#on this and i keep adding things LMFAO

[teethands]

i think i have finally created what i think is a decent system for knapping. right clicking with a new item called a leg guard in hand will open up an interface where the knapping process can begin, which can be used repeatedly to shape pieces of (currently) flint and obsidian into tools. flint is the easiest and most widely available material here so i am thinking about adding some other stones or the ability to hit peices of certain stone off of blocks and use those in knapping. a sort of progression to work up towards stronger materials as you find deposits of different stone. the GUI is done though i need to add flare .... working on flint tools now that the system is working and bug-free. ive kind of started shifting my focus away from ecology and focusing more on technology again. i want to get a few more interesting systems out before i release 1.0.0. however most animals are done and fully animated and their taming mechanics are mostly bug-free

[peteytheparrot]

Lil messy comic I made for the shits n giggles

[fishareglorious]

the r1999 webbedsite discord is in the works, just need to learn more about making the groups because i am a seventy year old grandparent when it comes to anything discrod

[collectivecloseness]

(Small thoughts about Yan! Fruity four) Thinking about when another incident like the first with the Yan! Fruity four would happen again 😌 like CLEARLY that won’t be the last time for it to happen—- like what happens if Nancy deliberately pushes the reader off somewhere somewhat high after they have a disagreement in public. And without the reader even being aware of it. They can all play doctor while readers legs heal, but would Nancy even tell the truth about what happened, and even if she did, what would they do about it?

BROOOOO. I s2g I could talk about the yandere fruity four so much, thank you for contributing 💕

(Cw: yandere, physical injury)

There’s been tension between you and Nancy recently, it’s obvious to at least her. No like big arguments or anything (nothing for you and the other three to be suspicious of afterwards, type of deal, even though she wasn’t planning this) but just small things. At first Nancy wavered between being pissed off, and feeling bad because she just wanted you back in her arms, where she could apologise and baby you in her lap and have you hold her back. But recently it’s been more Nancy seeing you in the wrong.

This time you had visited Nancy at her work. Her office at the newspaper’s was a few floors up, and you’d come to bring her some lunch from a local restaurant she liked, and hang out with her during her break. Which was when an extremely annoying coworker of Nancy’s knocked on her door, and asked who the beautiful madame she had in her office was, with a big smile, and a friendly bow to you.

Suffice to say, Nancy was pissed. Yes of course you are beautiful but you aren’t available!! Nancy’s already started off in an angry mood, because of a particularly harsh dream she’d had last night (one where she woke up, knowing at least she didn’t act that angry and malevolent towards you as she had in those scenes from her sleep, and maybe you should be grateful she always keeps her cool, maybe you need to realise how hard she really tries for you). Not to mention work had been shitty, she’d even been snappy at her coworkers she usually got one with on better days.

Of course she’s been a little better since you came to surprise her at work, not only with a meal you remembered she’d liked, but just because you wanted to hang out with her! Maybe she was being a little pissy with you recently, considering you still came to spend time with her like everything was normal still in your loving relationship. But then you’d shaken off Nancy’s, admittedly heated, comments about her asshole coworker. He was flirting with you, right in front of her, and you were waving Nancy off!

Not only that, but as you both binned your lunches and Nancy was starting to walk you out her office, you were starting to argue with Nancy, just because she wouldn’t calm down because you were acting so crazy and ungrateful and stupidly ignorantly blind for not seeing he was obviously flirting with you, and you were taking his side! Over Nancy’s! Your supposed girlfriends!

Not only that, but now you’re accusing Nancy of being possessive??! Like she’s not just trying to protect you!?! Like she ALWAYS DOES!? AS IF SHE’S NOT CONSTANTLY PROTECTING YOU, WITH THE OTHERS, AND PROTECTING YOU FROM EVEN KNOWING HOW HARD SHE TRIES TO LOOK AFTER YOU, EVEN WHEN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT’S BEST FOR YOU?!!!

And you’re saying your going to tell her other partners just how out of your boundaries she’d been lately. Like you’d been thinking about this forever! You were going to tell her partners that you didn’t like her behaviour, when you were the one who didn’t care that someone was flirting with you! Even though Nancy clearly knows your lovers better than you do, because why would they want someone flirting with you either, especially since they’re not stupid, they know how easy the things they love, you, could be taken away from them.

Or did you only not care, or even like, this guys advances because it was around Nancy? Would you have been more defensive, more confrontational, less dismissive, if you were around one of your other lovers? Maybe you loved them more than her? Maybe you just didn’t care about Nancy that much at all really. Maybe you had it twisted. Maybe you didn’t think you needed her to protect you anymore. Maybe you didn’t want her!

“Hey y/n stop walking away from me!”

STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!

You’re both on the second floor stairwell, you walking faster the more annoyed you get, like you just can’t wait to leave Nancy, while she’s chasing you, still trying to get you to just be on her side.

She pushes you when your back is turned. It was just heat of the moment, she was so angry. Even though she feels that anger still as you fall by her hands, she also feels panic, and her hands want to reach out for you, to save you, even though her body stays angrily out in push mode.

Your body rolls not sideways, but from the front, as you fall. Nancy walks down the flight of stairs slowly once you’re on ground, your scream cut off short when you hit the platform.

She checks you’re still breathing, a small kissing of her teeth as she’s glad you’re fine, and then lifts your cheek to check your head on the side where you fell, finding no blood pouring onto the floor. Another good sign. At least she doesn’t have to think too hard about her, admittedly impulsiveness, being too stupid.

Nancy shakes you, with a “y/n?” But as she looks again at the, dry, concrete floor platform at the end of the stairs, and Nancy looks back to your knocked out form on the ground, she realises this was a bad place to push you.

Nancy looks at way your body fell, and even though she still feels pissed at your response, and Nancy can tell through some introspection that she doesn’t really feel, quite, guilty over what she’s done, she is still worried about you. She doesn’t want you to be hurt. She could never dream of that for you! You’re so important to her, you’re her love, of course she’d protect you from injury. The guilt sets in a little via dread seeping into her lungs with a gulp. Not because she believes she was in the wrong still, but she didn’t mean to hurt you badly! She’d never take it that far. Not at least for this!

She should have controlled herself, she should have been the smart one, done something else to solve all this! Nancy goes to the emergency phone in the stairwell and dials 911, looking only at your passed out form and keeping her eyes sharp for any movement or groans from you. “Hello, 911, wh-“

“I need an ambulance.” Nancy gives the address straight away, the floor as well, keeping calm so no one would waste time while trying to get you the help you needed. But then when she was trying to figure out how to explain what happened, a more frantic voice started bubbling out of her. Hoping it would make the responders come quicker, make it seem like your fall was a big issue, all as Nancy explained how you’d tripped, and fallen all the way down the flight of concrete stairs.

Her frantic expressiveness leads to Nancy starting to call for help, with a louder voice now, yelling in the echoey stairway, so some people in her building come come, and she could order them to go get help as well. She doesn’t need anyone else because she’s enough to help you. Nancy doesn’t need a crowd, it won’t help you. Nancy’s the only one who should be soothing you right now, stroking your hair, calling you honey, trying to lure you awake with your musical name, comforting you... But if someone could find a doctor in the building that’d be good.

Nancy could know more about your condition then, or get you help if you need it more immediately. Obviously worries about you breaking something like your back are there, although Nancy hopes those stairs can’t have done that much. But as she strokes your arm and continually calls your name, someone, actually one of her bosses, having run to find a medical professional in the building, finally in your sleep she notices you twitch. Your hand flexing, and Nancy hopes that it’s not just an involuntary muscle spasm, or a hint of further injury, and it’s actually a sign of you being able to move.

Her managing editor comes back with someone who must be a medical professional of some kind, Nancy’s first question, after “Are they alright?!” Because they immediately skid to your side, with a neat looking backpack thrown to the floor. A crowd has also followed them, Nancy getting slightly pissed that they’re all blocking the doorway, even though the paramedics would obviously yell at them to move when they arrived. She just focused on brushing your cool cheek and listening to what this off duty emt, who was a lifestyle writers husband, had to say. Clearly a lot of lovers visiting over lunch.

With this group of people though, it at least allowed Nancy to take you as her priority. Spotting one person in the crowd, and looking them in the eyes as she beckoned them forward. Mostly because she spotted the pen in their front pocket. They even tore off their cardigan to write on their arm, no one who worked at the newspapers seemingly carrying any paper, jotting down the number of Steve’s home, and the message Nancy wanted them to call with. Telling the others what had happened, that you’d fallen down the stairs at her work and were unresponsive, and to meet her at the hospital as she’d be going in the ambulance with you.

She knows Steve’s house is a bit far from her work, so by the time the ambulance arrives, which should only be several minutes from now, you and Nancy would already be at the hospital. The others would be able to give your name at the front desk, and meet Nancy there. Who knows where the doctors would have taken you by then...

Nancy’s holding your hand the entire ambulance ride. When she’s walking there with you, still unconscious on the stretcher out the building, and some idiot who doesn’t move so they can watch the action bumps into her and nearly knocks Nancy’s hand out of yours... Nancy swears she could kill her. Next time she saw them, she swears they’re done.

She only lets you go when the paramedics tell her to, Nancy watching closely as they shine lights in your eyes, to also see if you respond. When they ask “Y/n? Can you hear us? Nancy’s here with you.” Her heart skips a beat. She hopes you’re comforted, you push more for her, knowing she’s right be your side. And she also hopes you don’t know that she pushed you.

This was another thing Nancy stupidly hadn’t thought about when she was trying to teach you a lesson. What if you knew? What if you felt her hands? What if you remembered? What if you hated her. What if you told the others? What if you told everyone?

Some doctors tell Nancy to wait outside as you’re strolled into a closed off room, neck brace covering the pretty necklace bought by all four of your lovers, a symbolic present for when you first became part of their family, that you always wore.

She didn’t want to risk being thrown out, so Nancy waited outside fretfully, but quietly, trying to walk up and down to see inside the room, with no such luck. They were taking forever with you! What did they know?

Nancy hears Eddie, Steve and Robin, long before she sees them. And not even because she was so accustomed to the sounds of their running patterns, or because of the people complaining in the hallways about people running, but because she could her your lovers calling your name terrified.

They all rush up to Nancy, pulling her into a hug, Robin squeezing her arms tight around Nancy as she sobs, while they ask where are you, and what have the doctors said, what even happened?!!

Nancy says you fell, and the others feel a mix of guilt for her, and also anger, like they would have caught you if it was them, but before they can continue the doctors are rolling you out, now attached to some iv, and they’re all reaching for the sides of your hospital bed, following you as they ask what’s going on. Their eyes wandering all over your body because you’re still not awake. Hands reaching to gently hold you, they just need to touch you, but so scared of accidentally hurting you.

The doctors and nurses walk with you and your lovers as they try to get a word in edgeways, explaining your injuries.

You hit your head in a couple of places, falling down those hard stairs. Luckily, you shouldn’t need to be placed into a medically induced coma, and there’s no signs of permanent damage, they predict you’ll be awake in a couple of hours, and will monitor your brain extremely regularly.

You were lucky only one of your legs was broken. Your left was still pretty fucked up, bruised and bashed to hell, some battered and torn muscles, a dislocated knee, sprained ankle, a two fractured toes. Even though only your right leg was broken, it was however was broken in two places, your tibia and fibula. Luckily though this meant, depending on how much your left leg hurt, you’d be able to use crutches within a week or so, if necessary. A wheelchair was more recommend for now.

Even Nancy knew the others would not be letting you get up to use your crutches to limp around. It would be the wheelchair, or being carried in someone’s arms, if you weren’t being tucked tightly into bed where they could be with you while you rest. Until doctors recommended the crutches to help with physical therapy and healing, then they’d be infighting with each other between trying to help you try as hard as you can, versus being too worried and wanting to coddle you into not straining yourself. Even as one of them, Nancy knew them so well.

You had only a sprained wrist, although it looked very beaten, all the damage was seemingly superficial, with a possible dislocated shoulder, and a deeper scrape on your forearm, from where you probably tried defending your head as you fell, this explanation plummeting sobs from three of your four lovers in the room. But again, that would heal, and a lot of your arm injuries were very minor for what they could’ve been.

A crack in your ribs however was present. Small, you’d still be able to walk soon, but another injury to add to the list. Your hips were fortunate to be undamaged, but just further up your torso was littered with deep bruises, especially discoloured around that bottom rib, the markings all over; something Steve would discover an hour later, when going to loosen your bra, because you always said it hurt if you fell asleep in it, and while trying to snifflingly ease your pain, he instead caused himself and the others more.

A small patch of scrapes littered up the very side of your cheekbone and head, just to the left of your hairline, and a nurse warned them not to be alarmed if any bruising or swelling in your face started to appear soon.

They all winced at this mention, Eddie seemingly being the only brave enough one to reach out at that point, and lightly stroke his fingers under your cheekbone, just past where those nasty scrapes were. He stayed doing so, knowing he was comforting you, even if asleep, until a nurse wanted to patch them up a bit, as they hadn’t exactly been high priority. When Eddie moved, he kissed your lips too, a loving gesture that he knew you’d feel, a promise to you he wasn’t going far at all, he was going right back to your other side and stroking your bare arm there. Eddie had just wished his kiss had worked, and awoken you from your dreadful, cursed, state, so he could really be your fairytale hero. He hoped you still thought of him as that anyway, even while like this.

At this point, it’d been a few months since the baseball bat ordeal. It had been slightly forgotten by now, at least not thought about very often. And with the shock of you being injured, with that hurried phone call from a scared stranger about you sending chill’s down Steve’s spine, Steve’s words shocking fear right into the hearts of Eddie and Robin, watching you here, hurt, unresponsive in their arms, the shock wasn’t making them think back to past events. They were all just too scared for you. Upset that you’d been so hurt, and they hadn’t been there to help you, to catch you, to be with you, to save you.

Even if you’d fallen down at home, their stairs are soft and carpeted, you have rails you can hold, you’d have been surrounded by your loves, the ones who’d always help you the most.

You were so much safer at home. This is what the always feared, but pushed aside for your happiness. You shouldn’t just risk going out into that harsh world.

When you wake up, after a few hours and lots of different doctors coming in and doing things, Eddie Steve and Robin burst into tears. Nancy’s too nervous to cry. All four come closer, swallowing you in a hug, close knit sweat and tears and cried panting breaths and sobs and whispers of your name all enveloping.

Eddie already laying in your bed with you, because he screamed if any of the other three tried to move him, and so they decided to stop, especially since he wasn’t on any wires and he wasn’t hurting you. If anything maybe he was really healing you. And he had some slight trauma with hospitals after people were hurt during the fight against Vecna, so they let him be close to you.

Eddie stayed curled up laid out by your side. Sniffling, stroking your smooth cheek, away from your scrapes, and your messy hair, his dark puppy eyes just staring at you. Breathing through his mouth, until Nancy eventually handed him a tissue. Just wanting to lay there, his hands still gently holding you, and watch you, laying right there with you, until you woke up.

Robin had been sitting in the small space on your bed on your other side, too scared of holding your hand with the iv in, but blubbering words to you faster than you’d probably be able to hear even if you were awake, her hand never leaving your less injured forearm though. Trying desperately not to sink her nails in to you too tight, and also shaking so much she was afraid she’d accidentally let go. Some of her words including swearing that she wasn’t going to let you out of her sight again. Sweeter things, like she’d be there for you. And upset rambles that she’ll never let you leave home again, and she’d rather have you chained to her than out of her reach again. Things too frenziedly mumbled, and in a tone that the others understood Robin probably didn’t even realise she was saying, or care she was so upset, but sentiments everyone was silent at because they couldn’t deny, they’d all been thinking things on other levels of those ideas themselves.

Steve wasn’t afraid to hold your hand with the pain meds injected in, he was gentle. He didn’t touch near the needle, but his thumb rubbed up and down warmly, his hand never left yours, fingers interlocked, with a reassuring hold.

He’d moved the armchair in the corner of the room right up to the bed, Robin’s feet resting on top of his legs, which kinda helped both of them, as he leant his elbows by her own thighs, staring deeply at your sleeping face with the most intent brown eyes. Blocked from the view on the opposite end, of Eddie’s dark brown eyes wetly staring at you on his own side too.

Steve held his chin up with his hands, the only reason his leg stopped bouncing in intervals was Robin’s own legs on top of his. Sometimes bringing your hand up, and holding his chin with that too, whenever he leant his head down to kiss it, tears falling and rolling onto your cool skin also. “Please baby. You gotta wake up. Come back to me y/n.” Steve would whisper occasionally to you. Just like how they’d all talk to you. Quietly, but uncaring if the others heard, because their love was private enough in this room with their family.

Although sometimes the cries of words were loud and shattering instead.

But Steve’s other phrase he repeated a lot, with those eyes kept on you each time he said it, the only words he’d have to look at you for, were “I promise.” He never elaborated. He probably wasn’t even thinking about it. But Steve had so many promises for you. Promises to be a better boyfriend. Be the man you deserve. Be your protector. Bring you back. Look after you properly. Do anything and everything for you. Steve promised all of this, if only you’d come back to him. He knew you knew what he meant though. Of course you did, your love was strong enough for that, Steve knew you understood him.

When you awake, the first thing you say is “Are you okay?” Because all you can see is the faces of the people you love most crying, red, and heartbroken. Heartbroken, but so relieved.

And God... if that being your first reaction to waking up in a hospital bed, doesn’t just prove to them that you are extraordinary. You are so perfect, you’re so kind to them, so so loving and so egregiously loved, and that you are too good for this harsh world, someone who needs to be protected from it, no matter what they’ll do anything to do that.

The second thing you ask is of course “What happened?” Waking and feeling groggy, coming out of your state of unconsciousness, too shocked and bleary, and of course pumped full of pain meds, to really feel any pain right now.

Steve asks how you feel while Nancy asks you to try and move something, over the top of each other. Steve uses the call button quickly, and as you’re getting used to the weird feeling, and the sight, of having a big chunky cast on one of your legs, you wriggle your toes on your opposite foot effortlessly.

Something you get drowned in praise for. Which you can’t deny, feels good. You’re always praised by all four of your lovers, so much so sometimes, but you could get used to being smothered in praise just for wriggling your toes. Or maybe that’s still the daze.

Having your lovers shower you in, careful, hugs and kisses, people swapping who’s holding your face and looking down at you so lovingly, all the kind wonderfully praising words down at you with genuine meaning, and most of all, watching your partners faces go from tear stricken to smiling like they’re high, full of a shoot up of relief, finally happy, pride for you, hopeful, a few tears still falling from a couple of them, but falling because their eyes crinkle as their smiles stretch so wide showing their beautiful teeth it must be hurting their lips. Laughs coming from their throats with a certain roughness from their past crying, and so many loving words surrounding you more and more, and more.

Relieved that you can move, they all saw it for themselves, and having already called the doctor, you ask again what happened.

