi?”

“He didn’t lose too much blood. He has his stitches, so once he wakes up he’s ready to leave whenever.”

“And the reason for the IV?”

“He seemed dehydrated, which may be the reason he’s unconscious. Rather than fainting from blood loss, he fainted from the sight of it. The IV should help him recover and get his fluids in check quicker.”

You couldn’t help your face from falling flat. God, what kind of weak men did your Dad employ nowadays that they couldn’t even stop an ambush and fainted from the sight of their own blood!? Really, it was unbelievable, and even Jisung thought the synopsis was ridiculous.

“Thank you for the debrief. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sounds good.” Dr. San headed towards the door, but stopped himself and laid a hand on your shoulder. You instantaneously tensed up and prayed it went unnoticed, though Dr. San was known for paying close attention to the small details. “Call me if you ever need anything,” he said. And then he was gone.

“S-Sounds good!” you called out the door.

“He reminds me of those doctors on all the dramas,” Jisung scoffed. “Totally theatrical with that exit. What’s with that guy? Is he in love with you, or something?”

“More like the other way around… Although rumor has it the day you dropped me off a couple of weeks ago, he was not too happy to see that. Why, are you jealous?”

“You like that guy!? Why!?”

“He’s a smoking hot doctor, what else can I say?”

“He has no personality! Where’s the gall? The entertainment? What a bore… so he’s threatened by me, huh?”

“He… may be jealous because I may or may not have told a few friends that you’re this guy I’ve been seeing…”

“Oh?”

Jisung got up from his seat with the widest smirk on his playful little lips. Even his strut to you was playful, like you boosted his ego out of this atmosphere and into another one. He ended up centimeters in front of you, leaning his face in to see if he could get some sort of reaction out of you the same way Dr. San did, but better because HE was better. He heard your breath hitch in your throat and that was all he needed.

“I don’t remember consenting to this, Princess.”

“I know, I’m sorry! I got a little too excited hearing Dr. San was jealous… And everyone would not shut up about asking if I was seeing anyone.”

“Are you even seeing someone?”

“No, but whenever I said no, all the nurses tried to set me up with their sons so before I trapped myself into a series of bad blind dates, I lied and said yes and now here we are… But by next week, everyone will forget I ever said anything, so there’s no need to be upset, right?”

“Does that mean I win in the end?”

“Win what, against Dr. San?”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, I guess? I didn’t think this situation called for a winner or loser…”

“Silly girl, there’s always a winner and a loser no matter the circumstance. And like hell am I going to lose you to a guy like that. I always win in the end, anyways. So if you must, by all means say I’m your incredibly sexy, irresistible, and delicious boyfriend.”

“Jeez, are you always this competitive? And I’m not a trophy…” you muttered. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? It seems like you’ve had a long day.”

“I did, but I’m not tired. When does your shift end?”

“At six in the morning.”

“I’ll wait for you. You look like you could use the company and we can get breakfast after.”

You wanted to object, and maybe it’s because you’re a little disoriented due to lack of sleep or because breakfast sounds so good right now, but you didn’t. “I’d like that.”

“See, look at us getting along. Your father will be happy to hear about this.”

“Oh, he’ll be ecstatic.”

“Why the hyperbole?”

“If he hears stuff like I’m getting along with his Hitman or anything remotely related to The Business then he’ll think I’m that much closer to taking over.”

“And that’s the last thing you want, right?”

“Exactly -!”

“_____, get back to work,” Dr. San said uncharacteristically strict while passing the room.

“We can talk more during breakfast,” Jisung reassured. “Have fun with the rest of your shift.”

“Thanks. You have my number for some odd reason, so text me if you need me.”

Jisung’s laugh was the last thing you heard before you left the room with a newfound burst of energy.

Maybe you were wrong to judge him too quickly. He seemed like a totally normal guy, right? But no, that couldn’t be it. He was first and foremost your Dad’s Hitman. There was nothing totally normal about it at all. But at least he acted normal around you. That was all that mattered for now.

The last hours of your shift went as normal other than receiving a lot of compliments of how you’ve adjusted to the overnight shift life quite easily. Even Dr. San was giving you more attention. Could it be because Jisung was here and Dr. San was feeling jealous and territorial? No, _____, you were in over your head… Well, whatever the reason, you’d have to tell Jisung later that he was winning.

“That guy is yummier up close,” Somi giggled brightly just as she was clocking in and you were clocking out. “Good catch. You should bring him to the faculty party as your plus one.” You groaned as a reply and left without saying anything. “Does he have any brothers or not!?”

The rising sun was shining brightly through the floor-to-ceiling high glass windows in the lobby. Your Dad was one of the few commissioners who donated to the hospital so they could redo the lobby and it turned out so beautiful. It was the little things like this that made the overnight shift worth it. Jisung texted you to meet him outside and he already had the car pulled up and ready to go. The sun hit him and his car just at the right angle as if whatever God that was up in the sky was letting you know that hey, this dude isn’t so bad! Give him a chance and be his friend! But again, maybe you were being delusional due to lack of sleep.

Like a gentleman, he opened the door for you once again.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” you told him.

“Princesses never open their own doors.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Am I a prissy brat, or something?”

“Before I met you, Mr. _____ kept on referring to you as his Princess. I guess I got attached to the nickname. I kinda like it, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Fine fine, I won’t call you that anymore ~ Whatever the Princess wants.”

You buckled your seat belt extra tight and held onto the overhead handle before Jisung even settled in his seat. He stared blankly at you, unable to believe that you were being this extra and dorky. So he’s a crazy driver, what student wasn’t these days!? He didn’t bother responding - rather, he just drove safely like a nerd.

“See, is that so hard to do all the time?” you scolded.

You had absolutely no idea where Jisung was taking you. He didn’t even ask where you might want to go. He could be kidnapping you, for all you know, and you were letting him! The idea sounded ridiculous, but it was all fine when he pulled up to a local diner.

“I know what you’re thinking - it’s not your typical bottomless mimosa and avocado toast kind of place. But their french toast is to die for.”