Boy does Nancy feel relief with that question. Of course you still look groggy, not that anyone would say that of course, all four of them were cradling you in their hands and calling you beautiful. The heartfelt, starry and teary looks in the others eyes, they are being so genuine when they say that. They’re seeing you open your eyes again, looking at them, and bruised or not, you are beautiful.

But Nancy does believe you’ll be none the wiser. Which is lucky for her, again. One cynical part of Nancy’s brain does speak up then, thinking that it’s probably better that their luck run out soon, otherwise Nancy may be less apprehensive doing worse things in the future. Worse things for you. Of course Nancy would only do what’s best though. She just has to try and remember that.

And maybe remember that she’s supposed to be the more restrained one of the group. After last time as well, she definitely doesn’t want to let the others down too. And she wants to be good enough for you, she just wants you to still love her, that’s what’s good enough for Nancy.

Needless to say you’re not being left alone at that hospital. Because you woke up some time before visiting hours were over, the hospital only allowed one person to stay overnight. Steve and Nancy both tried to see if there was any leeway, but with no luck. Surprisingly Robin was the one who nearly got into a big argument with the nurse who had told them so. But luckily Steve had managed to calm her down (and grab her before she could leap at someone).

Whilst Eddie, done with begging, simply stayed nuzzling into your collar, his small tears weeping against your skin whenever he buried his face more. While the others argued he was pretty quiet, wanting to spend his time all with you, and happy with your petting and loving scritching of his head and curls back. At least he got to be with you for longer, and while the others fought.

But Steve and Nancy revealed to a shaking with adrenaline Robin that they needed to stay lowkey. And she let herself be calmed by Steve’s hug, while Nancy rubbed her shoulders, the three all turning to look at you in the now quiet of the room, and Eddie peering up at you too. Honestly you were used to having their eyes on you by this point, very used, but this was a whole other level.

Your other three lovers were actually very valiant, and all agreed Nancy should be the one to stay, before anyone could even put their name in the hat. She’s the one who watched you fall, she’s the one who had to check on you and wait with you, they all let her go first. Something Nancy bowed her head at, with a pink faced thank you. But they all knew it was an easier decision, because the three were breaking back into your room as soon as lights were out for the night.

And it was pretty easy, no one questions you when you look confident with where you’re going, and everyone who worked at the hospital was too tired to even notice them. So half an hour after saying bye, and holding Nancy’s hand and chatting about what she must’ve been thinking when you fell, you had your three loves quietly coming back into your room, and kissing your lips with slight teariness again, because they’d been panicking so at not being able to see you for those past 32 minutes.

You are even more of a princess now, than when you first agreed to go out with all of them

You’ll never have less than two people in your room, more like three, but mostly all four of them. Someone will only be gone when they’re leaving to get you breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks from your favourite places, so you don’t have to eat that yucky hospital food.

You’ll only be minus two when one of them needs to have a cry or talk to another, and they don’t want to do it in front of you. Steve, Robin, or Eddie would leave, and would usually be followed by one of the others, when caught with that obvious need to talk.

You’re brought a different bouquet of flowers handpicked individually by each one of your lovers every single day. The first time was hospital flowers, because no one wanted to leave so far when you were still so freshly hurt. The wounds of it were fresh with them as well. The McDonald’s only across the road got a lot of money that first day. But when you sweetly asked for pizza the next day at lunch, everyone scrambled to see if anywhere would deliver, or where the closest- you said you wanted Pizza Hut? Got it. Where the closest Pizza Hut was.

Presents and anything you needed, anything you wanted, anything they felt the urge to get, was brought to you. Either by them, or asking others to grab stuff, so they could stay with you. They loved knowing they had such good friends that they could genuinely rely on, in times like this too.

They felt better watching you brighten up with your visitors. Dustin came, bringing some board games and other items you might want with a key Steve gave him to their place, and a backpack full with half melted chocolate. As well as a hospital gift shop card, and you only brightened up more that Dustin completely forgot the cheap price sticker on it, but it was so endearing and gave you a good needed giggle, not that you let Dustin know what you were giggling about, and you were coddled over for grimacing in pain because it hurt your cracked rib.

Joyce and El visited, El having hand drawn a get well soon card and having picked out flowers and chocolates in the gift shop downstairs, because she’d never visited someone in a hospital before (for something not life threatening too) and she’d learnt it was something you were supposed to do. Joyce had been lovely, because she’d given you that mom hug, and you’d just held on and burst into tears at her warmth, and her scent, and her tenderness, and her hug. It was the first time you’d cried all day, you didn’t even know why you did. But you loved having Joyce there. Yes your partners brought you comfort, but Joyce had such a parental vibe, she really made you feel like everything was going to be okay, and you were looked after, and loved.

Even Hellfire club stopped by, with more sweets for you. Mike nearly getting hit in the head by Eddie and Steve and Nancy because one of the packs he handed you was already open and half eaten. He hadn’t even had those ones, it was Gareth. But with every friend visiting, and your partners, your family, always around, so encouraging, you felt so loved and taken care of.

And after a few days, with lots of final pestering questions to your doctors by your loves, you were released back home. Already having a schedule Nancy had two copies of in a folder of your medical information, of when you were to come in for physical therapy. Your injuries needed some extra work, especially your broken leg, but keeping up with your meds, having people help you with physical tasks around the house, looking after your wounds, and coming to physical therapy, you’d be back to normal in no time!

Your doctor affectionately nicknamed you ‘The Tank’ for having come out pretty okay from just a nasty accident. You were sure he’d used that name for plenty of patients, but it made you smile every time anyway. And with the reassurance from all your friends, your family, you felt strong too.

Well, strong and their princess. You could be both. They told you so!

Just because you were back from the hospital, didn’t mean you were any less delicate, and precious, and babied and worried over by them. In fact, you were sure someone would have a nervous breakdown as they transported you from the hospital, to Steve’s car, to your wheelchair to the sofa.

Steve was going to carry you to bed tonight, and then they’d all help getting you to the bathroom, to your wheelchair to go to the garden, and to be in the living room with them.

You wanted to feel like you were still part of the household team, and go to the dining room to eat, and watch tv with them at night on the sofa, and explore the garden for fresh air with them all.

And honestly, if you hadn’t phrased it like that initially, they might’ve fought harder to keep you only in your bedroom. But they couldn’t deny you after that... how could they! Of course they’d carry you everywhere around the house! They’d take you to watch the sunset glisten against Steve’s pool and sit by the flowers every single evening! Of course they’d do that, you could still interact like you were a normal part of the family, of course they’d do that for you! Anything you ask! They’d do that of course because they love you!!!

And that’s what they do. They try to keep you in bed a little in the mornings, so you’re comfortable. When everyone moved into Steve’s parents house when they weren’t really coming back to Hawkins, Steve tried to get the biggest beds for everyone’s rooms. Enough so five of you could fit, usually if you were all snuggled up to each other at night.

Everyone was pretty wary around your injuries, but having been unable to do so in the hospital, the first night home was spent with you comfortably in the middle of your own bed, and the others trying to give you space, but cuddled up as close as possible, all trying to at least have a hand on you. Sure Robin woke up with a fright because Eddie nearly kicked her off the bed, and when everyone was awake, Nancy was baking because Steve had been like a sauna all night apparently, when she was so squished to his bare back, clinging to his chest and trying to not lie on the edge. But they were happy because they got to be close with you, and you were very happy about the situation too!

Luckily by your window sill, there was a cushioned seating area, that could be used to sleep on if necessary, so that was used some nights as well. There being plenty of big comfy chairs, bean bags, and blow up mattresses around if absolutely necessary also.

You’re of course brought breakfast in bed. Steve wanted to give you healthier stuff to help you heal quicker, but he was also so upset about nearly, potentially losing you, and that you were hurt, he wanted to do everything to make you happy, anything, so he’d bring you the biggest and best breakfasts, on the mornings he went for them.

Steve and Eddie were usually the ones who lifted you, being the tallest and strongest, and no one wanting to risk dropping you when you were like this, although Robin sometimes helped them. They kept your wheelchair on whichever floor you were on, so in the mornings someone could wheel you to the bathroom. No one had wanted to leave that first morning, even when you told them you just needed to piss. Eddie and Robin stayed babbling to you on the bathroom sink, while Nancy and Steve ravaged through gift bags downstairs to find the new bubble bath you’d gotten. And then, admitting your ribs hurt, you eventually accepted Eddie and Robin’s help to haul your thighs back into your chair.

Bath time you were treated even more like a queen, constantly being asked if the temperature was okay, and have whoever was on duty asking if the bin bag tied around your leg, over your cast, was okay too, not wanting it to be too tight or hurting you. It was awkward and hurt a bit to get in the tub, they could all tell, and they hated watching you like this, but they’d stay. Of course they did. Usually multiple of them, just to chat with you, and fight over who got to wash you. Any room you were in, usually so were the other four, unless they were doing something.

They light scented candles, and someone will sing a tune, and they’ll make sure it’s all lovely. They looove just being able to help you relax, styling your hair, and taking the time to gently pick apart and brush any knots out of it. Usually someone got to work with your hair while another washed you. Technically you could probably do that part yourself, even though your arms and ribs were a bit injured, but it could hurt even a tiny bit, and they wanted to wash you, they wanted to treat you like a queen, they wanted to worship you, and they wanted to help you. So of course you wouldn’t complain. And they are sooo gentle around your injuries. Which unfortunately, there are quite a few of. One of the things they hate about bath time is seeing those bruises look worse and worse on your body. You’re still their beautiful girl, thats not changed at all, they just hate seeing you hurt.

They will insist on carrying you back to your room to get you changed, because surely it must be more comfortable to sit on your bed than the bath tub, and they chuckle each time you give a suggestive wink as you mention them carrying your naked and slippery body back to the bedroom. Oh what will they do to you now?

It makes them smile each time. Eddie and Steve will be shirtless carrying you too, at first just so their shirts didn’t get wet they’d say, but that very quickly in the next sentence devolved into a much more flirty sentiment. You loved at least being able to fawn over their bare chests, touching them, and sometimes teasing them too, even if you couldn’t do much with how fucked up you were right now.

They love dressing you up in their own clothes, and it’s not like you’re complaining, or you can easily change back. You love being able to smell them on you, and be comforted by their outfits. Sometimes they bicker over who gets to change you, only because they know they each want to put their own clothes on you. You sometimes get your own very comfy ones though, or your favourite shirts. That and the new clothes they’ve bought you, because your lovers are all compulsive shoppers when it comes to gifting you with things, you learnt way back when they first were trying to court you. It’s a good thing the shared household has a very good income, especially with what was left and still given by Steve’s parents.

They’ll carry you again down the stairs, but then you’re put in your wheelchair if not the sofa, and Robin and Nancy will argue it’s their turn to hold you (push you about) this time, although it ends up being largely shared.

“Maybe you should keep me away from stairs. You know, because of my track record of falling off them?”

Nancy gulps, freezes, but it’s not noticed by anyone, Robin and Eddie still walking besides you, transfixed on your crack of a smile, dealing with their own pounding hearts at the memory of you getting hurt, twice. But Steve smiles back in his joke with you, jostling you carefully up in his arms as he says “Yeah, that’s why I’m taking you downstairs.” The four of you chuckle, and Nancy quickly steps in place behind. It’s a good job they’re all obsessed with you.

If any of you thought at all on this, how you’d ‘fallen down stairs’ twice around her and been knocked out, the coincidence would point a glaringly obvious finger at Nancy. And she’s already got plans in place depending on who or how many of you figure that out first.

Once you’re down, and Robin’s getting chided by Nancy for doing wheelies with you in your chair, you get to decide what you all do. But they’ve all also come up with lots of fun activities themselves! So you’re not stuck bored or having to think too hard, you don’t need to strain yourself, there’s four of them here for you!

Steve and Robin nearly die when Eddie wheels you into their work one day early on. You’ve come to pick out about a weeks worth of films, and they couldn’t be happier having you visit! It makes their heart feel good, and painful things, seeing you out and about like usual, but just in a wheelchair.

They also get slightly scared not having you at home, even though you’re with them. But of course you’d ask Eddie if you two can go out and how could he refuse you! They all have a great time with you at Steve and Robin’s work, the three are just slightly more... protective. Like when people come in and start knocking over tapes because they’re clumsy, or don’t care, or a car outside is going way too fast, near the glass windows of the store. They spend some time just huddled around you in a circle, still laughing and joking around with you, and your lap stacked full of tapes.

Your great idea of a bbq was really nice, because not only did everyone have fun watching Steve in his ‘kiss the chef’ apron cooking (regularly put onto Eddie as well, which he wouldn’t complain about if he got attention, and, kisses) but you all got to spend a long afternoon outside together. It felt really good for you.

You could sit in the outside seating with everyone else, go around with Robin to smell the flowers, watch Eddie throw Nancy into the pool after she’d clearly teased him about something. And although Steve caught your pout, telling him that you wished you could go in the pool, you soon had a bucket of warm, chlorine, water, to paddle your foot not attached to a cast in, and had Eddie spraying you with a water gun he’d found to also help you ‘experience the pool’. He refused to tell Steve where he found them. Although within an hour he’d given you one as well ‘to hide’, so you could pull it out against the others at the funniest opportunity presented to you.

You’d all prepared some lovely cold food and treats in the kitchen together, before going out and eating some skilfully grilled things by your lovers, and kissing a lot of chefs, and Nancy even had her camera out to take lots of pictures together. It had been really lovely. It had felt refreshing. And it proved to you you could have fun, have normal good days, even being kinda injured right now. And your four lovers started to tear up with smiley faces, when you told them how good this day had been, as you kissed each of them with an “I love you so much.”

Anything and everything, all for you, from all of them.

Even when you can start to walk, they still like carrying you around. They encourage your attempts, and reward your efforts, even though, holy God, you feel like you’re constantly being rewarded at the moment. But they still get nervous. A toss up between wanting you to get better and improve, and being so scared you’re not ready and you’ll hurt yourself, and just wanting to do all the hard work for you.

You have to tell them having one person in front of you and one person behind you kind of impedes your ability to walk in any direction, but with people behind you and at your sides, sad they can’t hold your hands, you manage to soon be strong enough to use your crutches. Everyone’s happy your arms are feeling better, and strong too! Although they do keep the wheelchair around, just in case.

Eddie has a bet with you to keep you going strong, about when you’ll next be able to bench press him. At some point the terms of the bet switch to ‘when you’ll be able to throw Eddie against a wall’ and no one can quite trace when that happened. Robin makes a show of fawning over your ‘muscly’ biceps though, and disrespecting Steve’s ‘lack of them’.

Very soon you have the four of them individually (and together) drooling starry eyed over how they have such a strong girlfriend, who they’re so in awe of.

When you push Eddie’s face away as he kneels by the sofa arm after teasingly chattering on and on about his warrior princess girlfriend, and ‘biting into pure muscle’, he pretends to be so thrown back by your mighty hand. And then faints from how intimidated he is by your strength. And turned on. Which gets the remote thrown at his head by Robin. And Eddie fake faints again.

And then you tell Eddie he’s bullying you for faking being knocked out, when that’s basically a trauma for you! And then you get smothered in kissies by your boyfriend!

And eventually your also there girlfriend, who is trying to shove Eddie back after two full minutes of being left out, like Robin was as strong as Eddie pretended you had been.

They all have a little bet of the next time they’ll be able to sit in your lap again - with the caveat of ‘DON’T STRAIN YOURSELF TO DO SO EARLY THOUGH PLEASE MY LOVE’

They drive you to physical therapy, and you always get to go out somewhere as a treat afterwards. They all felt frozen on the spot, after your first session, where you used your crutch to go all the way to the front of the line by yourself, and began ordering your ice cream sundae, but they at least started to calm when they realised nothing bad had happened. And after some talks with each other, where they knew they would not let anything happen to you out there, when you were with all of them.

You hadn’t really noticed yet, but you kinda assumed you hadn’t been out anywhere on your own, because they were worried you wouldn’t be able to comfortably get yourself there and back home without their help. They do slightly wonder if they’ll feel any... less like this, once you’re fully healed up, and probably wanting to go out there on your own again.

...That’s a bridge they’ll cross when they come to it. For now, they loooove being able to spend all their time, taking care of their poor, sweet, lovely girlfriend.

Obviously Nancy is very smart, and I feel like as a yandere it only helps with her manipulation. So she probably wouldn’t tell the others what she did. No need for them to know right! You didn’t know, and neither did anyone else, so why would her other partners need to? There’s no proof, she made sure after the others got to you at the hospital that there hadn’t been any cameras around. So there was no evidence and she was singlehandedly protecting her family herself (by not letting her get arrested and the family being torn apart, as well as the others secrets potentially looked into more).

She knows they’d just be upset. Of course, there’s no reason for her to let that happen. They’d be angry with her, and they’d probably feel guilty and conflicted about letting you in. She doesn’t think Steve would, unless you’re begging him for a truth and Nancy hasn’t been sinking her claws (in a sweet way) into him recently. Robin would also probably be too anxious to tear the family apart, and to tell on Nancy. Nancy had had to tell Robin off, in only medium ways, once or twice, but Nancy also knew Robin was a good girl. But she was also your girl. It would be rocky.

Eddie... Nancy could still trust him, but she could see him being the most tricky out of the group. Tricky to control and predict as well.

She could see Eddie snatching you up and taking you away from her and the others, driving you away in that shitty van to lead a life with you elsewhere, just the two of you.

Eddie had grown used to being alone before they all came together, whereas Steve and Robin were terrified of it. If Eddie was scared for you, he’d steal you away in the night, and Nancy wouldn’t underestimate Eddie’s sneakiness when necessary, including taking you on your own willingness thanks to him, and she wouldn’t underestimate Eddie being content with you being his family, not having you in any harms way, being happy with you. And with only one family member to call and meet up with. Only one other person he cared about like that. Easier to cut ties with the town he wanted to leave before this relationship started.

It also meant Eddie only had his Uncle Wayne to look out for in the town he left. The only one to warn in case any of the others, his nephews ‘ex friends’, started acting weird. Only one person to set up precautions with, in case he was used to lure you and Eddie back.

It’s not like Nancy would ever hurt Mike, who was in Hellfire with Eddie. And she wouldn’t want to do anything to Dustin either, she also knew Steve would not allow that to happen, and Nancy would definitely lose Steve if she hurt Dustin. That would be the best way to get Steve to not only hate her, but fight back against Nancy. Lose Steve, and you, and probably have Eddie gain Steve... and then Robin would probably leave her and join... Not that Nancy was thinking about hurting Wayne. Or anyone, of course not. Eddie just had the most options, as well as a lot of other ticks in the category. ...Nancy just thought too much, was all.

It was just all around easier to not involve them. Besides, Nancy couldn’t deny that when attention wasn’t poured on you, she liked the extra forehead kisses and tight hugs from the others she’d gotten back when she first could have told the truth, the love for her having seen such a dreadful sight, watching you fall, being the one to call the ambulance so fretfully. Poor Nancy, she was so brave to them, so in need of some extra love. And she truly loved all of them, including you.

Nancy would do the right thing. And that was not letting her family be torn apart.

[kazumasougi]

yeah this is not getting done by the time i have to go back to college. but its so close ← Fool

[getosbf]

When someone starts reading your fic who CLEARLY isnt as hyperfixated on the ship as you and your mutuals are and they leave actual logical replies and point out plot holes instead of going as feral as you and your mutuals

[justarkive]

THE JEONS | smut drabble

Sensitive 🔞

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

contents: family!au, non.idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff, angst, sensitive topics sometimes, smut!

• chapter warnings: smut!! very explicit smut, unprotected sex, cuddle fucking, cnc undertones A BIT, jk licks his cum off ur tits, he cums on ur tits + inside, cock + nipple play/stimulation for basically the whole thing lol. multiple orgasms, reader cums from just that. breastfeeding kink (jk is obsessed). overstimulation, dirty talk!! a lot!!, light teasing + soft dom jk kinda, mentions of pregnancy, uhh pregnant!oc kink LMFAO. possessive jk. a lot of praise + some vry light degradation (but it’s hot). jk being so obsessed w ur tits it’s insane. experimentation bc he didn’t even know u could cum like that. he’s just in awe. lots of teasing but also lots of love!!!!! he basically praises u. oh and jk lowk has a breeding kink ngl, m!masturbation. idk kissing uhh thats it i think.

• a/n: rlly wanted this pairing to havw some hot but fluffy smut!! not much family fluff except for the first part ig but its super brief. its just like super smutty and fluffy!

• taglist: @jenniebyrubies @lovingkoalaface @iamstilljk @elinaki92 @rpwprpwprpwprw @mafersame @parkinglot-nights @reallygenerouskoala @mimi1097 @aznstoner @jungshaking @pinkpunkdynamite (cmnt to be added)

masterlist , series masterlist

It’s late when Jungkook finally slips into bed beside you, the soft creak of the mattress barely cutting through the quiet hum of the baby monitor.

Hana is fast asleep, and you know he just spent the last half hour making sure of it, murmuring to her softly until her tiny fingers went slack around his.

But now, he’s here, warm and solid in front of you, pressing a lazy kiss to the nape of your neck before his hands wander lower, over the soft curve of your stomach, the stretch marks from the life you carried he always traces like scripture.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, voice deep, reverent, as his fingers find your breast and flick lazily at your nipple.

You twitch at the stimulation, a small gasp escaping before you can stop it. They’re still sensitive, more so after nursing, and Jungkook knows it—knows and loves it. His breath fans against your ear, lips curving as he teases, “Missed these. Missed tasting you.”

Your face heats instantly. “Jungkook—”

“What?” He laughs, dipping lower to mouth at your neck, his fingers still toying with you. “Just saying. You gonna stop me, baby?”

You don’t, and he knows you won’t. Because despite the embarrassment, despite the way his filthy words always make your face burn, you trust him. Completely.

Jungkook takes his time. Pulling over your nightie and murmuring assurances against every bit of skin exposed.

His mouth is warm, wet, and torturously slow, dragging over the stiff peak of your nipple as his fingers work the other one, rolling and pinching just enough to make your toes curl. The combination is dizzying—so much stimulation, so much attention, and it’s doing something to you.

You don’t even realize you’re moving at first.

But suddenly, you are.

Hips shifting, chest pushing forward, chasing his tongue every time he pulls back, your hands buried in his hair, keeping him close because you don’t want him to stop.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, breath hitching as he sucks harder, the pressure of his lips sending sparks straight between your legs. You can’t help it—you roll your chest again, desperate for friction, pressing your nipple firmly against his lips as you gasp.

And then—he stops.

Pulls away just slightly, just enough for his breath to ghost over your damp skin, for his lips to hover but not touch, for his hands to rest still against your ribs instead of moving.

You make a noise of protest, but he only grins.

“Use me, baby,” he murmurs, voice low, coaxing.

You freeze, body going tight beneath him, face burning.

“W-What?”

Jungkook tilts his head, one brow raising, his gaze molten as he watches you. “You wanna grind on my mouth, don’t you?” he says, teasing, licking his lips. “So do it.”

Your stomach clenches, something white-hot pooling deep inside you at the way he’s looking at you—so openly eager, so completely wrecked already.

Hesitantly, you move.

Rocking forward again, feeling the heat of his mouth just barely brushing against your nipple. His lips part slightly, his tongue peeking out, and—

“Oh, fuck.”

A shaky moan spills from your lips as you press against him, the sensation sending a new, dangerous type of pleasure straight to your core. Jungkook groans, like he can feel it too, his hands gripping your hips but not guiding you—just holding, just letting you take what you need.

“That’s it,” he whispers, voice strained. “Fuck, that’s it, baby.”

And then—you feel it.

The unmistakable rhythm of his hand, the slick, wet sounds between his own legs, the way his breath stutters as he strokes himself while you move.

Your eyes flutter open, dazed, and Jungkook is watching you—watching you with a hunger that makes you tremble, his other hand gripping your waist, like he’s trying not to lose it completely.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, heat flooding your body, every nerve alight at the realization.

His jaw clenches.

“You feel so good,” he groans, hips bucking slightly into his own hand. His tongue flicks over your nipple again, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re making me so fucking hard.”

Your thighs tighten, body shivering.

This is new. This is different.

It’s desperate.

It’s you learning him, him learning you—how far you can go, how much you can take, how much he can give.

And the way he’s watching you, the way he’s losing himself just from you grinding against his mouth—

It makes you want to give him everything.

Jungkook is panting.

His lips are slick, swollen from where he’s been sucking at your skin, his pupils blown wide as he watches the way your chest rises and falls—your nipples still glistening, still stiff, still aching for more.

And then, suddenly—

He moves.

Pushes himself up, his hands gripping your waist as he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, pressing you into the sheets before you can even catch your breath. “Jungkook—”

He doesn’t answer.

Just kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and leaking, his chest heaving, and you swear you’ve never seen him this wrecked before.

“I need to—” His voice breaks off, rough and unsteady, his hands sliding up your torso, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples again—watching, studying, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Fuck, I need—.”

Your stomach tightens.

The realization makes your breath hitch, heat pooling low in your belly, and you barely have time to react before he grips himself—his cock heavy in his hand, the tip swollen and glistening, and then—

“Oh!”

He presses it against your nipple.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your back arching off the bed as the slick warmth of his tip drags over the sensitive bud, rubbing, circling, teasing.

“Fuuck—”

“You’re so fucking sensitive,” he groans, watching your reaction, his other hand palming at your breast, tweaking your other nipple in time with the slow, deliberate glide of his cock. “Shit, you like this?”

You whimper.

Because, yes.

Yes, you do.

It’s messy, new and filthy and you should be embarrassed, but all you can feel is the sharp, electric pleasure zipping down your spine—the way your thighs clench, the way your stomach tightens, the way your body throbs with every slow pass of his cock over your aching nipple.

Jungkook groans again, deeper this time, his fingers twitching against your skin, his hips pressing forward as he starts moving faster, more desperate.

“Fucking hell,” he chokes out, his breath ragged, his gaze locked onto you. “You’re—shit, you’re so pretty like this, baby. You gonna come for me?”

You don’t know how to answer.

Because you don’t know how you’re this close already.

But the stimulation is too much, the friction too perfect, your body too wound up from everything before, and when he grips your breast tighter, when his cock drags over your nipple just right—

Your world tilts.

You cry out, pleasure slamming into you, white-hot and all-consuming, your entire body trembling beneath him. Your walls flutter, your stomach tensing, your nipples aching as you come undone from nothing but his touch, his mouth, his cock against your chest.

And that—

That is what undoes him.

Jungkook curses, head tilting back, his body shuddering as his hips jerk forward—his cock pulsing, spilling over your nipples as he moans, as he watches you, as he loses himself completely in the sight of you coming just from this.

Silence follows.

Just the sound of your heavy breathing, the faint tremor in your limbs, the lingering heat between you both.

Then—

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook exhales, staring down at you, his chest rising and falling, his fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Baby—”

You’re barely able to focus, your mind still hazy, your skin still tingling—but when you meet his gaze, you see it.

Shock.

Awe.

Desperation.

Something in his throat bobs, his voice coming out rough, wrecked.

“Did you—” He swallows, his hand sliding over your stomach, your ribs, like he needs to feel you to believe it. “You came from that?”

Your face burns.

But you nod.

And Jungkook groans, gripping your hips, leaning down to kiss you like he’s starving, like he can’t fucking believe what just happened.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath.

Everything feels too warm, your skin still tingling, the ghost of your orgasm still pulsing through your limbs. But Jungkook— Jungkook is staring.

You can feel it, the weight of his gaze, even as you try to focus on the rise and fall of your chest. And when you finally manage to meet his eyes, he’s already smirking.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, his fingers ghosting over your ribs. “From just this.”

You swallow.

Heat rushes up your spine, embarrassment bubbling in your chest, but Jungkook only grins, tilting his head as his palm slides higher—his thumb swiping lazily over your oversensitive nipple, making you twitch.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

But he just laughs.

“I mean, baby,” he hums, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast, his expression downright sinful, “I knew you were sensitive, but this—”

His other hand moves—his cock, still soft, still resting against your thigh, shifting slightly at the movement.

“—this is fuckin’ insane.”

You groan, reaching up to shove at his shoulder, but Jungkook only chuckles again, catching your wrist and kissing your palm, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

And then—

Something changes.

His eyes darken.

His fingers twitch.

And before you can process it, before you can ask—

His head dips.

Your breath stutters.

Because Jungkook—

Jungkook licks. Soft. Deliberate.

His tongue drags over your nipple, slow and purposeful, collecting the remnants of his own release—and your entire body locks up.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your throat suddenly dry, your stomach tightening, your skin burning as you watch him, as you feel him—

But he only hums.

Does it again.

And when he finally pulls back, when he tilts his head up to meet your wide eyes, there’s something unreadable in his expression—something dark, something knowing.

“Trust me,” he murmurs.

And then— He leans in.

Feeds it to you.

You don’t even hesitate.

Your lips part instinctively, your breath hitching as his thumb coaxes your chin up, as he presses his mouth to yours, as you taste him—warm, salty.

Your stomach flips. Because it’s not just filthy. It’s Jungkook. And when he finally pulls back, when he licks into your mouth one last time, when he watches you with those dark, desperate eyes—

You realize something. You’re turned on again.

Jungkook watches you. Eyes flickering over your face, your parted lips, your dazed expression. He can see it, the need building in your chest, the way you’re still trying to catch your breath but already wanting more.

And then— You whine. A soft, needy little sound, high in your throat, breath hitching as you shift, pressing closer.

Jungkook’s brows twitch, his fingers flexing against your ribs.

“What, baby?” he murmurs, voice low, coaxing, stroking gentle circles against your skin. “Tell me.”

You blink up at him, swallowing hard, “Want more.”

His expression darkens. “Yeah?”

Your stomach flips. Because he’s already moving.

Hand sliding down, fingers wrapping loosely around his soft cock, stroking himself to hardness again—his eyes never leaving yours, his touch slow, teasing.

“You want more,” he repeats, rasping, amused, his lips brushing against your temple, your cheek, as he shifts, pulling your leg over his waist. “Like this, baby?”

He slides in. It’s slow, lazy, his cock still thick and warm and just barely hard enough, but your body welcomes him immediately—soft, wet, aching, molding to him like you were made for it.

And Jungkook—

Jungkook moans.

His hands clutch at you, arms locking around your waist, pulling you into him completely—his chest flush against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

Cuddle-fucking.

It’s the only way to describe it.

Your leg thrown over his hip, bodies tangled, faces pressed so close together that you can feel every sound he makes. His hands wander, palms smoothing over your back, your sides—

And then—

Your nipples.

Because now that he’s found this out, now that he knows— He can’t not touch you there.

He rolls one between his fingers, his other hand curling against your breast, and you gasp—

And Jungkook groans.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so sensitive,” he pants, rutting into you, his voice wrecked, strained, breath shaky as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “Can’t stop touching you—need to touch you.”

And you let him. Because you trust him.

Because it’s him.

Because as overwhelming as it is—his touch, his voice, his desperate, slow thrusts—you want it. You need it.

And when his lips find yours, when his tongue slides into your mouth, when his hips stutter and he whispers, “Let me take care of you, baby,”

You don’t hesitate. You let him lead. Because you know he will.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. His cock is still slick from his precum, hardening more as he slides deeper, pressing close. His lips are at your ear, murmuring filth, each word sending a new wave of heat down your spine.

“Still so fucking tight,” he groans as he pushes in, stretching you slow. “Shit—you’re made for me, baby.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders as he starts to move, the slow rock of his hips melting you into the mattress. His hands never stray far from your chest, thumbs still circling your sensitive peaks, still teasing as if he knows you can’t handle much more.

But you let him lead. You always do.

“Taking me so well,” he praises, kissing your jaw, your throat, the space between your breasts where his cum had been just moments ago. “Know you can give me another one. Know I just have to get you open for me.”

Your breath stutters as he angles deeper, his cock pressing right where you need him most. He’s relentless, thrusting in deep, grinding his hips into yours as if he can’t get close enough. The pleasure builds fast, hot, overwhelming, and when his fingers find your nipple again, rubbing, tweaking, pinching—

“Jungkook,” you gasp, back arching, hands scrambling at his shoulders. “I—”

“I know, baby,” he groans, voice tight, desperate. “Come with me, yeah? Give me one more.”

You do. You can’t hold back, not when he’s coaxing you through it, his words nothing but praise as your body clenches around him, as your release crashes into you so hard your vision whites out. Jungkook follows right after, hips snapping deep as he spills inside you with a wrecked moan, burying his face in your neck as he grinds through it.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but heavy breathing, your bodies still locked together, sweat-damp and trembling. He’s still inside you, still pulsing, his hands lazily kneading at your waist as he comes down.

Then—

“Shit, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Just—one more.”

Your breath catches. “…What?”

“Wanna come inside again.” He grins against your skin, hands splaying over your stomach, thumbs stroking the soft skin there. “Think you’d look so pretty carrying my baby again.”

Your heart stutters. Your body is still trembling from your orgasm, mind barely catching up, but the way he says it—like it’s a fact, like it’s inevitable—has you gaping at him.

“Jungkook—”

He just smirks, kissing your cheek before rolling his hips again, still half-hard inside you.

“Think we should start trying soon, don’t you?”

Jungkook groans as he shifts, sitting up and grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up—higher, deeper—until you’re spread open beneath him, helpless to the way he presses into you. His cock slides deeper, the new angle making you cry out, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked, hips snapping forward in hard, relentless thrusts. “Missed—missed fucking you while you had Hana inside you.”

You whimper, overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you, like he can see it—like he’s imagining it all over again. His eyes are dark, focused entirely on the way your body takes him, the way your tits bounce with every snap of his hips.

“You looked so pretty carrying my baby,” he murmurs, leaning down, pressing his forehead to yours as he grinds deep. “So full—so fucking beautiful.”

Your face burns, body trembling beneath him, and yet the way he’s talking—the pure adoration in his voice—has heat pooling low in your belly, has you clenching around him so tight he groans.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, nails dragging down his back.

He moans at that, dropping to his elbows, pressing you further into the bed as he pounds into you. “Wanna make you all big again, baby,” he breathes, licking into your mouth, swallowing your soft, broken cries. “Wanna fill you up—fuck, wanna see you carrying again, see your pretty tits get all full for me.”

Your breath stutters, hands clutching at his shoulders, overwhelmed by his desperation, by the raw, aching need laced in every word.

“These tits, baby—” He groans, dipping his head to latch onto one, sucking, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nipple. “So fucking perfect when you’re pregnant—” He moans as you tighten around him, sucking harder, like he’s already imagining it. “Wanna see them leak again—wanna drink from you, baby—”

You whimper, body arching, everything too much, too hot, too overwhelming. And then he presses in deep, hips stuttering, and you feel it—the way he spills inside you, his cock twitching, voice breaking on a desperate moan of your name.

For a long moment, he just breathes against your skin, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, his body still trembling against yours. Then he leans up, eyes soft, cheeks flushed, voice a little shy despite everything.

“Think we should try again, baby,” he murmurs, hands still tracing over your stomach. “Wanna see you like that again.”

And the worst part?

You’re actually considering it.

[sunrizef1]

Hits Different

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol

Authors note: tired

——

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

liked by alexandrasaintmleux rebeccadonaldson and 1,232,144 others

ynln only thing I washed away was my dignity xoxo

load comments…

lando damn girl wtf happened at Carbone

user1 girl you good?

alexandrasaintmleux you cried in the uber and then tipped him £50…. Lets be serious

user2 this is…

pierregasly u need god and a nap

danielricciardo new matching tattoo is sick tho

rebeccadonaldson ur never on club-watch again

danielricciardo it’s a very cool tattoo…

user3 I fear that publicly posting pictures of yourself crying is a new low

user4 delete this for the sake of your ego

carmenmundt call me?

georgerussell answer carm pls she won’t stop pacing

charles_leclerc this seems fine

user5 right right right

user6 missing Lewis

this comment was deleted

redbull should we make max log in and delete this for you…

oscarpiastri i feel unsafe

——

alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

charles_leclerc replied to your story!

charles_leclerc

and why are you on the concrete next to her?

alexandrasaintmleux

girl, do NOT worry about it

charles_leclerc

Okay I won’t, god damn

——

ynln added to their story

carmenmundt replied to your story!

carmenmundt

Get out of the driveway

Dinners ready

George set the table

ynln

Alright mom damn

carmenmundt liked your message

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TWITTER

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ynln

liked by charles_leclerc georgerussell and 2,111,071 others

ynln the sand is full of lies

load comments…

charles_leclerc are you clinically insane?

alexandrasaintmleux we take you on a new vacation and you post badly cropped pictures of an old one… what is ur deal lady

lando u used to ask me to photoshop him out but now you fully embrace just bad cropping

user7 his face is just like… fully in the last one… what are we doing here

danielricciardo i think the price of real therapy would be worth it when you compare the skill level of people with degrees to whatever the grid is doing

mercedesamg this is a red flag (and we know a lot about those)

user8 yn ln is so aesthetic until she opens her mouth

liked by author

oscarpiastri just say you miss him good god

user9 the grid is so tired

user10 me and all my gang all hear voices that aren’t there

——

ynln added to their story

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story!

alexandrasaintmleux

face cropped out cuz u were crying

I know what you are

——

ynln

liked by charles_leclerc lando and 3,887,111 others

ynln oh, my! love is a lie!

load comments…

lando alright Shakespeare

oscarpiastri that’s a big name for Elmo

charles_leclerc I was not invited. Feeling: neglected

alexandrasaintmleux I’m the one who told you that btw

charles_leclerc ???

pierregasly he will pay

estebanocon and what r u going to do

user11 I can smell this post and I don’t like it

user12 it is very pretty tho

sebastianvettel love is not a lie. You just chose poorly.

user13 shit my friends say to get me by

francocolapinto big fan of this

carlossainz no.

user14 gettin swerved by a short man who drives in circles… I’d lose my mind too

——

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ynln added to their story

lando replied to your story!

lando

Get it together

ynln

Boo

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ynln

📍somewhere you said we’d go together

liked by lando lewishamilton and 8,124,671 others

ynln bet I could still melt your world

load comments…

charles_leclerc ur actually unwell and it’s inspiring

alexandrasaintmleux you’re melting my world that’s for sure

lando idek what he did but he needs to keep doing it if it make you post like this

oscarpiastri serve (I think?)

user15 the sand hurts MY feelings

user16 the location lmfao I can’t do this

user17 Lewis in the likes???? Free me!!!

maxfewtrell I love your blue dress

carlossainz be decent.

rebeccadonaldson pretty girl 😍😍😍

pierre_gasly kika is drooling

franciscagomes how did heartbreak make you hotter? Unfair.

user18 this serve

carmenmundt the way this is all you packed 😍

user19 her comment section is a constant merry-go-round of f1 and the f1-adjacent who need compensation for what they’ve done

lewishamilton my argumentative antithetical dream girl

carmenmundt ?

alexandrasaintmleux hello?

charles_leclerc @/ynln

lando wtf

rebeccadonaldson ???

carlossainz where did you come from

oscarpiastri where is yn

georgerussell what does this mean

pierregasly the fuck?

lilymhe huh?