“Is that really what you think of me?”

“It’s what I think about all daughters with a terrifyingly powerful father. Besides, I don’t know anything about you.”

“You’re such a liar! You knew my number before I even met you! I bet you know everything about me!”

“Not everything ~ Like I didn’t know you could look so good in scrubs,” he winked. “I only know the basic stuff - like your academic and athletic accomplishments, your allergies, your past pets, favorite color, etcetera etcetera.”

“Yeah, that’s totally basic knowledge… How did you even find all of that out?”

“Mr. _____ gave me your file the day before you came to visit. He thinks we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so might as well get to know you a little bit.”

“Couldn’t we have done that the normal way? You know, like a regular ass conversation? Wait, I have a file?”

“It sounds worse than it is. It’s actually kind of cute. Like his weird mobster version of a scrapbook.”

The diner looked like those old school types you see in American movies. The booths and bar stools were a candy red, the walls were turquoise, everything was accented with tacky chrome, and there was a jukebox busting out the oldies in the corner. Although this place was a bit odd, it was still home-y in its own way. The hostess sat you two at one of the booths by the window that overlooked the busy city.

The menu was ginormous. There was a whole side just for drinks! On normal days when you had class or had rotations in the morning, your go-to drink was anything with three espresso shots in it. You can’t remember the last time you had a tall glass of cold orange juice with your food. Breakfast was always one of the hardest foods to choose from because both sweet and savory options were just too good to pass up. You were probably just shopping with your eyes. You trusted Jisung, for whatever reason, on his french toast suggestion, so you’ll order that.

The man of the hour already knew what he wanted to order and was flipping through his phone while you were looking. You noticed all of the bloody cuts and bruises that dressed both of his hands and your loud gasp made him look up at you.

“What?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Instinctively, as if Jisung was one of your kiddie patients, you tenderly took one of his hands and ran your thumbs over the dried-out scars. He hissed in pain, so they must have been deep cuts.

“They’re just small cuts, it’s not like I could die like Mingi.”

“But they could get infected! Who knows what rusty, dirty stuff you touched last night. We have to go back after breakfast so I can take care of it.”

“You mean so you can take care of me ~?”

“No, you idiot -”

“Are you two lovebirds ready?” the cheery waitress asked.

“Huh? Lovebirds?” You guessed it did kind of look that way because of how you were holding Jisung’s hand, but didn’t the scrubs and his blood (was it even HIS blood?) sort of prompt a stranger’s eyes that you guys weren’t together? … Ok, maybe not. “We’re not -”

“Yes, we’re ready!” Jisung held onto your hand tightly before you could pull away. He didn’t have to look at your face to know you were mortified and that only made him stifle his giggle. “I’ll have the cinnamon french toast special. How about you, baby?”

Hey Google, what’s the cruelest way to kill your Dad’s Hitman? “I… will have the same thing. With orange juice, please.”

“Coming right up!”

She took both menus and the second she walks into the kitchen, Jisung is lying down on the booth laughing it up like a hyena.

“You should see your face!” he giggled.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“I think I’m hilarious.”

“If I don’t like my food, you’re paying.”

A bullet whizzed in between you and Jisung and then there was shattered glass everywhere. Time paused. There wasn’t enough time to cover your face, so bits and pieces stuck to one side of your cheek and you can feel the blood trickle down like they were tears. While the rest of the restaurant ducked under the tables and counters for cover, you were too mortified to move on your own.

From under the table, Jisung took your hands and pulled you down with him before other gunshots were fired.

He picked off as much glass as he could on your cheeks before holding your face in his hands. Your eyes couldn’t focus on one space at a time like you were trying to take in as much detail of what was happening as possible, but the tears were getting in the way. You were terrified.

“Hey, look at me,” he said sternly. You did as you were told, but then the tears started to fall. This couldn’t be real. “Listen to me, ok? Stay here and don’t move.”

“D-Don’t leave me…!”

“I promise I’m not leaving without you. I’ll be right back, ok? Promise me you won’t move.”

You nodded, wondering how could he be so calm under this circumstance? He must be used to it, after all. Before leaving, he pulled out his shiny pistol from his hidden holster and made his way towards the shooter or shooters.

From the broken window, you could hear indistinguishable yelling and multiple gunshots. He was alone out there. And who knew how many shooters he was up against! There was no way he could do this alone. But you were defenseless and had absolutely no way of helping other than doing what you were told and staying put under the table.

Then the shooting stopped. For a solid five minutes, there was complete silence, with the exception of your loud breathing and other innocent people’s soft crying. Everyone’s breath hitched in their throat when the doorbell rang. You heard heavy boots travel towards your direction and that’s when you knew you were the target from this whole thing all along. Daughter of a Kingpin, of course! What else could be the reason? Were they going to kill you? No, that would be stupid. What would they gain out of that? They must be here to kidnap you and force your Dad to pay them in billions so you could come home.

The boots stopped right at your table and you felt like you could die right there. You had no clue what this man even looked like, but he was easily the most terrifying man you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. He didn’t move at all while he was there. It was like he was teasing you, like he was making you wait and then when you least expected it, BAM! He’d drag you from under the table and throw you in their blacked-out van.

Another gunshot was heard from inside the diner and the man in the heavy boots fell to the floor with a big thud that vibrated the whole restaurant.

Jisung was the next face you saw when he crouched down to check on you. Before he could ask if you were ok, you lunged out from under the table and went straight into his arms.

“Are you ok?” he whispered while holding you tightly. You could only nod while your face was buried in his shoulder. “We gotta go, Princess. You can fall in love with me some other time.”

Reluctantly, you pulled away. There were splatters of blood all over the poor Hitman’s face and it was horrifying.

“Blood…” you muttered, trying to wipe it off.

“It’s not mine,” he reassured. “C’mon, I need to take you home.”

He took your hand and the both of you booked it to his car before any of the diner staff or customers could question you. Just outside, the streets were empty of people and cars and sirens could be heard far off in the distance. It was a total mess in the parking lot with five huge ass men laying in their own pool of blood.