——

TWITTER

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ynln

liked by lewishamilton lando and 12,811,121 others

ynln it hits different cuz it’s you

load comments…

lando soft-launch or hostage situation

charles_leclerc girl yk we can see him too, right?

user20 wait are these pictures new or not?

alexandrasaintmleux text me back or publicly tell the internet whether or not these pictures are recent

user21 are we being gaslit?

pierregasly zoomed in so hard I saw the future

pierregasly or the past…?

oscarpiastri I’m comparing these photos to ur old posts… I need a week-day job

user22 at least the drivers are going through the same delusions as me

user23 what does this mean?

carmenmundt the group chat is begging for you to respond

georgerussell irresponsible internet use

user24 free will is a curse

user25 babe said “guess who?” And then sprinted away

user26 baby girl I can see his face

carlossainz WHORES!

rebeccadonaldson happy for you! (?)

——

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[paxaz535]

DOUBLE ( DATE ) TROUBLE [sequal]

at this point it’s you with the three of them lmfao

the foursome that you all requested! i hope i did good lolls

★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪

“So…”

You were sitting cross-legged on Jana’s bed, the scent of nail polish hanging in the air as she carefully painted your nails. You looked up at the voice from the doorway—and there she was.

Nika. Beautiful, cocky, completely effortless. Even after three years together, she still made your heart race.

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, trying not to smile too hard. Nika smirked, her eyes dragging over your nails before flicking to your face. She leaned against the doorframe like she owned the place.

Jana didn’t look up as she spoke. “I’m gonna say this now—please keep your horniness out of this room.”

You snorted, already bracing for whatever slick comment Nika had loaded up. Nika raised her hands innocently. “Yes, ma’am.”

But then she slid over to sit beside you, close enough that you felt the warmth of her body. She leaned in, her lips just barely brushing your ear.

“We’re going to another cabin this weekend,” she murmured. “You already know what to do.”

Your heart dropped—in the best way possible. You bit your lip.

She pulled back, the ghost of a smirk on her lips, and stood up with a wink. “Nice nails, by the way,” she added casually before slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Jana glanced at your dazed expression and snorted. “Girl, you are so gone,” she laughed, slipping your hand under the little purple light. “Get it together before I start charging you for emotional labor.”

You let out a shaky breath, already picturing the things you’re gonna do when you arrive.

-

azzi:

dude

they’re at it again

you:

no seriously

nika came in while jana was doing my nails and whispered it to me

like it was a secret mission or something

azzi:

i was doing my hair

i think i messed up a part

because i flinched when paige said “round three” like it was normal

you laughed at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard as your heart thudded once just a little harder.

you:

are you ready?

azzi:

fuck yeah.

-

Azzi was in the middle of packing—again—folding a hoodie when two hands suddenly covered her eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Steph Curry?”

Paige scoffed from behind her and gave Azzi’s head a soft muffing, her palm rubbing through the curls just enough to be annoying. Azzi laughed, already grinning as she turned around and pulled Paige in for a kiss.

Paige melted into it, her hand immediately finding its home at the side of Azzi’s neck, fingers curling just enough to make Azzi sigh. That touch—firm, possessive, gentle in its own way—always got her.

Azzi started to lean into her, one knee rising as if to climb onto Paige’s lap, but she caught herself.

“Mmh—no,” she murmured, pulling back and giving Paige a push to the chest. “We need to stop.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because we haven’t even made it to the cabin yet,” Azzi said, half-laughing, half-scolding. “Calm down, hornball.”

Paige groaned dramatically and flopped onto the bed, arms spread like she was suffering. “You’re impossible.”

Azzi just shook her head and turned back to her suitcase, folding her jeans with a little too much precision.

From the bed, Paige watched her, chin propped on her hand.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.”

Azzi paused, her fingers slowing on the zipper. A blush bloomed across her cheeks as she turned her head to glance back.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smile curling at the edges. “You too, pretty girl.”

-

you:

so who’s bringing the weed

paige:

you bring it

azzi:

yeah ngl

you’re our best bet

nika:

fuck you? i have a good weed man

you:

baby your weed man can’t stay outta jail to save his life

he probably locked up right now

nika:

…

so?

doesn’t change the fact his shit hits

azzi:

nika

just let her bring it

nika disliked this message

azzi:

can me and [ ] be front seat? i wanna drive

you:

yeah i need that aux cord

paige:

hell no

you:

bet you we’re still gonna be in the front tho

azzi:

fr

we just won’t go if we can’t

nika:

bruh

paige:

alright damn 😒

-

The trunk was packed, the cabin location was set, and somehow—somehow—you and Azzi ended up exactly where you said you would be: front seat. Azzi was behind the wheel, one hand casually resting on the top of the wheel, the other tapping her thigh to the beat of the music you were DJing.

Nika and Paige were in the back, visibly annoyed but saying nothing… yet.

“Next time,” Paige muttered, “I’m hiding the damn keys.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Azzi said sweetly, eyes on the road, smirking.

“Besides,” you added, glancing at her, “if you wanted the aux cord that bad, you should’ve claimed it before we even left the dorm.”

Nika scoffed. “You act like your playlists are untouchable.”

“Name one time I played trash.”

“That one random night you put on The Weeknd’s Dawn FM in full. No skips. No warning. It felt like I was in a haunted disco.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Azzi said, laughing. “You did scare me a little with that transition into Gasoline.”

“You’re supposed to appreciate the art,” you defended.

“Mmhm,” Paige said. “Play something we actually like, DJ Trauma Bond.”

You grinned and scrolled through your phone until you found what you were really waiting for. The opening notes of On My Mama by Victoria Monét hit the speakers, and Azzi let out a little “Ooooh yes” under her breath.

Nika, despite herself, nodded along from the back.

“I do look good,” Azzi said, checking herself out in the rearview.

“You do, baby,” Paige muttered, trying to sound unimpressed. “Still mad at you though.”

Azzi blew her a kiss.

“Alright, now I’m mad at all of you,” Nika said. “I’m trapped in the back with no aux, no front seat, and y��all flirting in stereo.”

You turned in your seat with a smug smile. “You’re still high from yesterday’s pre-pack blunt. Relax.”

“She’s mad ‘cause she wasn’t in charge this time,” Paige muttered.

“I am in charge,” Nika shot back.

“You’re in the backseat,” you and Azzi said in perfect unison.

A beat passed. Then laughter filled the car.

It felt good—stupid and warm and full of that dangerous pre-weekend energy, like you were all revving up for something you couldn’t name but definitely wanted.

The car rolled into the gas station lot, bass still bumping as Azzi pulled into a spot way too confidently for someone driving a borrowed SUV.

“Alright,” she said, throwing it in park. “Everyone behave. And by everyone, I mean Nika.”

Nika was already unbuckling. “You act like I can’t be chill in public.”

“You were banned from a gas station for yelling at the beef jerky,” Paige said, deadpan.

“That was once, and they were charging fourteen dollars for a Slim Jim. I was the voice of the people.”

You snorted, pushing open your door. “You’re banned from my aux if you go in there yelling again.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

The four of you filed into the store, sunglasses on, walking like you owned the place. You and Azzi immediately headed for the snacks aisle—eyes on the essentials. Azzi grabbed a family-sized bag of Hot Cheetos and a giant blue Gatorade. You picked up peach rings, Sour Patch Watermelon, and a suspicious-looking breakfast sandwich just because it felt right.

Meanwhile, Nika was eyeing the freezer section like it had done something to her personally.

“Why is every ice cream sandwich here freezer-burned?” she muttered.

“Because it’s a gas station in the middle of nowhere,” Paige answered, already at the counter with a pack of gum, a mini lighter, and a bottle of Smartwater like she was doing light damage only.

Back at the car, the vibe immediately shifted. You and Azzi had the trunk open, sitting on the edge while Azzi unpacked the actual essentials.

“Pre-rolls or blunt wrap?” she asked, holding both up.

“Blunt,” you said immediately. “It’s tradition.”

Paige leaned against the passenger door, squinting at her. “Y’all really about to do this in broad daylight?”

Azzi shrugged. “We’re parked. Who’s gonna stop us? The beef jerky cops?”

Nika took the blunt wrap from you and started rolling, resting it on her knee with practiced ease. “Besides, we’re not lighting it here,” she said. “This is a preparation stop. A strategic pause.”

You popped a peach ring in your mouth, leaning back on your hands. “Also known as stoner foreplay.”

Paige snorted, but she was smiling.

Azzi nudged you. “Front seat still ours, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Then this is a win all around,” she said, already stuffing the snacks back into the bag with one hand while holding the half-rolled blunt with the other.

Nika finished the roll, sealed it with a flick of her tongue, and held it up like a trophy. “We’re gonna smoke so dumb at that cabin.”

“You’re gonna be dumb at that cabin,” Paige said, sliding into the car.

“Can’t wait,” Nika grinned.

-

The SUV creaked as it turned up the gravel path, tires crunching through pine needles and dust. The cabin came into view through the trees—tucked into the woods, two stories, the wraparound porch catching golden slants of evening light.

Azzi whistled low under her breath. “Okay, damn. This looks even better than the pics.”

“Yeah,” you said, leaning forward in your seat, eyes scanning the porch, the open windows. “This is about to be a weekend.”

From the back seat, Nika grinned. “Call me when y’all stop fake acting like this ain’t about to be filthy within 24 hours.”

“Who said anything about 24?” Paige muttered, already stretching her arms above her head as the car rolled to a stop.

Bags thudded onto the wooden porch one by one. You and Azzi claimed the first bedroom on the main floor without discussion. Paige and Nika took the loft upstairs. It didn’t take long to settle in—hoodies flung over chairs, Bluetooth speaker connected, snacks unpacked into mismatched bowls in the kitchen.

Azzi was the one who lit it first. She stepped out onto the porch with the rolled blunt from earlier and a quiet kind of excitement in her eyes. You followed without needing to be asked. Paige and Nika joined with a lazy, practiced ease, like this had been part of the plan from the start.

The blunt made its way around the circle, fingers brushing, lips touching where others had just been. The weed hit slow and warm, melting tension from your limbs and coating everything in a golden haze.

Azzi leaned her head back against the cabin wall, exhaling slow. “God, this is so much better than smoking outside your dorm window like a criminal.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nika muttered, sinking lower into the Adirondack chair. “I am a criminal.”

“That’s not hot,” Paige said, stealing the blunt from her. “But keep trying.”

The group fell into a comfortable lull, the silence filled with the occasional cough, the click of a lighter, the low bass of the speaker vibrating through the wooden deck. Sunlight was bleeding out across the trees now, gold turning to amber.

You glanced at Nika and found her already watching you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something new. Her tongue dragged slow over her bottom lip like she was tasting the moment. You didn’t look away.

Azzi caught the look and let out a low, knowing hum. “Here we go.”

“What?” Paige asked, already smiling like she knew.

“Y’all feel it too, right?” Azzi said, eyes flicking between you, Nika, and Paige. “The shift?”

You let out a little laugh, half breath, half disbelief. “What shift?”

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dropping just enough to make your skin tighten. “The kind where everyone’s high and warm and looking too good to keep it casual.”

The air thickened.

Paige took one more pull and passed it, eyes dragging over Azzi slowly, almost reverent. “You’re the one talking like that, and I’m supposed to behave?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Who asked you to?”

Nika didn’t say anything. She just looked at you again—this time slower. Hungrier.

You shifted in your seat, heartbeat steady but rising. The blunt was in your hand now, fingers warm from where it had passed through everyone else’s. You took one last hit and handed it off, the taste lingering on your tongue like smoke and heat and someone else’s mouth.

And then Nika stood, stretching like a cat.

“I’m going inside,” she said casually. “Anyone who wants to follow… should.”

That pause.

That look at you.

Your stomach flipped, and Azzi let out a laugh like she knew exactly where this night was headed.

Inside the cabin, the air felt warmer. Still quiet, but heavier now. The kind of quiet that vibrated.

You followed Nika into the living room where the golden light was slipping through the big windows, catching the edges of her jaw, her chain, the curve of her smirk. She flopped down on the couch like she owned it—legs spread, arm draped over the back, eyes never leaving you.

“You coming here to sit,” she said, “or to make me lose my mind?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but footsteps on the porch made you pause.

Azzi and Paige walked in still laughing about something—Azzi holding the Gatorade from earlier, Paige tossing the lighter onto the counter like they’d just finished some kind of shared ritual.

Azzi looked at you first. Then Nika. Then Paige.

There was a beat. A pause. No one said it, but it hung in the air like smoke.

They felt it too.

Nika, of course, was the first to lean in. “So… are we gonna keep acting like y’all haven’t been staring at each other all day?”

Paige raised a brow. “You mean like how you’ve been watching her every time she licked her lips?”

Azzi just grinned and leaned against the back of the couch behind you, voice smooth. “We’ve been watching all of you. Don’t worry.”

Your pulse skipped. You turned, eyes meeting Azzi’s just as she reached out to gently tuck a curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth.

Something electric sparked between you—and Nika noticed. She leaned forward slowly, possessive smirk stretching across her face.

“Y’all think you’re slick.”

Azzi didn’t even look away from you. “No,” she said, brushing your shoulder with her knuckles. “We just think you’ll share.”

There was no laugh this time. Just heat. Stillness. An unspoken agreement passing through the room like current.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes catching Paige now—who looked like she was trying very hard not to smirk. She tilted her head, her voice lower now, controlled.

“Only if y’all can handle it.”

Nika stood. Slow. Deliberate. She walked up behind you and rested her hands on your waist, her breath brushing your ear. “You know we can.”

You leaned into her instinctively—familiar and dizzying—but still looked over at Azzi and Paige.

Azzi stepped forward.

Paige followed.

No rush. No scrambling. Just a quiet kind of hunger filling the space.

Four people.

One weekend.

Everything unspoken, finally ready to break.

Azzi was the first to close the space completely.

She stepped around the couch, walking toward you like she already knew what you tasted like. Her eyes dropped to your lips again, and this time, she didn’t just look.

She leaned in.

Her mouth brushed yours—barely. A question.

You parted your lips in answer.

It was soft at first. Curious. Just a slow pull of her bottom lip, the edge of her teeth catching. But when her hand slid to your waist, fingers splayed warm over your hoodie, she pulled you in with something deeper. Hungrier.

Behind you, Nika went still. You could feel her watching. Feel the tension rolling off her in waves. But she didn’t stop you.

She didn’t pull you back.

She stepped to your side and let her hand trail up your spine, grounding you, her presence thick at your back. And then—because of course she would—she leaned in and whispered, “Yeah… just like that.”

When you pulled back slightly from Azzi, her lips were still parted, eyes heavy.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” she murmured, voice still warm from the blunt, “for longer than I should admit.”

You felt Nika’s hand tighten briefly at your hip. Possessive, yes—but not stopping you. Just claiming her place in all of this.

Across the room, Paige had her arms crossed loosely, watching like she was calculating every moment, waiting for the right time to pounce. But when Azzi turned toward her—slow, teasing, licking your taste off her lips—Paige moved.

She stepped close.

Grabbed Azzi’s jaw gently.

And kissed her like it was a promise. Slow at first… then deeper. Paige’s hand moved to the back of Azzi’s neck, pulling her in harder, mouth open, demanding. Azzi whimpered—just once—and it made something tug in your stomach.

You didn’t realize you were staring until Nika turned your chin toward her.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” she said, quiet. Not cruel. Just steady.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away. You just nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I haven’t.”

“Good,” she said—and kissed you like she was making sure of it. It was rougher than Azzi’s, needier. Her hands gripped your jaw, tilted your head just how she liked it. When she pulled back, you felt dazed.

Behind you, Azzi laughed softly. “Damn.”

“She likes to show off,” Paige muttered, dragging her thumb along Azzi’s lower lip. “Let her.”

Nika turned and looked at Paige fully now. The two of them locked eyes—sizing each other up, but not with jealousy. No, this was something else. Competitive. Curious. Some twisted mutual respect.

Then Paige looked at you. Slowly. Like she wanted to see what your mouth tasted like too.

And Nika didn’t stop her.

Didn’t say a word.

She just looked at you, and said, low and dangerous:

“Go ahead, baby. Let her try.”

Paige’s eyes dragged over you like she was already undressing you in her head.

You didn’t move—not because you didn’t want to, but because you wanted to see if she would.

And she did.

She stepped in close, slow and steady, stopping just shy of your space. Her hand lifted to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. You inhaled softly—barely—and that was all she needed.

She leaned in.

Her kiss wasn’t like Azzi’s or Nika’s. It was precise. Like she was mapping your mouth, learning it. Her hand moved to your throat—not gripping, just there, a slow, grounding weight.

When she pulled back, her lips were still parted, eyes dark. “You kiss like trouble,” she murmured.

From behind, Nika scoffed. “She is trouble. I trained her well.”

You could feel the tension between them spike again—something cocky and unspoken, a silent battle playing out behind your shoulder.

And then, without warning, Azzi turned toward Nika.

They hadn’t kissed yet. Hadn’t even touched.

But the way Azzi looked at her now—challenging, curious—it was clear she was wondering how far this would go.

“You gonna be good?” she asked Nika, tilting her head slightly.

Nika raised an eyebrow, stepping close. “Only if you make me.”

Azzi smirked. “Didn’t think you’d let someone else take the lead.”

“I don’t,” Nika said smoothly, crowding into her space. “Unless they can handle it.”

Azzi didn’t back up. Instead, she reached up, fingers slipping into the chain at Nika’s neck, tugging her just enough to provoke.

“Then let’s see.”

Their mouths collided—no soft warm-up, just heat and teeth and pride. Nika kissed her like she was trying to win something, her hand locking tight in Azzi’s curls. But Azzi held her ground, her fingers curling in the front of Nika’s hoodie, hips brushing Nika’s just enough to make her breath catch.

You turned slightly, still dazed from Paige’s kiss, only to feel Paige’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you gently against her. She kissed your neck this time—slow, deliberate—and whispered:

“You looked good kissing her.”

You swallowed hard. “You like that?”

Paige’s hand dragged down your spine. “I like watching you come undone.”

Your stomach tightened. You glanced back at Azzi and Nika—now flush against each other, Azzi’s thigh slotted between Nika’s legs, both of them panting lightly against each other’s mouths, too stubborn to stop.

Azzi broke the kiss first, licking her lips and glancing over at you and Paige. “So,” she breathed, voice husky, “how are we doing this?”

There was a silence.

Not hesitation. Just weight.

Then Nika looked at you. “You still with me, baby?”

You nodded. “Always.”

Paige’s hand curled tighter at your waist. “I want her,” she said plainly, nodding toward you.

Azzi licked her lips. “Then I guess it’s only fair if I get yours.”

Nika’s eyes flashed. But not with jealousy. She grinned—sharp, competitive.

“Oh, you think you can handle me?”

Azzi leaned in and whispered something low in Nika’s ear—something you couldn’t hear—but Nika’s breath hitched, and her grip on Azzi’s waist tightened immediately.

“Try me,” Azzi said.

Then Paige turned you to face her again, her mouth hovering just above yours.

“Just tell me to stop,” she said, voice serious for once.

You didn’t.

Instead, you pulled her down to kiss you again—this time deeper, hungrier, needier—and felt the world tilt beneath your feet.

The couch was right there.

The night was young.

And nothing was off-limits now.

Cabin Bedroom

The four of you didn’t make it far.

Paige sat first, pulling you down into her lap like she already knew you’d fit. Her mouth met yours immediately—urgent now, with no one watching, no teasing left in her. Her hand slid under your hoodie, fingers exploring your waist and the swell of your chest like she wanted to feel every inch.

You gasped into her mouth when she cupped your breast over your bra, thumb brushing your nipple, slow and deliberate.

Behind you, you heard Nika’s voice—low, amused. “Damn, you didn’t even buy her a drink first.”

“Didn’t need to,” Paige murmured against your skin. “She’s been ready all day.”

Azzi climbed onto the bed behind Nika and pressed her chest to her back, arms sliding around her waist. “And what about you?” she whispered against her ear. “Think you can handle both of us?”

Nika smirked, but her breath caught when Azzi’s hand slid lower. “You wanna find out that bad, Fudd?”

Azzi’s answer was a bite to her neck—firm enough to make Nika groan and drop her head back.

You could barely think. Paige had lifted your hoodie halfway, hands greedy on your skin, kissing down your neck while her other hand toyed with the button on your jeans.

“You good?” she asked quietly, pressing her forehead to yours.

You nodded, breathless. “More than.”

She smiled and pushed your jeans down just enough—fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, slow and teasing. Her fingers were rougher than Nika’s, a little cockier in how she moved, but you were wet enough to welcome the pressure.

“Mmm. Knew it,” she murmured, brushing against your clit. “You’ve been dripping since you kissed her.”

Nika, now turning in Azzi’s arms, snapped her gaze toward the two of you. “My girl’s dripping?” She pulled free of Azzi’s grip and crawled across the bed. “Move, Paige.”

Paige gave her a lazy grin. “Make me.”

Azzi grabbed Nika’s hoodie and pulled her back, flattening her to the bed. “You’ll get your turn,” she said, straddling Nika’s waist. “Let me see if your mouth’s as good as you say.”

Nika opened her mouth to respond, but Azzi was already tugging her own shorts down, shifting forward on her knees.

You watched, wide-eyed, as Nika gripped Azzi’s thighs and pulled her closer, pressing her mouth between Azzi’s legs like it was instinct. Azzi’s head dropped back instantly, her moan deep and sudden.

Paige turned you back to her, hand still moving between your thighs. “Let them put on a show. You’re still mine right now.”

Her fingers slid inside—just two, curling exactly right—and you arched into her chest with a moan that tore out of your throat.

“Shit,” you gasped. “Paige—”

“I got you,” she said, kissing you again. “You just stay right here.”

She curled her fingers again, thumb circling your clit now while her other hand wrapped tight around your waist to hold you in place. You were gasping into her neck, trembling, barely able to form a thought.

Across the bed, Azzi was grinding down on Nika’s mouth, one hand fisted in her curls, the other gripping the headboard for balance. Her breaths were shaky, desperate.

“Nika—fuck, right there—”

Nika groaned into her, holding her tighter, grinding her tongue deeper, loving every second of it.

You were close. You could feel it—your hips rocking against Paige’s hand, thighs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispered again, licking up the side of your throat. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

You came with a sob in Paige’s arms, legs trembling, nails gripping her shoulders like you might fall apart without her.

And from across the room, Azzi let out a broken moan and came too—grinding down on Nika’s mouth, her thighs shaking around her head, body locking up before she finally slumped forward, breathless.

Azzi collapsed onto her back, chest heaving. Nika sat up, lips glistening, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she looked toward you—right as Paige slid her fingers free and kissed your temple.

“She’s still shaking,” Paige said, satisfied.

Nika’s jaw flexed. “Yeah? That’s mine.”

She moved like a storm—striding across the bed, grabbing your jaw gently but firmly, and kissing you deep, letting you taste Azzi on her tongue. It made your head spin. Your thighs were still trembling, but that didn’t stop her from pulling you away from Paige, repositioning you with practiced control.

She laid you down onto the mattress, climbing between your legs without hesitation. “Spread,” she ordered, voice low, and you obeyed before you even registered the command.

“You already came once,” Nika murmured, dragging her mouth down your stomach, fingers hooking in your panties. “Let’s see how many times you can take me.”

Paige, still sitting beside you, watched with interest, fingers tracing slow circles over Azzi’s bare thigh as she caught her breath.

Nika licked a long stripe up your center, and your whole body jolted.

“God, Nika—”

“You’re dripping,” she muttered. “I should be mad you gave that to someone else first.”

But the way her mouth moved said otherwise—possessive, hungry, fast. Her tongue curled around your clit like she’d missed it, like she needed this. You cried out, hand in her hair, already close again. She slid two fingers inside without warning, curling them while her tongue never stopped working you.

Across the bed, Azzi turned toward Paige, still breathless. “So…” she said, her voice husky. “You gonna be nice to me now?”

Paige leaned over, slowly climbing over her. “Baby,” she murmured, kissing her shoulder, “I’ve been nice.”

Azzi scoffed, but let Paige pin her wrists gently above her head, kissing her with slow, dark intent. Paige’s thigh pressed between Azzi’s legs, already feeling how soaked she still was. “You came fast,” she whispered, dragging her teeth across Azzi’s jaw. “Gonna give me another one?”

Azzi bit her lip. “Only if you work for it.”

Paige grinned, then slid down her body. “Challenge accepted.”

Nika was relentless between your legs, her tongue and fingers working you up again faster than you thought possible. “That’s it, baby,” she said against you. “Come again. Right now.”

Your second orgasm hit harder—sharp and sudden. You cried out, thighs locking around her head as she rode you through it, moaning into you like she wanted to live there.

When you finally collapsed, body trembling, Nika sat up, chest rising and falling. “Still mine,” she said, brushing your hair off your face. “Don’t forget that.”

You smiled weakly. “Never.”

Meanwhile, Azzi was unraveling again—Paige had one hand wrapped around her thigh, the other teasing her entrance as her mouth worked her clit with slow, excruciating precision. Azzi was panting, squirming under her. “Paige—fuck—”

Paige didn’t stop. Just grinned against her. “C’mon, pretty girl. Give it to me again.”

Azzi came with a cry, arching into her mouth, hands fisting the sheets, and Paige moaned into her like she’d just tasted something forbidden.

You sat up, still dizzy, only to be pulled gently into Nika’s lap again.

But this time—this time—Azzi reached for you too.

Her fingers brushed your knee, her eyes dark with something gentler, warmer. “Come here.”

You leaned toward her, and Paige shifted behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist while the four of you tangled together, bodies flushed and slick, breath heavy, kisses starting again—everywhere.

This time slower. This time deeper.

Not just heat.

Something more.

Bodies tangled—legs over laps, mouths on skin, hands everywhere.

Paige was still behind Azzi, one arm around her middle, the other sliding back down between her thighs. Azzi melted into it, her head dropping to your shoulder as she pulled you into a kiss—slow, messy, half-lost in the haze of overstimulation.

Nika, behind you, was kissing your neck again, her fingers teasing your breast, voice low and smug against your skin.

“Look at you,” she murmured, watching you kiss Azzi while Paige made her fall apart again. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re wrecked.”

Azzi gasped into your mouth, her thighs twitching. Paige had her right on the edge again—three fingers this time, curling up, working her with practiced precision. “She’s so responsive,” Paige said into Azzi’s ear. “Feel how tight she gets when you kiss her like that?”

You slipped your hand between Azzi’s legs too—right under Paige’s—your fingers circling her clit gently, in time with the rhythm.

Azzi shattered.

She came again, hard, her whole body seizing as she choked out your name and Paige’s together. You caught her mouth with yours, kissing her through it, while Nika’s hand crept between your legs from behind, two fingers sinking in like your body had been waiting for her.

You moaned into Azzi’s mouth, and Nika grinned.

“Still not done with you,” Nika breathed. “Lean back on me.”

You obeyed without thinking, chest arching as Nika fucked you from behind, slow and deep, her free hand gripping your throat—not tight, just there, grounding you in the overwhelming waves of pleasure. You could feel her breath at your ear, could hear Azzi and Paige tangled together in front of you, Azzi’s hand now slipping between Paige’s legs for the first time.

“Let me,” Azzi whispered.

Paige spread her knees wide, looking downright cocky about it. “You better keep up, Fudd.”

But the second Azzi’s fingers slid in, Paige lost her rhythm—her mouth dropped open, her hips grinding into Azzi’s hand before she could say a word.

“Oh—fuck, Azzi—”

You were watching it all—Paige unraveling for the first time, her dominant edge slipping while Azzi fucked her with slow, relentless strokes. Nika curled her fingers harder at that exact moment, making your back arch again, a desperate whine escaping your throat.

“Touch her clit,” Nika said into your ear, nodding toward Paige. “Make her come for us.”

You reached forward and did just that—your fingers rubbing tight, fast circles while Azzi’s moved inside her.

Paige’s jaw went slack. Her hips bucked, moaning your name now too.

“Shit, baby, yes—right there—”

And then she broke.

Her orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over her in full view of all of you, her head dropping to Azzi’s shoulder as her thighs trembled and her voice cracked. Azzi kissed her cheek, her jaw, her lips—soft and proud.

You weren’t far behind.

Nika had you spread wide in her lap, fingers thrusting deep, her grip on your throat just enough to have you floating. You turned your head, kissed her, whimpered into her mouth as you came for the third time—body seizing, stars bursting behind your eyes.

Every one of you, breathless.

Glowing.

Sprawled across the bed like wreckage.

——

It started with a look.

Azzi on one side of the bed. You on the other. Both of you grinning as your girlfriends lay back, catching their breath from the chaos of before—thinking maybe the night was winding down.

But no.

You exchanged a glance, and that was all it took.

Without a word, Azzi rolled over, crawling between Paige’s legs again, this time slower—intentional. You did the same to Nika, your palm pressed to her thigh as you pushed it open, her breath catching like she already knew what you were about to do.

“What are you—” Nika started, but her voice cut off when your tongue met her.

Paige flinched the same moment, head snapping up, only to fall back again with a low groan. “Oh my god, Azzi—”

Azzi just hummed in response, her mouth already deep on her, fingers gripping Paige’s thighs to hold her still. Paige’s hand flew to Azzi’s head on instinct, trying to ground herself, her legs already twitching.

Nika was no better. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, one hand tangled in your hair, the other blindly groping for something—anything—to hang onto.

And then her hand brushed Paige’s.

Their fingers locked on instinct. Tight. Desperate.

Neither of them said a word.

Paige’s hips jerked suddenly when Azzi sucked a little harder, a whimper escaping her mouth before she could stop it. Nika moaned at the same time, her hand squeezing Paige’s like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth.

“Shit,” Nika breathed, eyes rolling back. “She’s—fuck—she’s good.”

“Don’t gas her up right now,” Paige rasped, voice wrecked. “Or I’ll—fuck, Azzi, don’t stop—”

Their hands clutched tighter, forearms pressing, legs starting to tremble.

You looked up briefly, seeing it—Paige’s head thrown back, Nika’s jaw slack, the two of them gripping onto each other like the only thing keeping them sane was the shared overload.

And god, you wanted to push her over the edge. You sucked Nika’s clit a little harder, dragged your fingers along her entrance, feeling her thighs clamp around your head.

“Baby—baby, I’m gonna—”

Nika choked out a moan and came hard, her entire body convulsing, hand squeezing Paige’s like a lifeline.

Paige followed—seconds later—her voice cracking as Azzi buried her tongue deeper, not letting up until Paige was gasping, back arched, thighs shaking.

They came together, clinging to each other, falling apart in sync like they didn’t know how to fall separately anymore.

You and Azzi pulled back slowly—lips wet, proud smirks on your faces as you crawled back up the bed.

Nika looked dazed. Paige blinked slowly like she was just coming back into her body.

Azzi leaned down and kissed Paige’s neck. “Still dominant?” she whispered.

Paige didn’t answer.

Just pulled her into a kiss.

Nika turned to you, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re such a fucking problem,” she muttered, voice hoarse.

You grinned and kissed her, slow and deep. “Good.”

⸻

A long silence followed—just the sound of breathing, skin against skin, the occasional soft kiss or stroke along a thigh.

Eventually, Paige spoke, her voice wrecked but smug. “…We’re doing this again next weekend.”

Azzi laughed weakly into her neck. “Bet.”

Nika kissed your temple, then looked around at the flushed, sweaty pile of limbs. “Can we just live here?”

You hummed, still too gone to form a real sentence.

But yeah.

You could get used to this.

-

The room was still heavy with heat—sheets twisted, bodies flushed, skin damp. But the urgency had passed. Now it was just weightless.

You were the first to fall back, chest heaving, limbs boneless. Nika collapsed beside you, arm flopping over your stomach, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she mumbled.

You smiled lazily, turning to kiss her hair. “That’s fair. You didn’t exactly hold back.”

She made a low, pleased sound. “Neither did you.”

Across the bed, Paige was curled against the headboard, arms loosely wrapped around Azzi, who was tucked into her chest with one thigh still thrown over Paige’s. They looked like they’d been fused together. Hair tangled. Lips pink. Bodies humming in the same quiet rhythm.

“I think my soul left my body,” Azzi muttered, not moving.

Paige chuckled, low and smug. “Don’t worry, babe. I caught it.”

Azzi groaned and swatted her lightly. “Corny.”

You reached across the bed and brushed your fingers along Azzi’s arm. “You good?”

She turned her head toward you, eyes heavy but soft. “So good.”

Nika shifted slightly beside you, her hand slipping beneath the blanket to rest low on your stomach. “This,” she murmured, her voice rough from moaning, “this is so much better than last cabin.”

Paige lifted her head. “That’s because we weren’t competing the whole time.”

“You say that,” Nika replied, “but you definitely tried to one-up me with the leg shake thing.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “I succeeded at the leg shake thing.”

Azzi just snorted into her shoulder.

You smiled into Nika’s neck, letting your hand find her hip beneath the blanket. “You’re both hot. Shut up and cuddle.”

“Finally,” Azzi sighed, settling deeper into Paige’s chest. “Someone with sense.”

There was a pause—comfortable and full, silence settling between all four of you like a blanket. Legs tangled. Hands lazily trailing over skin. Breath syncing up.

“I kinda don’t want to move,” Paige mumbled after a while.

“You don’t have to,” you said softly.

“Good,” Nika added, nuzzling closer to you. “Because I’m stuck. You broke me.”

“Good,” you echoed, lips curling.

Azzi turned her face into Paige’s neck, her voice barely audible now. “Next time, I want a whole weekend of this.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Same.”

No one moved.

No one needed to.

Just the sound of hearts slowing down. Fingers brushing. Lips pressed gently to shoulders and necks. Everything quiet except the occasional shared breath or sleepy giggle when someone’s hand twitched or thigh shifted just right.

By the time sleep crept in, none of you were sure where one body ended and another began.

And none of you cared.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 3) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f) ft. Jimin

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 9028

Synopsis: Giving you what you wanted seemed to put more of a rift between you and Jungkook. How could you enjoy his every touch, but despise him for it at the same time? Now you were stuck working on a huge project together, adding to the tension building between you two. High tensions and deadlines finally brought things to a head, forcing some truth out of each of you. But somehow that only seemed to make things worse. You couldn't handle it anymore. You needed a distraction. And what better distraction than a certain pretty red-haired man that you worked with?

Note: the plot and smut might be equal for once lmfao. as always, i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! (longer note at the end)

This time around, you didn't have the privilege of avoiding Jungkook. You were still very much stuck on the project with him, despite all the excuses you had tried to make to your boss. She was having non of it; determined to get you two working together. So, you grit your teeth, and for the sake of professionalism (mostly just to keep your job), you remained civil with him. Your job was made surprisingly easier by Jungkook. After your last encounter, he'd become distant and quiet. He was now only talking to you if he really needed to, and doing everything in his power to not be in the same room as you.

Jungkook was not happy. Despite giving you exactly what you wanted the last time, you still loathed him and he couldn't understand why. When you left that file room, he was quick to get himself off - still reeling from your taste, how you felt, your sweet moans. But even after climaxing, he was still rock hard. As much as he wanted to keep going, he knew he'd been gone for too long and someone would come looking for him soon. So, he fixed himself up as best as he could. He tucked his cock up into his waistband, tried to fix his collar, and ditched his stained blazer. The rest of the day, he seemed normal enough to everyone else, but he was all too aware of his arousal. Jungkook couldn't have gotten home quicker that night; immediately pulling your panties out of his pocket and his cock out of his pants. Once he finally felt satisfied and his hormones balanced out, that's when the reality of his thoughts hit him. He'd put up with so much of your shit; but you treated him like trash, started rumours about him, humiliated him at work and in front of your boss - all because you wanted him to touch you. And when he did just that, he was still the asshole at the end of the day somehow. Did you really hate him that much? The frustration that was building up in him wasn't healthy and he knew that. He couldn't help himself when you looked at him with so much defiance and self-righteousness. He just wanted to wipe that look off your face - put you in your place. Jungkook had to stop himself; stop giving you what you wanted every time. So he decided to distance himself.