“Holy shit,” you said, all wide-eyed.

“Yeah… This job gets a little messy at times,” Jisung sighed.

The car ride to your apartment is silent. Hell, you didn’t even question how he knew where you lived without having to ask you. All of what just happened happened so fast… like in a matter of seven minutes. You’re still completely shaken up about it, but what mattered was that both you and Jisung left as a whole with no major wounds. You had a bloody cheek with glass in it, but did Jisung even get a scratch on him?

He parked the car and did the courtesy of walking you all the way up to your room so he knew you were safe. The air between you two was tense at the moment and now might not be the most appropriate time for Jisung to be thinking this, but holy shit, were you filthy rich or what. The lobby of your apartment complex had a full blown marble fountain smack dab in the middle of it! True, you were in medical school, so your money was hard-earned, but didn’t your Dad own this building, anyways? And of course you lived on the highest floor in the farthest corner of the entire complex. You must have an incredible view.

“Don’t leave home for the rest of the day, ok?” Jisung demanded once you reached your room. “If you have work later today or tonight or any other day, call me. I’ll drive you.”

“Ok, but you have to come inside first.”

“Why?”

“You need to clean up. Your scratched up hands, all the blood, you can’t go out in public like this the whole day.”

“I can do that later -”

“Please?” you begged. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

With your teary puppy dog eyes, how was he supposed to refuse? “Ok, but I can’t stay long.”

Your home isn’t exactly how he imagined it. Rather than huge expensive paintings and fancy golden vases and marble counter tops, your home was quite simple and clean. Minimalist was a good way to describe it, with bits and pieces of what made your home totally you. His personal favorite touches were the scattered coffee mugs, the ginormous fuzzy rug in the living room, and pictures of you and your friends hung up in different places.

You led him to the kitchen table. “Sit,” you ordered like he was your puppy.

He did as he was told while you ran to the bathroom to get your emergency kit full of all kinds of stuff that only hospital faculty could get their hands on. You came back with a huge plastic case and Jisung’s eyes widened.

“Damn, do you have the whole hospital in that thing!? You’re not gonna give me a shot, are you?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Good, I don’t do well with needles.”

“You don’t do well with needles, but you can shoot a perfect head shot?”

“Yes, and never forget that.”

You started at his face, taking a damp warm towel and wiping off the sticky blood. Jisung could have easily done it himself, but it was nice to be cared for like this once in a while - like he meant something to someone. He watched how your eyes moved bit by bit to make sure you wiped his face clean entirely. You could feel his eyes etching his name into your soul, but somehow you were able to ignore it this time. Maybe because you were too busy worrying.

“Stop worrying,” Jisung scolded.

“How can you tell?”

He then harshly poked your forehead. “Your eyebrows make you look stressed. You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” was all you could mutter out before you started cleaning his hands.

His hands were surprisingly warm - a striking contrast to your icy ones, like your blood was running cold. But they were soft - much softer than his calloused ones, and they felt nice. First, you wiped away the dirt and dry blood. Then, you took out the sanitizing solution and cotton swabs.

“This is going to sting,” you warned.

“Like… A lot?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Wait wait wait - ah -!” he shrieked loudly while yanking his hands to his chest. “Bro, that shit hurts!”

“Give me your hands back!”

“No!”

“Oh my God, how old are you?”

“Old enough to reject medical care if I want to!”

“You’re such a child. Some bad ass Hitman you are,” you sighed before packing up the emergency kit and putting it back in the bathroom. “If that gets infected, don’t come crawling back to me to fix it.”

You take a moment for yourself in the bathroom to calm down and try to process what happened this morning. You got into Jisung’s car, drove to the diner, ordered food, and then got in the middle of a shoot out. Somewhere in between there had to be some indication the shooting was going to happen, but you couldn’t recall any suspicions. Maybe they were just too good and neither you nor Jisung noticed them. Even though that was all over with, who’s to say that it won’t happen again any time soon? And how was your Dad going to clean up all the blood?

After collecting yourself, you joined Jisung back in the kitchen only to see him talking on the phone.

“I’ll be right there,” he said before hanging up.

“Is that my Dad?” you asked.

“Yeah. He wants me back at the office so I can tell him what happened. I told him you were safe and sound here at home.”

“You’re leaving…?”

Jisung walked up to you and laid his heavy hands on your heavy shoulders. “I have to report back to him now that you’re involved. If I don’t soon, you could be in really great danger, and I don’t want that to happen. Like I said, call me or text me if you need a ride anywhere, need to go to class or work, or just want to talk. Understand?” You nodded, trusting his every word. “Good. Now get some rest, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Can you text me once you get to my Dad’s?”

“Are you worrying about me now? A little backwards, isn’t it?” he teased. “I’ll text you as soon as I get there. I promise.”

Jisung left you to your own devices and you spent the following half hour closing all of the blinds, covering all of the windows, and crawling under your fluffy blankets waiting for Jisung to text you he was safe at your Dad’s. For a Hitman, he was acting more like a bodyguard than anything, but you can’t complain. Without him, you’re sure you would have been kidnapped by whomever was at the diner. You’re thankful for him, and he’s great company, too. Your mundane life was a little more exciting when he was around.

jisung [07:56]: I’m here at your Dad’s.

you [07:57]: good.

jisung [07:57]: Raincheck on breakfast?

you [07:59]: only if you’re paying.

jisung [08:01]: Sure thing. Rest well, _____.

You fell into a deep sleep.

The next time you saw Jisung was the following day when you told him you had an 8:00 am lecture. Jisung’s circadian rhythm may have no reasonable cycle, but even he knew that 8:00 am was way too early for class to start! His business lectures didn’t even start until nine! You felt terrible when he pulled up with messy hair and barely-opened eyes, but you were too terrified to travel without him. Besides, he offered! He’s totally consenting to this.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased. You held out one of your coffee thermoses to him and his eyes lit up like the sun. “Figured you needed some of this.”

“God, you have no idea.”

Jisung continued to drive you to and from places for weeks, whether it be to school, the hospital, or even to the grocery store or some general store. You thought he’d act more like a chauffeur than anything, but really he was acting more like your husband.

Grocery shopping often went like this:

“Kale? Really?” he gagged. “Can’t you buy some good food? You know, like meat and beer.”

“Do you live at my apartment and eat my food?”

“I will if it means you’ll eat good food. I should cook for you. I bet Dr. San can’t cook.”

Shopping at the general store went like this:

“Why are you buying such expensive towels? Just get the cheaper ones.”

“These are softer. Stop policing my shopping!”

“Quit throwing your money away!”

And then dropping you off at work went like this:

“Have a nice day at work, honey ~!” he screamed out the window. “Love you! Stay away from Dr. San!”

The rest of the week went about the same way and you were already tired of seeing Jisung’s annoyingly handsome face for that many days straight. On your only day off, just when you thought you were going to have a whole day of relaxing and staying home, a knock came at your door. At first, you’re terrified. Only a handful of people know where you live and nothing ever gets delivered right at your doorstep. You take one of your chef’s knives from the kitchen and approached the door cautiously.

“_____? It’s Jisung, open up.”

“Oh, for the love of -” When you opened the door, you pointed the knife lazily at him.

“Whoa, chill!”

“I didn’t call for your services.”

“‘Services’, what am I, a stripper? I know you didn’t. I’m here because your Dad wants to see you.”

“God, I hate it when he does this! He never gives me a heads up or anything! It’s my only day off, do I really have to go?”

“Yes. He said this is urgent. He also said to change into some work out clothes.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” You groaned in protest and dragged your feet back to your room to change. “Cute jammies, by the way.”

“Shut up.”

After changing into some clothes that you haven’t touched for months, Jisung drove you back to the Office in Hell. You had a feeling this had to do with the diner shooting earlier this week, which made national news. You for sure thought there was going to be some wanted pictures of you and Jisung fleeing the scene, but all the anchors mentioned was that all suspects ended up dying on the spot. Dad must have done something or paid some ungodly amount to the police so that you and Jisung were completely erased from the story, but you weren’t complaining. You didn’t want a bunch of reporters or police asking you questions.

The elevator ride down and the walk down the hallway doesn’t get any shorter the more you travel through it, but you would much rather have Mr. Hitman beside you instead of eight men in suits and sunglasses.

The second you walked through the door, you’re Dad ran to you and hugged you tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, are you ok?” he cooed, checking the scars on your cheek where the glass hit you. “My poor daughter! Those fuckers are going to pay -”

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are, all thanks to Jisung, right? Did I raise your pay yet like I said I would?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.”

“So what was so important that you called me here unannounced on my day off?”

“Right.” Inside your Dad’s fancy Dior suit jacket, he pulled out a pistol that matched Jisung’s and handed it over to you like it was a tv remote.

“Whoa, what the hell, Dad!?” you flinched, bumping your back into Jisung. “Why are you giving that to me?”

“You need it for self defense.”

“You think I know how to use that?”

“No, and that’s why Jisung is going to teach you. He’ll teach you how to shoot a gun, defend yourself if someone tries to kidnap you, the whole package.”

“Dad, you know I don’t want to be involved in this any more than I already am!” you whined, refusing to take the gun. “I’m digging a deeper hole for myself the more I’m around either of you. I can’t be doing this kind of stuff, I’m about to graduate!”

“I know. You know I fully support the life you chose as a doctor and I did my best to separate this lifestyle from you. But now you’re involved. People know your name, your face, where you work, and it’s my fault and there’s nothing I can do about it other than to give you what you need to protect yourself. I can’t let you walk around defenseless. Can you do this for me?”

You hated that he was right. If you were to walk away, he’d probably have Jisung and a bunch of his other men escort you everywhere you go and that’s the last thing you want. Reluctantly, you took the pistol from your Dad’s hands and he couldn’t look any prouder. You know the doljabi test that babies take when they turn one? The one with a pencil, some money, a sports-related thing, and various other objects that predicted the fate of your future? You’re almost positive your Dad snuck in a gun or a knife in there somewhere and your dumb ass took it so now fate was playing games with you and here you were with a heavy pistol in your hands.

“Jisung’s going to drive you to the shooting range and then to the gym for self defense. Sound good?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“You know I love you, right? Do this for me if you love me, too.”

“... Ok. Love you, too, Dad.”

He held you tightly one last time before you left with Hitman slash bodyguard slash self-defense trainer Jisung. He was silent for a bit thinking that saying anything would ruin the sentimental moment you were cherishing, but by the way you eyed the new toy in your hands, he figured he had to distract you somehow.

“Some couples have matching clothes, but you and I have matching pistols,” he teased, lifting his shirt to reveal the same one on his holster.

“Tch, couple. As if.”

“What, you don’t think we’d make a cute couple? The waitress at the diner thought so.”

“A Hitman and his boss’s daughter. Sounds like a drama.”

“I’d watch sixteen hours of it.”

The shooting range was indoors, so the drive didn’t take you out of the city. The inside was all black with the targets that you could barely see at the opposite side of the room. For a place colored black and filled with guns, you thought it’d be scarier, but somehow it was familiar. Jisung led you to the one all the way down at the end.

“Ready to play?” he asked while hanging up the target for you.

“No. I’m terrified, actually.”

“You’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Does it look like I have?”

“Right… Show me how you think you should stand.”

You awkwardly did your best to have your back straight, feet facing towards the target, and aimed your gun straight ahead with your arms straight.

“That’s good if you were just shooting here and not moving, but you’ll be moving a lot. Turn your hips like this.”

Jisung had his hands on your hips before you know it and if this was anyone besides him, you might have blushed a deep red. But simply because this was him, you can’t get over how overused this drama-style flirting situation was. He guided your hips to face slightly to the side and kept your torso facing forward.

“You want your hips to face the side so you can quickly turn around and shoot someone from behind if you need to. Does that make sense?”