You'd think you would've been happy with his efforts to stay away from you. And you were, at least in the beginning. You were fully expecting this project to be a nightmare because Jungkook was going to give you a hard time. But he didn't. He was as civil as you were. Initially, you thought that maybe he finally understood how poorly he'd treated you- felt bad even. Maybe that's why he was making this easy. That was until you noticed how he was rushing out the door whenever you were the only person in the room. Or how he'd stopped quipping back when you slipped in any passive-aggressive comments. Or how rigid he was around you - all the time - despite being completely normal with everyone else. That was when your blood began boiling. He was basically turning the tables on you now, even using your tactics against you. Granted, in all your rage, you'd gone too far before. It was only fair that you'd humiliated him just as he'd done to you. Even though you didn't feel even by the end of your last exchange. While his degrading words never failed to drench your panties, some of it felt a little too real. Did he really think you were just one of these women that throw themselves at him? Extra desperate for him? That you were just waiting around for him to pay attention to you? You tried not to think about it, knowing it would only piss you off more. His new behaviour was most definitely not helping. It felt like he'd proved his point to himself, and now he was ignoring you as if you were a bad one night stand.

Despite your growing frustrations, part of you did feel bad about starting that rumour about him and the boss. You still didn't know whether it was true or not (although you were strongly leaning towards it being true). Jungkook had never clarified that; he had seemed more offended by your accusations of his lack of skill. But whether he was sleeping with her or not, the whole office didn't need to know. Not that she didn't make it obvious that he was her favourite anyways. You felt the need to clean up the mess you'd made, just to clear your own conscious, if nothing else. Just as sneakily as you started the rumour, you began discrediting the idea whenever people brought it up around you.

"He acts like that with everyone."

"He's everyone's favourite, apparently. Of course he's the boss' favourite too."

"He does get a lot of the shit projects that no one else wants too."

Your passive-aggressive comments and the fact that everyone had forgotten who'd started the rumour, helped with the damage control. Soon the rumour began dying down, and thankfully before your boss had heard them. But while you were doing a saint's work, Jungkook continued treating you like a stranger. You fought the urge to march over to him and give him a piece of your mind, but the last thing you wanted was to draw more attention back to him. Maybe this distance that he was putting between you two was for the best.

The next two weeks went by quickly as you engrossed yourself in the project and ignored Jungkook's weird behaviour. You were surprised to find that you actually worked well together when you weren't at his throat. He worked hard, made sure to get his work done on time, and - despite refusing to socialize with you - was good at communicating with you about the project. At first, you found it hard to move past Jungkook's cold behaviour towards you. But you certainly couldn't let it affect your work either, so you decided to stick it out - at least till this project was over. When the project finally came to a close, you were quite proud of your work. But the lingering feeling that you'd never speak to him again after this was slowly eating away at you. Why did you even care?

The night before your submission and presentation, you and Jungkook were the last ones left in the office. As you closed the last tab on your computer, you sighed contentedly and stretched your back. After sitting at your desk for so many late nights over the last few weeks, you felt like your entire body was sore. A disgruntled sigh from behind you made you swivel in your chair. While you'd just wrapped up the presentation for the next morning, Jungkook was still busy at work. His brows were furrowed as he carefully examined the papers in his hand, his desk scattered with more paper. He had taken on the responsibility to finalize the submission documents which is what he'd been working on the entire day. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from the past few days, or maybe you felt bad, but you decided to try and make conversation.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, standing up to stretch a little more. Jungkook's eyes flitted over to you as you broke the silence, his gaze roaming over your figure briefly.

"No, I'll manage," he replied blankly, quick to get back to his reading. You rolled your eyes, not entirely surprised by his cold answer.

"I'm gonna get some coffee. Looks like a late night for you, do you want some?" You asked as you walked towards the door.

"Yeah," he answered curtly. You froze in your spot momentarily, not expecting him to agree. This was probably the most friendly he'd been in over two weeks. "Oh and do you have the final drafts? I need them to cross reference and edit."

"Yeah, I do," you said, turning on your heels to get back to your desk. But Jungkook just waved dismissively.

"Just leave them on your desk before you leave. I'll get them later." You nodded, heading out to get the coffee. You returned with the two coffees, stepping behind Jungkook's desk to hand him his.

"Here. You like yours sweet right?" you asked, handing him his cup. Your stomach fluttered as his fingers brushed against yours while he took the cup. Jungkook didn't miss the way your gaze dropped to your touching fingers, but he didn't say anything. He simply nodded, sipping his drink. You sighed, walking back over to your desk and plopping in your chair.

"Don't you have manners?" you snapped, annoyed with his dismissive behaviour. Jungkook looked up at you, an amused glint in his eyes. You snapped your fingers. "Hello? You're supposed to thank people when they do things for you."

"Really?" he asked condescendingly, turning back to his papers. "I've done plenty of things for you, and haven't heard a 'thank you' either." The insinuation of his words made your face heat up with embarrassment and anger.

"You're such a fucking prick," you cursed, quickly grabbing your things. Suddenly, you couldn't get out of the office quicker. You didn't know why you'd bothered to try to talk to him at all. Why stay here and suffer further humiliation when you could be at home, taking a bath instead?

"First an asshole, now a prick. I must really be the worst," he said, a bite to his words despite his disinterested tone. You scoffed in disgust, feeling stupid for thinking he'd even consider being polite. Without another word, you shoved your things into your bag and left the office. Jungkook's eyes only lifted to watch you walk out the door, a certain frustration building up in him. But he shoved his feelings down to focus on his work.

When you finally got home, you ate something sweet with your coffee, took a hot shower, and climbed into bed. Pushing aside all thoughts of Jungkook, you knew you had to get a good night's rest to nail your presentation in the morning. Luckily for you, your exhaustion from the past few weeks caught up with you the moment your head hit the pillow. And then you were out like a light. At least until the sound of your phone buzzing woke you up a few hours later.

"Hello?" you mumbled groggily into your phone, beyond pissed that someone had woken you up.

"It's Jungkook. Where are the drafts? I can't find them anywhere," he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. It took you a moment to process what was going on as you wiped the sleep from your eyes.

"They must be on my desk," I groaned angrily, just wanting to back to sleep.

"If they were on your desk, why would I be calling you?" he snapped. You sat up, trying to think clearly. You knew they were on your desk, but then it dawned on you - you had shoved them into your bag in your hurry to leave. You cursed under your breath, knowing that Jungkook was about to give you more shit for this.

"Fuck, I think I might've taken them by accident," you admitted, bracing yourself. There was a moment of silence which was followed by a quiet groan. You could picture him pinching the bridge of nose in irritation.

"I need those drafts to finish to finalize the submission docs," he said blankly, as if the solution to this problem was glaringly obvious. You pulled your phone away from your face, staring at the screen in disbelief for a moment.

"I am not coming in to the office right now Jungkook. It's 3am for fucks sake," you said, bewildered.

"Well I need them now," he grit through his teeth. "We have to submit these at 8, you know that."

"Look, I'm sorry. But I'm not coming in at this time. I can come in earlier in the morning," you offered.

"I need them now," he repeated. "Fine. I'll just come pick them up myself. Text me your address," he demanded before hanging up. Once again, you were left staring at your phone in disbelief. What other choice did you have? You texted him your address and laid back down to rest your eyes for a minute - which meant you went right back to sleep.

You jolted awake as your doorbell rang incessantly, over and over again. Groaning in irritation, you reluctantly got out of bed, dragging your body out of your room.

“Can you fucking stop?! I’m coming!” You shouted. You weren’t the nicest person to start with, but you were much worse when people fucked with your sleep. You unlocked the door, angrily swinging it open. “Do you have to be an asshole even at 3 in the morning?” You spat, groggily rubbing your eyes. Jungkook shot you a dirty look, like he was repulsed to just be in your presence. He took in your disheveled state. Without a word, he pushed past you, stepping into your apartment. You scoffed at his attitude.

“The drafts?” He asked curtly. You groaned, feeling your annoyance build up.

“You’re seriously gonna walk into my apartment and act like this?” You asked, your words laced with venom. Jungkook stepped closer to you, his presence suddenly feeling intimidating.

“I wouldn’t have to be here if you knew how to fucking listen, hm?” He grit through his teeth. Your jaw nearly fell to floor, bewildered by his audacity. “What did I tell you earlier today?” His voice was deeply condescending.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, still in shock. He took another step closer to you, now towering over you.

“I told you to make sure you left the drafts for me. Did you listen?” He questioned rhetorically, the anger in his voice rising with each sentence. When you didn’t answer, he grabbed your jaw and forced your head to shake a no. “I wouldn’t have to be here, with you, to get those fucking drafts if you’d just done what I said,” he spat, practically shoving you away as he let go of your face. There was no fucking way he just did that. "What is it? Does everything I say go through one ear and out the other? Nothing in here to make it stick?" he asked, flicking your forehead, a dark glint in his eyes. It was obvious that he wasn't just talking about the drafts anymore.

Finally snapping out of your shock, you grabbed his hand as he was about to flick you again. Tension swam in the air as your grip tightened and your gaze pierced him. "Jeon Jungkook, you're crossing the line," you said firmly, trying to contain your anger.

"Crossing the line?" He laughed loudly before pulling his hand away from you. "Like you did?" he asked with dry amusement. You winced slightly at his words, feeling like he'd slapped you with them. He leaned against your kitchen counter, seeming tense despite his lax posture. "Actually no, I'm crossing the line in the privacy of your home - with no one around. But you felt the need to do it in front of other people. So I guess this isn't the same, is it?"

Your eye twitched at his words. Logically, you knew he was right. What he was doing now wasn't the same as what you'd done. It wasn't nearly as malicious as your actions and you probably deserved some of this. But, as guilty as you felt, anger was quickly replacing the feeling as he continued to behave so disrespectfully. Besides, you were also fighting back your irrational side that was telling you to slap him in the face.

"Do you feel better now? Are we even?" you grit through your teeth. He chuckled darkly, not a hint of humour reaching his eyes. He stepped forward again, backing you against the counter with no room to escape.

"Not even a little bit," he said, the depth of his voice rumbling through your chest. He leaned down, looking into your eyes so intently that you felt vulnerable; like he could see all your innermost thoughts. “We’re nowhere near even Y/n.” Your heart raced as you braced yourself against the counter, staring up at him.

“Then what else do you want from me?” Your words came out as a hoarse whisper. His hands enveloped yours on the counter, keeping you trapped under him.

“I want you to tell me why.” It felt like he was consuming you with his body and his words. Your stomach churned at the thought of baring your feelings to him. You tried to turn away to avoid his gaze, but his hand quickly grabbed your jaw and forced you to meet his eyes. “I’ve been very considerate; waiting for this project to be done and keeping my distance at the office. So you’re going to do one thing for me, and tell me why.”

“Why does it matter? Don’t you just want to get your revenge?” You retorted, a new fire burning in you that was fueled by embarrassment.

“Y/n, I’ve had to deal with people looking at me like I’m a walking STD for weeks. It’s truly a miracle boss never heard about the rumours or I would’ve been in so much shit,” he seethed, leaning closer. “So yeah, I wanna know why you did it.”

“I-I fixed it! No one really thinks it anymore. I already undid what was done. Isn’t that enough?” You tried to justify, squirming in his hold.

“Enough?” His voice dropped lower as he spoke mere centimetres from your lips. “You want me to thank you for fixing your own mistake?” When he put it that way, you felt even more stupid. “Why Y/n?” He repeated. You took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let you go if you didn’t answer. There was no way around it.

“You left me. In that bathroom, you used me and you left me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest from a mix of emotions. Jungkook didn’t react. His expression stayed the same, indifferent, still staring into your eyes. Silence followed your answer which somehow felt more humiliating than actually being left in that bathroom. Your rage quickly built up.

“Seriously?! You have nothing to say about that?” You asked, angrily yanking his hand away from your jaw. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You were the one that didn’t want anyone to know,” he finally spat. “So yeah, I left. Did you want to walk out together?” His voice began to rise a little, but he was sure not to yell.

“No, but–,” you started, but he interrupted you.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed. “And as for using you, you were pretty eager yourself.” He pressed you harder into the counter as his expression darkened. “I remember you taking my cock all the way to the back of your throat; so determined to make me feel good, to make me cum.” You tried to even your breathing so you wouldn't give yourself away as your mind raced with the memory. It wasn’t working too well. “I barely had to do anything. You were practically begging to suck me off.” The embarrassment was making it a lot harder to maintain your eye contact but you didn’t want to back down.

“Fuck you Jungkook. This is why I did it.” Your eyes were fiery as the truth came out. Well, part of it at least. “All you’ve done since then is humiliate me. Is this a game to you? Fuck with me and then make fun of me after?”

“Humiliate you?” He looked at you like you were insane. “You think this is me making fun of you?”

“What the fuck else is it then?! You make me sound like…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling like this conversation was getting too real. You had to turn away to hide the emotions that were most definitely written all over your face. Jungkook shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wasn’t even sure how to explain that he wasn’t making fun of you.

“Y/n.” His voice was serious. “If I wanted to humiliate you, I wouldn’t be doing it here, when no one’s around. I’m not interested in pulling any stunts like you did.” His words stopped your thoughts in their tracks. He leaned down next to your ear.

“Because as much as I want everyone to know that it's me that makes a mess of you," he whispered, "I don't want anyone else to see what a dirty little slut you turn into for me." It felt like the oxygen was sucked out of the air as the soft words hit your ears.

"Every filthy word, every depraved sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours is only for me to hear." Why was it that your brain turned off whenever he spoke to you like this? His body was now fully pressed against yours, trying to get as close as he could. But his hands stayed put, keeping your hands pinned to the counter. He nuzzled his face against your hair, right above your ear. His own breathing was heavy and this somehow felt more intimate than anything else you'd done before.

"That lewd face you make for me when you finally get what you want, fuck," he groaned. "I don't want anyone to see that but me." The possessiveness that laced his words should be setting off warning signs in your mind. Instead, it was making your chest heavy and building an ache in your core.

Jungkook was starting to feel more vulnerable than he wanted and he could feel his mental fortitude chipping away. He'd vowed to himself that he wouldn't cave to you - to his own desires - after your reaction last time. But he was finding it extremely difficult in the moment. He pulled away enough to look at you again. You found yourself searching for something in his eyes as you stared back at him. Sincerity maybe? You weren't sure you'd even be able to see it past the frustration that adorned his features.

"You think I'm making fun of you? You have no idea what you do to me Y/n." His face contorted into a snarl. "It's burned into my brain; the way your throat felt, your pleads and moans, how good your pussy tastes, how fucking tight you are." You knew that your eyes, clouded with lust, were definitely giving you away now. "Makes me rock hard whenever I think about it," he admitted with a humourless chuckle. He was pissed - at you, but even more so at himself. Meanwhile, you were struggling to process what he was saying. "Does that sound like I'm making fun of you?"

You were left speechless. Your mouth opened to answer him, but no words came out. Jungkook scoffed at your lack of reaction, feeling even more frustrated after spilling the truth. While both of your bodies were reacting to the situation, the tension in the room was becoming too suffocating to ignore. Your eyes subconsciously dropped to his lips, and that was nearly enough to snap his thin thread of restraint. His own breathing was ragged with the effort it took him to maintain his self control. He went to say something but quickly stopped himself. His eyes closed as he turned away to collect himself for a brief moment.

"You, on the other hand, are hell bent on ruining me," he grit, finally putting some space between you two as he stepped back. "You wanna talk about making fun of someone? How 'bout all that shit you said about me - that you lied about - in front of everyone?" His anger was becoming abundantly clear, and you couldn't help but start feeling guilty.

"I-I said I was sorry," you mumbled.

"Do you even realize how fucking humiliating that was for me? Or how screwed I would've been if the boss found out?" he grit through his teeth. "I tolerate so much of your shit Y/n. Just because I take it in stride doesn't mean you can do and say whatever the fuck you want. You think this is some joke? You could've destroyed my career Y/n." With every word he spat at you, your guilt resurfaced, taking in the gravity of your actions.

"Do you hate me that much?" he asked, a hint of hurt in his voice. When you didn't respond, he just scoffed. Your answer was clear to him. It shouldn't matter to him, because it's not like he had any reason to care about whether you liked him or hated him. But the bitterness of your silence still left a bad taste in his mouth, making him want to leave as soon as possible. He took a few more steps back until he was near your front door again.

"Get me those drafts" he said coldly, any sign of his previous emotions disappearing from his face. You didn't move for a moment, still processing what he'd just said. When he shot you an expectant look, you finally snapped out of it and grabbed the files out of your bag on the couch. You handed them to him wordlessly, a mix of emotions swirling through you. As he turned your front door, about to leave, he looked over his shoulder at you. "And by the way. You actually haven't even apologized once." Your stomach dropped as you realized you hadn't said "I'm sorry" at any point - too busy defending yourself the entire time. Before you could say it, Jungkook was already out the door.

It took you a while to fall asleep after Jungkook left. There were a million thoughts running through your mind. How were you supposed to process Jungkook's confession and rejection at the same time? It truly felt like he was done with you now that he'd said his piece - like one last 'fuck you' before he never had to speak to you again. You tried your best to push away all the thoughts that clouded your mind. The presentation you had to give in the morning was far too important for you to screw up because of all this shit. With great difficulty, you eventually managed to get some sleep.

The morning went by in a blur and before you knew it, you found yourself in the conference room at work, with Jungkook by your side, in front of your boss and coworkers. Regardless of your lack of sleep and heightened emotions, you managed to keep yourself composed and present your work clearly. Jungkook seemed to do the same, although you weren't sure he cared about what had happened at all. Even under the scrutiny of your boss, you felt confident about your work. This was only solidified as your boss praised you and Jungkook at the end of the presentation. Obviously, she leaned a little heavier into praising Jungkook, but she still commended your work. As your boss collected all the documents and left the room, you felt relief and dread take over you. Yes, it was a relief that this huge project was finally complete. But did this mean that Jungkook would never talk to you again?

Your coworkers came up to you, congratulating the two of you and immediately making plans to go out that night. You tried refusing but they remained persistent until you caved in. You glanced over at Jungkook. He seemed so normal when he was interacting with everyone else; he had a smile on his face, he was joking, and happily agreeing to go out later. You felt a pang in your chest. You focused on the conversation happening around you.

As 5 o'clock rolled around, your coworkers were already buzzing to leave. You followed their suit and began wrapping up your things.

"Hey," a familiar voice caught your attention. "I didn't catch you earlier, but I heard your presentation went well. Great work." Jimin's kind words eased some of your inner turmoil. You mirrored his smile with a small thank you.

"Are you coming to the bar?" You asked, gesturing to the groups of people that were leaving together. Jimin nodded, offering you his arm as you stood up from your chair. You gratefully took it, using him for support to steady yourself in your heels.

"Shall we?" he asked. You smiled again, appreciative for the distraction as you walked together to the nearby bar. When you got there, you wasted no time in ordering your drinks. You caught sight of Jungkook walking in not too long after, your gazes meeting for the briefest of moments. You immediately downed a drink, the burn in your throat working as a perfect distraction. By now you should've learned your lesson; that you and alcohol was the perfect recipe for disaster. But your mind seemed to have forgotten that as it craved for a way to take the edge off. Jimin watched you amusedly as you drank so quickly.