His fingertips creeped under your shirt on accident and touched your skin. You felt the goosebumps travel through your arms. “Y-Yup!”

“Ok then. Lift up your arms.” His hands made sure your elbows were bent and shoulders steady before returning to ghost the skin of your waist. “Ready, aim, shoot.”

You pulled the trigger and the bullet totally missed.

The breath of Jisung’s hyena laugh tickled your ear and you couldn’t help but laugh, too. You hit him in the chest with your free hand.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I can’t help it! You were totally off!”

“Ugh, ok let me try again.”

Again and again you readied, aimed, and fired and the closest you got to a good shot was the shoulder. Your playlist the entire time was a grown man’s giggle.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re shooting. Like the personification of ‘pew pew’.”

“If we were to leave this facility and get into a shoot out, I would not survive, so can you please shut up and help me!?”

“Ok ok! Maybe it’ll be easier if you square out your hips like this.” Mr. Professional Hitman applied more pressure to his grip on your hips and evened out the spacing of your feet and the angle of your hips.

“Does that feel better?” he whispered.

Whoa, your heart was beating fast. “U-Uh, I-I guess…”

“Ok. Try one more time and we can try again some other day.”

You would rather die than try again some other day, so you focused all of whatever energy you had left into this one final shot. You pulled the trigger and the bullet whizzed through the target’s chest slightly to its left.

Jisung whistled, impressed that you caught on. “Right through the heart, baby.”

“Fuck yeah, finally.”

“I guess that’ll do for now. Ready for self-defense training?”

“Now? Like, right now?”

“It’s now or never. C’mon, the gym’s close by.”

Actually, the gym was right across the street. Jisung told you to go to the room that was under your Dad’s name and that he’d meet you after he was done changing into his own gym clothes. The room in your name had the floors covered in gross gym mats and all of the walls were mirrors. It reminded you of a boxing gym, but without all of the equipment. It was kind of creepy.

The door opened to reveal Jisung in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt - completely different than his normal black jeans and leather jacket get-up. This time you could clearly see his biceps and deltoids and you had to force yourself to look away before he caught you. It was too late. You were never going to hear the end if this.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your high-pitched voice gave you away. “I understand the gun training, but do I really need self-defense training? Do you really think I could defend myself against some huge dude?”

“I highly doubt that you can, but that’s why I’m going to show you some basic tips and tricks. Ready?”

“No.”

“That’s the spirit. So tell me this, Princess. If I’m walking up to you with my hands grabbing your arms so you don’t hit back, what will you do?”

Jisung did just as he described and took hold of both of your wrists so tightly that it was hard to believe he was playing with you. “I’d kick you in your nuts,” you said, fake-kneeing him and making him flinch.

“Ah, careful! Good, that was the right answer. What if I have my hands on your neck and try to cut off your circulation?”

His hand found his way to your neck. Rather than thinking of the right answer, you were thinking of something slightly less appropriate. Only slightly… should this be feeling good?

“_____ ~” Jisung teased. “What’s your answer?”

Oh, right. “U-Uh, aim for your eyes.”

“Good girl.”

You couldn’t recall how long you and Jisung were practicing, but you’re sure you had bruises on weird places of your body right now because for questions that you couldn’t answer, Bad Ass Hitman made you the offender and he’d play a little too roughly with you so you knew what to do in that scenario. Somewhere near the end, you’re sweaty, tired, frustrated, and ready to go home.

“Jisung, I’m tired,” you whined.

“I know, but we have to keep going for a little longer. I have to go through everything on the list Mr. _____ gave me.”

“Can’t we do that another time? I need food, I need a shower, and I need sleep before work tomorrow.”

“We can’t fall short on this, _____. You and I got lucky that no one touched you at the diner. But what am I to do if I’m not with you and someone takes you away, hm? Your Dad will be devastated! And I’ll never forgive myself for not taking the time to help you defend yourself.”

“I can defend myself! I’m not totally helpless you know! I answered most of those questions right, didn’t I? I don’t need you to babysit me all the time just because my Dad told you to. You don’t have to act like you care, in fact you didn’t have to do anything involving me ever. Just lie to my Dad and say you did and hell, I’ll even be your alibi, but stop acting like you care about me when really you’re just looking for my Dad’s approval and that approval is gone the second you step away from me, right?”

The air was tense. Then Jisung walked up to you, swept his feet from under you so you’d fall on your ass, and towered over you. His legs were on both sides of your hips so you couldn’t move your legs and his hands were occupied with pinning your arms to the mat. Everything happened in less than a second and it took you a couple more to adjust your eyes and realize what happened. You focused on Jisung’s face. His lips are pursed, brows furrowed, and overall he looked hurt.

“If I’m the enemy trying to take you away from me and I have you in a hold like this, how are you going to escape?”

Take you away from him?

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t because what he thought about you all along was right - you were just the weak, defenseless, stuck up daughter of his boss. You felt like crying, but that would only further confirm his speculations, so you held it in.

But that’s not what he thought about you at all. You may be this little Princess he’s looking out for, but if anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d probably go on some rampage, thinking irrationally and only doing what he could to get to you or find you or whatever these other mobsters wanted with you. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He wouldn’t. He didn’t know what to do with this effect you had on him, but it was his fault for deciding to roll with it.

It’s been a minute since Jisung asked you the question. Since that time has passed, you noticed his face softened and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was hurt - you said right to his face that you thought he didn’t genuinely care about it you at all. He couldn’t blame you, because you were right - this all started out because he was protecting you the way your Dad had ordered him to. But wasn’t it more than that by now?

You’re still pinned down and even when both of you realized it, neither of you moved from your positions. Instead, as if from the pull of the Earth’s core, Jisung leaned down almost too slowly. So slowly that you even bothered to strain your neck and meet his lips halfway.

His hands tightened their grip on your wrists like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips were soft, and they were sweet like cherry-flavored candy. You tasted sweet, too, but more like honey. He could kiss you for hours. He should have done this earlier.