"Stressed?" he asked with a chuckle, sipping his own drink. You turned to him, trying to forget about Jungkook being there.

"Hmm?" you asked, confused.

"You drank that cocktail like it was a shot," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You must be stressed."

"Right. Yeah, just need to clear my mind a little," you answered sheepishly. You sipped your next drink, not wanting to alarm Jimin any further.

"You just finished a huge project. Shouldn't you be relieved? Less stressed in fact?"

"I should," you sighed. "It's not..." you started, your eyes glancing over at Jungkook again, "...work related. I guess." Seeing him acting so normal, as if he hadn't confessed how he couldn't stop thinking about you, was frustrating. You began questioning your memory. Had he really said that? Because anyone who looked at the two of you right now would assume he didn't even know you at this point. You polished off the rest of your drink in seconds. Jimin followed your gaze, a look of understanding washing over his face as he put the puzzle pieces together.

"What's going on between you two?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing," you answered truthfully, turning back to him. After all, he'd barely even spoken to you over the last few weeks. And how would you even define what was happening between you two before that?

"It must be some pretty intense 'nothing' to have you drinking like this," he joked, watching you start on your third drink already. But Jimin took the hint; you didn't want to get into it and he would respect that. While the rest of your coworkers seemed to mingle amongst each other, you and Jimin kept to yourselves, the conversation flowing smoothly between you. Talking to Jimin was easy and it was doing wonders at calming your mind. You noticed that he was moving closer to you as the time went on, soon sitting so close that your knees were brushing. The more drinks you had, the less you minded his proximity, finding it almost comforting in a sense.

Jimin, who was buzzed but not as tipsy as you, noticed every little movement you made. The way you leaned in to talk to him, the way your skirt rode up your thighs as you crossed your legs, the hazy look in your eyes. It was all building up in the back of his mind. He'd always found you interesting, cute even - but between work and your bickering with Jungkook, you never seemed to have the time to actually become friends. He'd also be lying if he said he just wanted to be friends with you. He wouldn't be sitting so close to you, his fingers tracing patterns into your knee, innocently teasing the hemline of your skirt if he wanted to just be friends. Although you continued the conversation, he saw your eyes flit down to where his fingers lay and your breathing get slightly heavier. But you didn't move away.

Maybe it was the drinks in your system, but Jimin's fingers that were threatening to slip under your skirt were making your heart race. It had been a while since you'd flirted with someone else; usually, too busy bickering with Jungkook when you came out to the bar with your work friends. It was a nice change of pace, and it was certainly helping you ignore your guilt and frustration towards Jungkook. You'd always thought Jimin was attractive, but you never got any non-friendly signs from him - until now. Because the dark glint in his eyes as he listened to you speak and whatever his hands were doing were definitely not friendly. You tried to finish the story you were telling, but your brain kept getting side-tracked by him, making you halt momentarily in between words. Your gaze kept going back to his fingers that were trailing further up your thigh now. And when you were looking at his face, they kept dropping to his plump lips.

"Something wrong? You're struggling to focus," Jimin said, leaning in to speak softly into your ear. The feeling of his breath against your lobe sent a shiver down your spine.

"No, just...got a lot on my mind," you answered, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. You sipped your drink as Jimin pulled back a little, a smirk resting on his lips. His other hand came up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, his gaze seemingly more intense now.

"I hope you're thinking about me, especially when you're looking at me like that," he teased. Your face heat up a little as you realized he had could see the effect he had on you. His hand rest in your hair, while the other continued it's ministrations on your thigh. You didn't reply, turning away in embarrassment. Jimin chuckled at your reaction, cocking his head to the side to meet your gaze again. "I don't think I've ever seen you flustered like this before. It's really...cute." You flushed more when he placed a finger under your chin, guiding you to look at him. The kindness - the sweetness - he was treating you with felt foreign compared to Jungkook's ravenous appetite.

"Are you really calling me cute right now?" you asked weakly, hyperaware of his full hand gripping your thigh now. You found yourself leaning into his touch, subconsciously moving forward, as if his simple touch was beckoning you.

"I guess you're right," he chuckled, his hooded eyes roaming over your face. "I'd be lying if I said I'm just thinking about how cute you are." Your stomach flipped at the implication behind his words.

"What else are you thinking then?"

"You do look very cute like this," he said gently, leaning in closer, gaze dropping down to your lips. "But I'm also thinking about what you'd look like if I..." he trailed off, his breath hitting your lips. It felt like every thought in your mind had disappeared as you focused on your proximity. The few moments that he lingered, your heart raced with anticipation. Then his eyes met yours again, hazy with lust and that was the last straw. You weren't sure if it was you or him that closed the distance, but the next thing you knew, his lips were pressed against yours. Jimin's kiss was soft and tender; his hand slid behind your ear, pulling you closer to kiss you deeper. You moaned quietly against his lips - enjoying the sensuality of his kiss. His tongue gently swiped across your lips, slowly meeting yours as you parted your lips. His mouth and hands were doing an excellent job at clearing your mind. And while it worked - you were solely focused on Jimin and how he felt for the most part - a nagging thought broke through your amorous barrier.

Had Jungkook kissed you yet?

The simple thought broke your immersion. You pulled away, breathing heavily to catch your breath. Jimin's gaze was darker as his chest rose and fell.

"How do I look now then?" you asked, gulping down the lump that was forming in your throat as you were silently spiraling. Jimin grunted, his fingers trailing down your neck.

"Tempting," he answered, the one word heavy with desire. Your brain was at war with itself. Half of it was telling you to crawl into Jimin's lap and keep kissing him. And the other half couldn't stop thinking about how Jungkook hadn't kissed you - not even once. The conflicting thoughts in your already drunk mind were overwhelming and you needed a minute to calm down. Despite your urges, you slipped off the barstool.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back," you said, stumbling a little as you straightened yourself. You gave him a small kiss to reassure him that you weren't rejecting him - you truly just needed a cold splash of water on your face to wash away Jungkook from your mind. Jimin's lips followed after yours as you pulled away, but he shot you a smile and nodded as you stepped away. You made your way through the crowd, distracted and hazy from the alcohol. You'd almost made it out of the crowd until you someone bumped into you. The force was enough to make you lose your balance and bump into someone's back.

"Oh fuck, I'm so sor-" you began, only for the person to turn around and of course, it was Jungkook. Your stumble had caused his drink to spill on his shirt. Your words got stuck in your throat as you mentally cursed your luck. You and alcohol is a recipe for disaster. Just walk away. You tried to convince yourself, but the annoyed look on his face was keeping you tethered in your spot. All your guilt and hurt bubbled up to the surface of your skin. The thoughts and feelings you'd spent the last couple of hours repressing came rushing back, threatening to spill from your lips. After a moment of shock, you laughed at the irony of the situation. Jungkook's brows furrowed, realizing that you were already drunk. You grabbed a nearby napkin and started wiping at his shirt, not noticing how close you were getting to him. As you wiped at his shirt, you were dazed with emotion. Jungkook watched you curiously. Your movements slowed down as your thoughts consumed you.

"I-I'm sorry," you mumbled. But it dawned on you that Jungkook probably couldn't hear you in this crowd of people. Taking a deep breath and gathering all your courage, you looked up at him. "I'm sorry Jungkook. I'm really sorry," you repeated.

Although you hadn't said anything else, Jungkook understood what you meant; the heaviness of your words clear. You weren't just apologizing about his spilled drink. His expression softened a little, but he was still upset with you. A drunken apology, no matter how sincere, wasn't going to fix everything.

"Shit, I keep fucking up with you huh?" you laughed, the sound devoid of any humour. You held onto his shirt as you struggled to get on your tiptoes. "I really do have a knack for making your life harder." Jungkook held onto your arm, supporting you so you didn't fall over. Your breath hitched as you met his dark gaze. There was that look again - like he would eat you alive. Your breath hitched.

"You must really hate me," you said quietly, now close enough that he could hear you despite the noise that surrounded you. You could see the frustration and restraint painted across his face.

"Y/n, you're drunk," he pointed out, voice low. His grip on your arm tightened as you leaned in closer, your eyes flitting between his eyes and lips.

"Did you mean it? That you can't stop thinking about me?" You asked, your thoughts blurting out of your mouth before you could even think. Jungkook growled as you pressed your body to his. You were really testing his self control; every inch of his body itching to pull you into him.

"Y/n," he warned, his jaw clenching while he tried to put some space between you. But you refused to let him, leaning on him so heavily that if he moved, you'd probably fall over.

"I think you're lying. You look at me with so much anger, so much hatred," you scoffed. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as you spoke, fighting the urge grab you and shut you up.

"That's why you won't kiss me, right?" you asked, voice shaky as the words finally left your lips. Jungkook was taken aback by your question, his brows furrowing even deeper. "You touch me, everywhere..." you whispered, "...but you won't kiss me. Because you can't stand the thought, you can't enjoy kissing someone you don't like, right?" You felt unbearably vulnerable as the questions lingered in the air. A few seconds passed as Jungkook scanned your face, the gears of his own mind turning. But he didn't answer you. The silence only confirmed your thoughts. Your stomach dropped as realization hit you and you knew that if you stayed any longer, you wouldn't be stay composed. You felt embarrassed and hurt enough as it was; you didn't need to humiliate yourself any further. You slowly let go of his shirt, pushing away from him, spinning on your heels, and heading to the bathroom.

The cold water against your skin did nothing to cool you down. Looking up in the mirror, you were met with your own flustered reflection. Was it the alcohol, Jimin’s kiss, or Jungkook’s lack there of that left you so heated? You didn’t know. You hated that you’d let Jungkook see you in such a weak moment. You and alcohol were a bad mix. Why did you even care if he didn’t kiss you? What would a kiss change anyways? The only thing you liked about him was how he handled you and your body. Kissing him meant nothing. At least that’s what you told yourself as you tried to pull yourself together before walking out of the bathroom. But the moment you stepped out, you were greeted with the sight of some girl pressed up against Jungkook. Your stomach churned at the sight, feeling like you'd been punched in the gut. After baring your hurt to him, this felt ten times worse. He really didn’t care about you or your feelings. You weren’t special; he just enjoyed messing with you, like every other girl he flirted with. How could he say all those things to you - confess that you had some effect on him - and then do this? As Jungkook briefly looked up from the girl who now had her arms looped around his neck, his eyes met yours. He shifted slightly, trying to step away from the girl as he saw the look on your face. You couldn’t stand there a moment longer, immediately rushing back over to Jimin. Before Jimin could even ask what was wrong, you were ordering shots. He quietly observed you downing your shots. With the frustration that was painted across your face, he could only assume this had something to do with Jungkook. One quick glance over to Jungkook, and he was sure; he was already staring in your direction. Jimin sighed softly. He didn't necessarily want to get between the two of you, but if Jungkook was causing you this much distress then maybe he should.

"You okay?" he finally spoke, placing a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to look at him as he polished off the rest of his own drink. You couldn't really tell if you were nodding or shaking your head no, but he must've seen the slight distress on your face because his eyes softened. He pulled you closer, turning you around before lifting you onto his lap. You were too hazy to protest as his chest pressed against your back.

"Jimin," you murmured, "I need a distraction."

"What kind of distraction sweetheart?" Your heart fluttered at the nickname.

"Anything." He leaned down, his breath hitting your neck as he moved your hair to the other side. He hummed against your skin, lips pressing gently against your pulse. The small gesture made your crane your neck the other way, your heartbeat racing more as your worried about whether he could feel it or not.

"This work?" he asked, biting at the skin before kissing it harder.

"Yeah," you replied shakily. Jimin's hands made their way to your hips, holding you firmly against himself. Your eyes closed while Jimin continued kissing your neck, his tongue now laving softly over the contrastingly sharp bites he was leaving. Yep, that was a pretty effective distraction. Before you knew it, your chest was heaving as your breathing became laboured. Jimin's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. But you loved the proximity. It was intoxicating, yet comforting. He made you feel wanted which was something that Jungkook didn't do. Your body was quickly reacting to his touch, heat already pooling between your legs. You shifted slightly - only to feel Jimin's growing erection rub against you. Both of you groaned at the feeling. Jimin's lips moved to your ear, nipping at the lobe. In this position, you could hear his heavy breathing as you subconsciously continued shifting in his lap. Amidst such a good moment, you made the mistake of opening your eyes - only to meet Jungkook's gaze from across the bar. He was far away enough (and you were tipsy enough) that you couldn't make out his exact expression. But the fact that he was watching you was enough to unnerve you. You craned your neck to turn away, pulling away from Jimin with the motion as well. Jimin didn't even have to ask what happened as he caught Jungkook's stare too. A flash of irritation passed through him as Jungkook continued ruining your mood. But he brushed it off quickly, not wanting to upset you further. He held your chin, turning you to face him.

"You wanna get out of here?" he offered, mostly just wanting to get you away from Jungkook. A sense of guilt washed over you as Jimin treated you so sweetly. It wasn't that you didn't like Jimin, and you certainly found him incredibly attractive, but you felt like you were using him to get over Jungkook in a sense. You knew that this probably wouldn't be happening if everything between you and Jungkook hadn't happened. And you weren't sure you wanted anything more from Jimin anyways. Jimin was too kind for you to lead him on and use him like this.

"I-I do," you began, your voice heavy with guilt. "But I don't want to hurt you." Jimin gave you a look of confusion.

"Hurt me?"

"This...this is just a distraction for me." You winced as the words left your lips, feeling worse about yourself. "You're just a distraction." Jimin paused for a moment, but then his lips curled into a soft smirk.

"I'm okay with that. I can be your distraction," he whispered huskily. Your eyes immediately clouded with lust as he washed away all your guilt with two simple sentences. Suddenly, Jungkook was gone from your mind. You grabbed Jimin's hand, sliding off his lap, before dragging him up. He laughed at your enthusiasm, standing up but staying put in the spot.

"Let me settle our bill sweetheart," he chuckled, calling the server over and dropping some cash off with her. The second he paid, you were dragging him out of the bar.

Within thirty minutes, Jimin was struggling to open your apartment door while you messily kissed his neck, your hands roaming over his body. The second he got you through the door, he pinned you against the door and caught your lips in a hungry kiss. His own hands moved from cupping your face to sliding along your silhouette, appreciating your curves under his touch. The alcohol was catching up to you, making your movement sloppy now. But Jimin didn't mind, his own drunken mind loving the desperation in your touch. You slid your hand between your bodies, hastily rubbing his clothed cock.

"Y/n, fuck," Jimin groaned, struggling to contain himself. You took the opportunity to deepen your kiss, letting your tongue battle with his. Jimin huffed, matching your vigour, before grabbing your mischievous hands and looping them around his neck. His hands slid to your ass as he guided you towards the couch, not breaking the kiss for a second. When the back of your knees hit the couch, you tossed your bag on the coffee table. Some of your belongings fell out - including your phone - but you were too far gone to notice or care. Jimin lay you down on the couch, crawling on top of you immediately so as to keep kissing you. You groaned into the heat of his mouth. Your body felt like it was on fire as he pinched one of your excited nipples. When you finally ran out of breath, that was when he broke the kiss.

"Jimin, more. Want more," you mumbled, hastily trying to unbutton his shirt. He chuckled as you struggled with the small buttons. He held your hands to his chest, taking a moment to calm both of you down.

"Patience Y/n. We're not in a rush," he kissed the words into your neck. "We have all night," he whispered, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled away to look down at you, admiring your fucked out state. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded as you looked up at him, and you were biting your lips in an effort to control yourself. The sight made him impossibly hard.

"I'll be the best distraction you could ever have," he spoke softly; but the tone of his voice was so alluring, you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation. And then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The vibrations against the glass were enough to draw Jimin's attention, while you returned to unbuttoning his shirt. Jungkook's name was plastered on the screen. Of course it was him.

Jungkook was still at the bar - now standing right outside for some fresh air. He was dealing with his own conflicting emotions. He was seething when he saw you in Jimin's lap, watching him kiss your neck. The way you were so docile in his hold, just letting him touch and kiss you, it made his skin crawl. Why were you so resistant to him, but so receptive to Jimin? You were meant to be his - his toy alone. He had half the mind to walk over there and yank you off Jimin's lap. But at that point, none of your coworkers had noticed the two of you yet. He didn't want to make a scene and embarrass all three of you; he couldn't afford any more workplace rumours. On top of that, he couldn't get your question out of his head: why hadn't he kissed you? Unable to bear watching the scene before him any longer, he turned away and focused on drowning his thoughts away with drinks. When he looked back, you were gone. His mind immediately flooded with all the scenarios you could be in. Were you with Jimin? He shook his head clear of his suspicions. What did he care? You were a grown adult, capable of taking care of yourself and making your own decisions. He continued drinking, but he couldn't shake off his anger and confusion. After a few drinks, his self restraint was slipping and he stepped out for some fresh air to calm down. But he found himself reaching for his phone and calling you. Why was he calling you? To check up on you? Make sure you were safe, find out where you were so he could come to you, or question you about Jimin? He didn't know as he stood there, watching his breath form clouds in front of him as the phone rang.

Jimin stared at Jungkook's name on your phone and grunted in annoyance. Even when he wasn't physically present, Jungkook managed to get in his way every time. At least this once, couldn't that man leave you two alone? Then a thought crossed his mind - a way to get Jungkook to leave you alone for tonight. Noticing the irritation on Jimin's face, you went to turn and look at your phone, curious to see what was bugging him. But Jimin stopped you, quickly cupped your face with one hand and crashing his lips to yours - effectively making you forget all about your phone. Meanwhile, his other hand slid over to your phone and swiped to answer Jungkook's call.

"Tell me what you want Y/n," he demanded between breaths as he purposefully kissed you sloppily. You moaned softly against his lips as the lewd sounds of your kissing filled your ears.

"Want you, Jimin," you groaned. You pulled at his collar, trying to get him closer.

"Yeah?" he prompted you further, his fingers pinching at your already hardened nipples to provoke you further. You gasped, moaning his name as your back arching into his touch.

"Want you to touch me, wanna taste you, wanna feel you," you rambled. "Want you to keep kissing me," you admitted with a sigh. Jimin's body was reacting your words too, his hips already grinding into you. He hummed with satisfaction, peeking over at your phone. There was still silence from the other end, and he felt his pride swell as he watched the call end. Jungkook wouldn't be bothering you tonight.

another note: HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS! i finally go this goddamn chapter out! I am truly so sorry it took me this long. but i was actually crashing out from life and THEN tumblr fucked me over and didn't save my draft for this chapter TT i literally had to take a break from the app i was so annoyed. it took me forever to rewrite this. to everyone who asked how I was doing and checked up on me, thank you <3 you guys are the sweetest and I am doing much better now! as for the story, was the plot twist what you expected? how're we feeling about reader and Jungkook right now? the tension continues to tension... while i'm decently satisfied with this chapter, i might have to take a break from Dissonance for a bit. i have a lot of other stories i want to write (specifically Love and Deepspace ones lmfao) and Dissonance is taking up a lot of my time right now. I swear I'll still be working on it, just expect some other works to be released before D4. thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you for enjoying my work :)

side side note: if y'all have any ideas for D4, or requests for new fics as well, please let me know! i already have noona x jk in the works lol.