Your ringtone echoed through the room.

“Phone!” you yelped in a panic, crawling out from under Jisung. Your fingers were all twitchy and had a hard finding your phone in your bag. “H-Hi, Dr. San?”

Jisung involuntarily chewed on the inside of his cheek when he heard that name coming from your lips.

“Right now? Can you give me an hour? Ok, thank you, I’ll be there soon.” When you turned back to look at Jisung, he was already packing his gym bag. “I got called into work.”

“Ok,” he said briefly. He sounded annoyed.

Again, the car ride was silent and awkward. Jisung had been good about driving safely while you were with him, but today he went back to his old ways, like the very first time he drove you to the hospital. You looked at him and was going to ask what was up, but he looked angry. Did he regret what just happened in the gym…?

No, it wasn’t that. It was that stupid handsome Dr. San who ruined his one and only perfectly imperfect kiss with you and you jumped at the opportunity to answer the phone and get away. What a childish way reason for him to be bad.

“I… didn’t mean what I said earlier,” you began awkwardly. “I don’t think of you as a babysitter or someone who sucks up to my Dad like that… I’m sorry.”

Jisung sighed. “Then what am I to you?”

You couldn’t answer that.

Even though he was annoyed, Jisung still opened the door for you, but avoided eye contact once you arrived at the hospital. You said your quick goodbyes and he watched you walk in just like every other time just so he knew you were one hundred and ten percent safe inside.

Halfway to the door, you turned around.

“Would you want to go with me to a party next weekend?” you asked quickly like a high school girl asking out her crush.

Jisung did his lovable eyebrow raise. “Go with you? As what, your bodyguard?”

“No. As my date.”

“Whoa, as your date?” You couldn’t tell if he was smirking because he was scoffing and couldn’t believe you would ask him such a stupid question or because you sent his ego into space again. You hoped for the latter. “Why don’t you ask your precious Dr. San?”

“I kind of don’t want to go with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I kind of want to go with you more.”

He bit his lip and you couldn’t help but think about kissing him again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“So…?”

“I’ll go.”

He swore your smile lit up the night sky brighter than the moon. “Pick me up after work?”

“Anything for you, _____.”

You talked about kissing Jisung to Somi your entire shift.

The next time he kissed you was ten hours later after the overnight shift.

“Kiss me,” he demanded when he dropped you home. Your back was pressed against the door as he towered over you.

“Seriously?” you blushed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“What’s the magic word ~?”

“Kiss me now?”

You were looking for please, but that was close enough, right? From then on, kissing was normal. Almost too normal, like you couldn’t keep your lips away from each other.

From the weekend you kissed him to the weekend of the party, you and Jisung hung out everyday all day. Sometimes it was training as your Dad’s Hitman and his precious Princess, but it was mostly as two people who liked each other. The other stuff was arbitrary. For once, you guys did normal things together, like cooking, shopping, playing games, and your favorite - kissing.

The hospital faculty party was going to be the first ‘date’ together publicly as a couple. Jisung always thought the firsts for anything were awkward, but not this - not with you. He was surprised to find out that everything with you happened naturally.

“Whoa…” was what Jisung said when he picked you up for the party. He knew the attire was formal, but never in his time of knowing you did he think he’s see you in something that made you shine like the stars. You were going to make everyone in the room turn their heads.

“Whoa yourself, even if you are in all black. Again.”

“I’m sexy though, right?”

“Very.”

The party wasn’t some adult house party or at a dinky banquet hall. No, this one was at the most expensive hotel in the city in the biggest ballroom. Decorated with jewel tones and gold accents, this party was the most extravagant party you and Jisung had ever attended. Everyone can thank your Dad for booking it. Anyone who was anyone was at this party and you wondered who was keeping it down at the hospital, but that wasn’t your problem tonight.

You spotted your group of friends over by the bar and where there was most traffic for the hors d'oeuvres. Typical. You took your hot date by the hand and walked over, finally getting the chance to introduce him to them, especially Somi.

“_____! Is this who I think it is!?” she gasped loudly.

“Guys, this is Jisung. Jisung, these are my co-workers.”

“Is that really all I am to you?” Somi and a couple of others fake-cried.

“Shut up.”

While Jisung was distracted with the food, Somi leaned in to whisper to you. “Hey, don’t look now, but Dr. San is staring.”

“Really?”

If Somi told you this months ago, you would have been all over that. But now you were just genuinely curious as to why. When you looked back, it was certainly true that he was staring, but he had his hot date right next to him, so why did it matter? Something was off.

“Jealous?” Jisung teased.

“Only that you have food. Sharing is caring.”

“No way, get your own!”

You disregarded Dr. San’s stares for the rest of the night. Your attention and affection were for Jisung and Jisung only. Whether it was his arm around your waist or your hands playing with his, there was always some sort of skinship shared between you two and you neither of you wanted to separate any time soon. So he took the initiative to pull you to the dance floor.

“Does my Dad’s Hitman know how to dance?”

“Of course! There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, baby.”

“I’ll know all of them eventually.”

“Ok, bet.”

The songs changed from upbeat bops, to goofy bops, then finally ended with the slow and sexy songs allowing Jisung to hold you close like he always wanted to. He’s done so behind closed doors a few times already, but this was different. He got to show you off to the whole world. To your friends, to strangers, and especially to Dr. San.

“Safe to say that I won, right?” Jisung asked, referring to the night that Mingi got stabbed.

“By a landslide.”

“What do I get?”

“Another kiss ~?”

“You know me so well.”

Your man dipped his head down and kissed you with all of the passion he held in every cell of his body. Even during the kiss, you could feel yourself getting light headed and all the blood went to your cheeks.

“Whoa,” you said once he pulled away. “When did you learn how to do THAT?”

“Like I said, there’s a lot of things you don’t know ~”

“I think I need a drink after that.”

His cute laugh rang in your ears. “Ok, I’ll be at our table.”

You got a couple of sodas for you and your date so you could boost your blood sugar back up. While waiting, you overlooked the entire room full of people you worked. Even then, your eyes still found their way to Jisung. He was happily talking to Somi and the rest of the girls probably talking about how you two met. As if knowing you were looking, he returned your gaze and did his cute little wink so he could see you blush again. Well, it worked, because now you were smiling like an idiot and staring at your shoes.

“_____,” Dr. San said, tearing you away from your thoughts.

The handsome man was smiling down at you when you looked up. He was wasn’t with his date at the moment, so it was just you two.

“Dr. San, hi. How are you?” you asked.

“I’m doing well. Yourself?”

“I’m doing very well.”

“Really? I knew there was something different about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling a lot more. Your cheeks are practically glowing. It’s charming.” Cutely, he pinched your cheek.

You didn’t think anything of it, but oh man, did Jisung think otherwise. Now he was angry. It wasn’t your fault, and maybe he shouldn’t even be angry in the first place, but like HELL was he going to let some fucking tacky-ass doctor be friendly with you like that.

“Is someone else making you blush the way I used to?” Dr. San asked.

“I-I guess? You knew about that?”

“Of course. I thought you were cute, too. I could still make you feel that way.”

“Dr. San…?”

He took steps closer to you. “You should be with a real man.”

Just in time, Jisung stepped in between before this creep could touch you again.

“Back off,” Jisung sneered. Uh-oh, this wasn’t going to end well…

“I’m not doing anything,” Dr. San said calmly. “We’re just talking.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me.”

“You��re just a thug. What are you even doing here? She’s too good for you.”

Before Jisung could land a punch on him, you held him by the waist and laid your chin on his shoulder. That stopped him dead in his tracks and he hated how weak he fell when you held him like that.

“Don’t do it,” you whispered. “He’s not worth it. Let’s go home, ok?”

Your Hitman didn’t answer. Rather he took your hand and walked swiftly towards the exit.

“See you Monday, _____ ~” Dr. San sang tauntingly.

“What an asshole… Can’t believe I ever liked that guy.”

When you arrived outside, Jisung let go of your hand and wiped the sweat on his nice dress pants. He walked a few steps ahead of you to take some time to cool off before he talked because he knew if he didn’t, he’d say something wrong and maybe you’d run away. After running a hand through his hair, he turned back around to see you smiling and waiting patiently. It was so hard for him to believe he had you.

“Are you ok?” you asked.

“Yeah… Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Just seeing him with you like that… It really got under my skin.”

“You must like me, huh?”

“Nah, that can’t be it…”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m kidding,” he said, his hands finding their way back to your waist. “I like you. A lot. Almost too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much.”

Your annoying ringtone yet again ruined the moment between you and your man. Normally, you had your phone on silent, but you only let it ring when important people like your Dad, Jisung, and Dr. San were texting you. You checked and saw it was a message from Dr. San.

He sent you a picture of your Dad in a room with no windows tied up to a chair and beaten bloody with only “₩10B by 3AM” and an unknown address written.

“J-Ji-Jisung…” you stuttered. “W-What does this mean…?”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed at the image on your phone. Now he was furious. He knew there was something wrong with that guy from the get-go. “I’ll call for our crew in the car. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung sprinted to his car in the eerie underground parking lot. What if Dr. San was watching you right now? Watching you run away with a man that wasn’t him. Watching your every move so he knew you were following his demands.

Panic flowed through your entire body and you were finding it hard to breathe evenly. Your Dad was your entire world and now someone - Dr. San, of all people - had him. What were you to do without your rock? The only man who ever believed in you?

“What are we going to do?” you asked once you both were in the car. It sounded like you were crying, but no tears were present.

“We’re going to get your Dad, but it’s going to be messy.”

“But what about the money? I have it, won’t that be easiest?”

“First thing’s first about this line of business is to never trust anyone. Even if we have the money, who knows what they’ll do in that time? We’ll get the money, but we need to be quick and we need to be prepared to fight back, is that clear?” From inside his suit coat, he pulled out his pistol and gave it to you. “Are you ready to show me what you’ve learned?”

“What about you?”

“I have mine,” he said, revealing the one on his belt. “I brought yours just in case because I knew some shit was going to go down. This night sounded too perfect to be true.”

“I-I don’t even know the time…! What if it’s past three already!?”

“It’s 10:25. _____, look at me.” Through your panicked and shifty eyes, you tried to focus on Jisung’s calm and handsome face. It was helpful when he held your hand. “We’re going to find him, but I need you to stay calm, ok? I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I could never. Are you ready?” When you nodded, Jisung wasted no time and started the car. “Let’s fucking go.”

First thing’s first - go to your Dad’s office and find ₩10B lying around. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? You knew the password to the safe that was embedded in the wall and hidden behind one of the bookshelves. That was probably what Dr. San was looking for.

Dr. San… Who was he in all of this? Was he like your Dad, the leader of the pack? Or was he more like Jisung, the guy who did all of the dirty work? And why would an accomplished doctor like him need a side hustle like this? How did he even have the time!?

Entering the long hallway that led to Dad’s office was scarier at night with the possibilities of an ambush. Ahead of you, Jisung pulled out his pistol, indicating that you should do the same. With shaky and unsteady hands, you followed his lead. Despite the circumstance, dressed in your formal wear holding a gun next to your man made you feel kind of invincible - like you could do anything with Jisung by your side and look good doing it.

The office really looked like it came from hell when you entered. Everything was flipped upside down, all of Dad’s papers were everywhere, the books on his shelves were on the floor, and the cocaine corner was completely empty. Dr. San’s men did major work in such a short amount of time.

“The safe is behind the shelf,” Jisung instructed. “I’ll watch your back while you open it.”

“You know about that safe? And know that I know the code?”

“Mr. _____ trusted me almost too much.”

The safe combination was rotated between yours and your Dad’s social security number and you had to get it right in three tries or else you were locked out for twenty-four hours. This time it was yours. You’ve never opened it before or even knew what was in it, so when you opened it both you and Jisung could not believe how much money was stashed.

“So this is where my paycheck comes from.” Jisung handed you one of the many black duffle bags your Dad owned. “Start counting, babe.”

Even with ₩10B in the bag, there’s barely a dent in the safe. You both knew your Dad was filthy rich, but this safe was downright NASTY. When you save Dad from this whole mess, you’ll convince him to never do this drug stuff ever again. He could live luxuriously and then some with just half of what was in the safe.

The next step was to go to the unknown address. Jisung couldn’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. You must have been scared, furious, worried, or all of the above. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over to hold on to yours and there’s a wave of relieve that washed over you. It didn’t last long when the GPS lead you to an empty warehouse under a bridge with only your men’s cars filling up the property. The second they saw Jisung’s car, they all came out. Did Dad really have this many men in his army? You don’t even think you’ve seen some of these men before.

“Miss _____,” the leader of the pack greeted politely. “What’s the move?”

“I-I don’t know… Why are you asking me?”

“You’re next in charge, aren’t you?”

“Uh… Jisung, help?” you nudged.

“We’re going to go in there, give them the money, and demand Mr. _____ back. Be prepared if they disagree or things get heated. There are two number one priorities here - bring back Mr. _____ alive and keep _____ safe. Is that clear?” All the men nodded obediently. “Go!”

A couple of the men broke down the door. Instead of the building being an intricate maze of hallways and arbitrary rooms, it was just one big, empty gray space and your Dad was tied to a chair right in the middle of it, not moving.

“Dad!” you cried out, running past all of the loyal men.

“_____, get back here!”

Jisung couldn’t let you run alone in such an open room with potential shooters hiding God knows where, so he ran after you and kept an eye out for all hidden corners and crevices. The tears you kept hidden these last few hours all flowed freely the closer you ran to him. It felt like you were running a marathon on the longest treadmill. The closer you got, the more you could see the fresh blood oozing out of his body and when you reached him, you knew why he wasn’t moving.

He was already shot dead.

“Dad?” you whimpered, shaking him by his cold, limp shoulders. “Come on, wake up…! I’m here!”

“_____, it’s a trap,” Jisung warned. “We have to go -!”

“No, not without my Dad -!”

“_____, look at me.”

Jisung tore you away from trying to untie your dead Dad and held you by your face. Your crying and sobbing echoed so loudly throughout the room. It broke his heart to see you this way. He hoped to never see you like this ever again.

“We have to go. It’s not safe for you here. My priority is to keep you safe, remember?”

“But Dad -!”

“I know, baby, I know. You know what we’re going to do?” You shook your head. “You’re going to take over your Dad’s spot. You are going to rule this Kingdom and we’re going to get our revenge.”

“Revenge?” Revenge sounded good.

“Yup. You’re going to sit in your Dad’s office and run that shit like nothing happened, right? You’re going to keep this business running. And we’re going to find Dr. San and find all the other men responsible then we’re going to get our revenge. And I’m going to be right beside you the whole time, ok? Do you trust me?”

You could only nod. His plan sounded perfect.

“If you want to do this, we have to get out of here. Now.”

You let Jisung take the lead by helping you up. He dropped the bag of money next to your bleeding Dad, took you by the hand, and ran. There’s no shooting to be heard, no other footsteps, hell you couldn’t even hear any breathing. Was anyone even here? Why the fuck did they even bother if they already killed your father!?

“Grab the body and take it to get prepped for a memorial. Watch out for snipers,” Jisung warned.

The rest of the men stayed back when you and Jisung left to get you safe inside the car.

“Why did you leave the money? Dad was already shot,” you asked.

“Dr. San or whomever he works for only wanted the money. They didn’t care about negotiating. They have that place bugged. If we didn’t leave it, something bad was going to happen to you. I’ll throw away ₩10B any day as long as you’re left untouched.”

“Dr. San… no wonder he tried to get closer to me. Not too obvious, but not too subtle, either. He knew a lot about my relationship with Dad, too.”

“Like what?”

“I told him I chose med school because I didn’t want to take over Dad’s business. He knew if they killed my Dad, the company’s Drug Pushing days would be over. God, I’m such an idiot!”

“Hey, that’s not your fault. You had no idea some tacky doctor could be involved in this life.”

“Yeah, and now I’m going to be. I’ll be doing exactly what I never wanted in the first place. But this is for Dad. I have to do this, right?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“You’re right. Now I want to.”

“_____-”

“It’s ok. This is for Dad - I can do this. I-I think… You said you’d be there with me, right?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Princess.”

“Good... Where are we going now?”

“To your home. You need rest, you had a long day. Then tomorrow, we’ll clean up your new office, and I’ll show you the ups and downs of this God-forsaken business.”

“I’m both terrified and excited.”

“Maybe you were meant for this job all along.”

“Dad used to say shit like that, too. Maybe you’re both right...”

Your heart was incredibly heavy when you arrived home. You needed your bed to hold all of the weight of your sorrow. Seeing your Dad dead and tied up like a pot roast was one kind heartbreak, but realizing he was gone forever was another. You couldn’t be alone tonight.

“Don’t leave me,” you begged Jisung.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?”

“And tomorrow... Maybe for the whole week... And then some...”

His light chuckle rang in your ear and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you.”

EPILOGUE

Life is simple. Life is spent calmly after your Dad’s memorial and taking over the Soju business and cocaine side hustle. It took you a while to adjust from med student life to business student life, but you’re thankful for Jisung who helped you with the transition and studying every step of the way. It wasn’t as bad as you thought - then again, business students don’t have overnight shifts.

Being the CEO meant you knew the recipe of the Soju and who to pay in whatever amount. You were more like the overseer. As time passes, you’ll learn the rest of the ins and outs on the go, so you’re not as worried.

Besides, you have your hands full with cocaine, among other things.

“_____?” Jisung opens the door to your office with a triumphant smirk on his lips. “Dr. San’s ready to see you.”

“Thanks, love,” you said. You take your shiny pistol out from your holster. “Can’t wait to see him.”

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