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tag list: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016 @joonwater @jeonzll @hagridshaircare @user-190811 @praetae @llallaaa @chimchoom @persona3012 @softhaes @darkangelfei

[kroosluvr]

aftermath

ERMMM this takes place after long winter au third semester.... it could honestly vary but i think sometime btwn 5-10 yrs. sumire is abroad, akira moved back to tokyo after finishing hs/college, goro is. around

SORRY ITS 5am again so ill make this quick . again

QUICK DISCLAIMER this is kinda like a lot of me projecting LMFAOSDOGKJSDHFK@#)40 so like dont read into this tooooo much bc idk royaltrio cld be insnanely ooc here but. YEA.

started thinking abt akira constantly calling up goro and sumire even after 1) goro dies (so they think) and 2) sumire distances herself post-third sem. i elaborate on this on my shusumi fic........ sorry subtle shilling

^ tldr i think these 3 kinda drift apart after the snowglobe world crumbles, that false reality that ironically brought them so close together..... back in reality, things feel Different (but this is Our reality right? why does it feel so strange now?) and so. well its just not the same, no amtter what

the. the “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there” tumblr post

even though they loved each other and knew it too, there was also some sort of looming feeling that it won't last - but it does, still. it exists, in some meaningful sense-

akira sees and thinks about sumire and goro in everything he does, his day to day life, worries about them, wants to tell them about all he's doing, wants to hear about what they're up to. so he does so by leaving voicemails (although in this case sumire changed her number LMFAO. he does it anyway)

in the same vein, sumire thinks about all the things she'd like to tell goro, but with no address to send it to, it's useless. but she writes them anyway - more and more as a solace to herself, conversing with the memory of goro in her head, making him live on in that sense. and with akira i think it's a little more subtle. here she's trying to find a coffee shop that measures up to lebalnc, and of course she doesn't. there's only one leblanc and only one akira. but yeah like in sumire's case she kinda goes these "roundabout" ways in her Missing Them. theres also the added thing of her wanting to be more independent (from goro and akira and kasumi and tokyo and etc etc etc. also elaborated on in said fic)

goro! i think there's smth so poignant about visiting your own grave (i wrote sumire doing htis in another fic. thats an aside) hair cut, mask on, no gloves, he's a different sort of goro akechi but not really in any meaningful sense either. he's just different. sumire leaves the scarf (i think w sumire, she learns from goro like. omg im blanking on the word. LIKE reliability..? thinking realistically? smth like that.) so shes subconsciously thinks oh ill get him something useful like a scarf to keep warm (and a lil more subtle on the love aspect). akira gets him a lovely bouquet, straightforward and honest w his love/adoration, never afraid to spell it out. smth abt goro needing to live a new life now but also he keeps looking back - but this time, there's love when he looks back. there's still love

a kind of "youll always have home with me" sentiment btwn these 3. even if we never return there, youll still have a place in my heart

like "i dont think ill ever have that kind of love again. but i had it once. and even if i couldnt keep it, its still important." THIS IS HARD TO EXPLAIN

anyway tldr theres just some sentiment w royaltrio w Wanting to move on but also holding onto your past, and learning how to reconcile with the horrible parts but also the tender and lovely parts. sometimes there's stuff you gotta leave behind and grow past, grow around, even if it's good. even if it's good, you still have to push forward. <- a lesson that i'm trying to teach myself currently so thats why this is very. projecting. LMFAODSJKHJKSDKW sorry im crnge goodnight

these notes are horrible dont read these.

[luvmanifesting]

im gone for so many months after shifting 💀 and i got “debunked” yeah so imagine trying to debunk me and end up being so completely wrong that i had to sit back and laugh for a solid 5 minutes at the straight stupidity i’ve read from your post @debunkingidiots . i do appreciate that you had the time TO make a post out of “debunking” me just to end up wrong. it meant you had the time to think of me how flattering. if you’re gonna debunk someone do it right, if i recall doesn’t debunking have to include solid pieces of evidence? like down from pictures and messages and screenshots? how’re you a complete debunking page and can barely do your job, the only thing you’ve debunked is whoever that star account was. fun fact theres NOTHING to debunk about me because i haven’t lied!!! :3 you only took a screenshot of me correcting someone and then you went to claim it immediately as me “lying” and then gifted me “best liar reward” how DELUSIONAL and STUPID can you be. you can actually just reward me for being such a master at manifesting + always getting what i want. i think that fits me better than you just randomly coming out the blue to assume i’m a liar. if your whole account runs solely on exposing “liars” i fear you’re just..bored with your life.

next topic @fairykittiz8 or whoever the hell it was, its so funny you can claim to know me, none of my friends use tumblr.. or KNOW i use tumblr? so claiming to know me is a HEAVY reach. + if you had the password to my account you would’ve still be interacting with the followers i have on my account. don’t use my name in your posts like EVER again.

and to the overly “woke” people typing styles do NOT mean someone is someone else, nobody owns a typing style? (i mean unless you assume that you own one idc)

if you want to know how to actually CATCH a liar @debunkingidiots i recommend you check out @themoonlightbabyy they can CLEARLY do their job better than you it seems💀 and whats also funny @debunkingidiots is how people can find evidence that someone is lying WAYYY before you can..kind of defeats the whole purpose of being a debunking page if you rely on other people to do your job.. “if you suspect someone let me know” - famous words from a “debunking” page, LMFAO you’re the one who’s supposed to be suspecting people.. not..anonymous people?

and before you still try to get on me “lying” (which i know you’re gonna try to use my permashifting information as an example because you’re so “smart” ) yes, i did state i would erase my memory of this reality and everything about it but in my last post i made about it which was my leaving post. i said i added more things and i also did adjust more things. which was removing the memory removal. i wanted to keep it incase i came back. do your studying on permashifting before you also try to come on my back about it, there are PLENTY of permashifting people who came back. + whoever commented about me being inconsistent about having unlimited money clearly do not understand the concepts of unlimited. ill just dumb it out for you and explain it just a little. ME having unlimited money does NOT mean it’ll stay at 9 trillion all damn day (unless ofc i assume) what i MEANT by unlimited is it not running out. clearly i have to be more specific when stating a specific desire because lack of comprehension still exists.

i hope you enjoyed your few minutes of fame in this post! @debunkingidiots . oh and i’ll definitely be wiping my tears with my snow leopard and my money :3

don’t become a debunking page if you can’t do your “job” correctly and don’t debunk me after i leave💀 you might as well assume every new blogger is me atp i love that you’re obsessed with me.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐑𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: Chan came back to Australia for his vacation and he's spending all his time with you. After a cute date he planned at the lake, the two of you went to his place.

Warning: Smut🔞 Explicit content. Oral (both f & m receiving), doggy, fingering [Chan makes the reader touch herself],unprotected sex, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, size kink(?), name calling (slut) and pet names (baby, sweetheart).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: This my second Chan smut draft I wrote and published on Wattpad 2 months ago. (It didn't do well xD), so I rewrote it and added a few more things.

(I require a tank of holy water after this LMFAO)

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 4.7k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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Chan was back home to Australia for his vacation and ever since he returned, he has been spending a lot of time with you, his long distant girlfriend.

The two of you always caught up over Facetimes and calls, but having him back home feels so good for both you and him. Chan missed you so much that he wanted to make up for all the lost time.

From early morning walks along the beach to late-night drives under the starry sky, every moment felt like a dream come true. You both explored your favourite spots, revisiting old memories and creating new ones. There was something magical about being physically together, holding hands, and sharing laughter without a screen in between.

After the best date ever, watching the sunset while he played the guitar for you alongside the lake, the spot where the two of you had your first date, Chan took you back to his place to spend the night with him.

Which of course you agreed.

The two of you binged horror K-Dramas the whole time but mostly just Chan stealing moments when a zombie was chasing a group of students or when it jumped on the screen. You missed half of the best parts because Chan wouldn't stop kissing you or putting his hand up your T-shirt, cupping your boobs.

You were more than thankful that his parents were out of town for 2 days. If they catch the two of you in their living room, seeing their son putting his hand up his girlfriend's shirt without a worry in the world, you'd bury yourself alive 6 feet below the ground.

And it's not like you haven't met Chan's parents before. Back when you started first dating and Chan introduced you to his mom and dad, they were thrilled. They loved you so much and treated you like their own daughter. Daughter in law soon according to Chan's dad. He never fails to keep saying that, it makes your cheeks flush everytime.

The two of you were in Chan's living room, the latest horror K-Drama playing on the TV. Your eyes were fully paying attention on the screen, but Chan wasn't interested at all. What was going on in his head was to kiss and make out with you. If possible to just fuck you right here on the couch while the K-Drama played.

But that will be a bad idea since his sister or brother could walk through the front door at any moment.

"Why do you like to horror stuff if the tiniest thing scares the hell out of you?" Chan asked with his brows furrowed as you flinched hard when monster came out of no where.

"It's not for the enjoyment, it's for the adrenaline rush" You cupped his cheeks with both your hands making him pout causing a burst of laughter to escape from your lips.

You should do that more often.

"I don't get what goes in your mind love. But as long as you are happy" He scooped his hand around your waist, his hand inside your shirt, pulling you closer, burying his face in your neck and shoulder.

You have to admit, you loved the way he's clingy with you more than the K-Drama playing on the TV or any damn thing in the world.

I mean how could you not?

"Baby..." Chan hummed in your neck that caused you giggle, it was one of your tickles spots.

"What do you want Channie?" You cooed. Of course you know what he wants but seeing him beg for your attention made you feel so satisfied.

Chan kissed and sucked on your neck in response, it caused you to inhale a long breath. Your fingers ran through his hair as he continued kissing your neck, his grip slowly tightening on your waist, stroking his thumb on your skin.

You finally gave in for what he's been trying since the time I came to his place, switching off the TV and turning your head towards him. Chan grinned mischievously, planting his lips on yours with a soft, sweet kiss, tilting your head demanding more access, swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips.

You slowly got up and sat on his lap as you kissed, straddling him, you could feel a buldge beneath you.

"You naughty boy," You said pulling away, Chan was hard already and it send rush of pride through you seeing how much he desires you.

"FYI, you're straddling me. Of course I'm hard" Chan taunted, but his voice remained soft. You chuckled as you palmed his cock through his shorts. He hummed in approval.

You continued palming him and softly pressing, going closer to his face and planting a series of pecks on his lips.

"Can we go to your bedroom pretty please?" You asked cutely and Chan couldn't help but grin mischievously.

He wrapped your legs around his waist and rose from the couch, carrying you upstairs to his bedroom. His mouth was on yours as he climbed up the stairs, not breaking it till he reached the door to his room. He put you down, the two of you walked inside and he flicked on the light switch.

Just like how it always looked, a full sized bed stood in the middle of the room, with its grey sheets neatly tucked in. A lone nightstand with clean lines sat beside it, holding only a minimalist lamp. His sliding door wardrobe stood at the corner of the room, with another closed door leading to an attached bathroom, the desk occupied nothing but his familiar grey laptop and a pair of high quality headphones.

Chan dimmed the lights of his room with a remote controller, the already dark room thanks to his grey bed and furniture became more darker, as shadows danced across the walls like silent phantoms. With the heavily dim lights and the moonlight shining through his windows, the ambience felt more even more intimate.

Fluffy moments with Chan like little dates and sharing selfies through texting were polar opposite compared to when Chan was in the bedroom. To his friends and his parents you're his loving girlfriend but when you were alone, you were his fuck doll.

Not that you didn't like it when he fills you up.

Locking the door, he stepped towards you slowly and gracefully like a majestic wolf, pulling his black T-shirt over his head with one hand and throwing it at his chair, revealing his defined body.

Broad shoulders, muscled chest, powerful biceps and chiseled abs any man could envy. The faint sheen of sweat glistened, accentuating the contours.

You stood where you were without making a move, moisture flooding between your legs, staining you underwear as he got closer. How could his bare chest make you so wet already?

Chan was standing just an inch or two in front of you, your chest rose and fell, when you looked at him, his eyes were already on you, a lethal smirk played across his face with his head tilting to the side. Without a warning he traced his hand over you breasts, goosebumps spread across your body in a frantic rush as you shivered against his touch.

You were crazily turned on now.

He closed his hand over your neck, not tight enough to choke but enough to turn you on even more. His eyes were burning, a wild beast was lying within them, he did the triangle look before crushing his mouth onto yours. Your teeth crashed with your tongues devouring, desiring each other.

He squeezed your ass making a moan escaped from your mouth to his, you held onto his biceps pulling him closer, needing him. Wanting him.

Chan pulled apart, his hand letting go of your neck and taking one step back,

"Off," He comanded gesturing at your shirt and pants. Without protesting, you removed your clothes.

You wearing nothing but your lace bra and panties, Chan was in his black shorts, you glanced at his cock huge and hard underneath the fabric, your face flushed in heat.

Chan was a huggable teddy bear when he wore his usual black hoodie and shorts, but underneath those said hoodie and shorts was a buff, muscular body, sculpted by the Gods themselves. You could taste the heat of his skin radiating off his bare torso as he stood towering you.

Chan pinched your nipple through your lace bra, with his other hand he unclasped it, revealing your chest to his lustful eyes. He cupped a breast, rolling the hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger, your head fell back, teeth digging your lower lip and your whimpers already started filling the air.

You hated yet loved it when he teased before you both started.

Twisting the lace band of the panties with one finger and sliding it down, Chan circled his thumb over your clit and thrusted his middle finger through your drenched folds, you jerked and hissed as your core clenched.

"You are so wet for me sweetheart"

"Please" You begged shamelessly.

This wasn't enough. You wanted more.

"You are so needy my love" Chan chuckled as he inserted another finger inside you.

"Chan, I swear" Your nails scarred his biceps.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel really good. But since you kept rejecting me back in the living room, you'll get my cock later"

Was the last thing he said before he yanked out his fingers and licked away your juices moaning at the pleasure of tasting it.

"On your knees." He commanded and you sank on the floor before you could respond.

"Touch yourself" Chan ordered. Your eyes widened at him almost popping out of your sockets, but he knows what he said.

"What?" You whispered, your voice was barely audible. All the nights when you fingered yourself and used toys thinking of Chan while you stayed in Australia and he was in South Korea crashed in your head.

"You heard me. Touch yourself. I want to see what you've been doing when I was away" Chan's voice was coated with dominance, thick and rough as a cocky smirk spread across his face.

A deep blush bloomed on your cheeks, but you knew better than to decline him. You were too turned on and needed his cock so badly, if this is what's going to make you get it, then you'd oblige him.

Without another word coming out of you, you caressed your breasts, pinching and squeezing your nipples before one hand went down you stomach and slid between your legs.

Soon, you were whimpering with pleasure, circling your clit and fingered yourself as Chan watched you with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

He was controlling himself, as much as he wanted to rub his rock hard cock at the sight in front of him. It was one second away from making a hole and breaking free from his shorts.

Chan got reminded on how he stoked and rubbed himself when he missed you, he couldn't wait to feel your needy pussy and mouth around his cock.

"This is what you've been doing hmm?" He asked silkily. "You dirty slut. Thinking of me while you finger fucked yourself?"

You whimpered as your fingers worked faster at his filthy words, kneeling on the floor and your thighs trembled. "Y-yes" You said. Your mouth hung open and breaths turning slow.

Chan stepped towards you kneeling at him, grasping your chin and making you meet his gaze. You looked up at him who was looking at you as if he wanted to eat and fuck the braincells out of you.

"My girl has missed me so much hasn't she?" Your chin was still under his grip, Chan pulled his shorts and boxers down, freeing himself from the walls of the fabric, his huge, long hard cock sprung out, hitting your cheek.

You moaned, needing him. He was right here, there was no need for you to use your fingers, but Chan was too much of a tease, he will drag this night out as long as wants.

He grazed the tip on your lips, you looked up at him with a wide smirk playing across you face as you immediately stacked your other hand on his impressive shaft and swirled your tongue around the pre cum leaking head. You lapped them away as you began stoking his cock slowly at the same time pumping in and out of your cunt.

It felt like a literal scene out of a porn video.

Now Chan was the one who groaned, his head fell back biting the bottom lip when you hadn't even taken him in yet and you liked it when you took control at least for a few seconds.

One more languid swirl around the tip, a few strokes on his shaft and your thumb on the tip, you took him in slowly. You started bobbing your head up and down, licking and sucking, pressing your tongue on the underside of his cock and adjusting to his length.

Chan's hand fisted your hair as his cock went much deeper down hitting the back of your throat causing you to choke. Your eyes watered as your gags kicked in, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth but you didn't stop. Your core was aching, taking Chan down your throat while you whimpered and worked on yourself.

"Fuck yes baby. Keep sucking my cock like a good girl" He growled, his voice was thick and heavy like the rumble of distant thunder.

Chan's hand fisted around your hair, guiding you up and down, flesh against flesh, he thrusted his veiny cock in and you sucked him out more in a sensual rhythm, the wet sloppy sounds of your blowjob filling the air of his room.

It was almost like Chan could sense you were about to come, but tonight he wanted all your orgasms to belong to him. He yanked his cock out of your mouth causing you to fall back on your butt, your hand still remained in your dripping cunt.

"You won't come until I say so," He said roughly and made you yank your hand out of you.

You groaned at the ruined orgasm but no matter how much your hands and toys have tried, they could never make you come the way Chan does.

You stood up on your knees again and took his cock back in, before he could respond, Chan's his head fell back, fingers snaking your hair. You stroked the skin above his dick, feeling the regrowing hair and sucked him out till you couldn't breath or see as tears gushed up your eyes.

Your hot mouth was wrapped around his velvet length, your jaw began aching but you were determined to feel every last inch of him.

"Oh yeah...Oh yeah baby"

With Chan's harsh breaths and your gurgles, Chan shooted his load down your throat, coming down in a loud groan, you swallowed every drop, your mouth was still wrapped around his cock.

Slick ropes of his cum painted your face down your chin and a few strings of saliva attaching from your lip on the tip as he pulled out, it was a mess. Oxygen frantically rushed into your lungs.

You wiped your chin and placed a sweet kiss on his mushroom tip. Chan looked down at you, his eyes hardening and smirking biting his bottom lip, GOD his dimple made your heart race and core ache insanely.

"You take in my cock so gorgeously my love. Now be a good little slut and get on the bed. Let me see how wet your little pussy is"

Every ounce of sanity and self respect leaves your body when he commands and orders your around in the bedroom, when he takes full control over your mind, body and soul.

You got on the bed like he said, in a position where you were bare to him, the mattress sank as he got on, holding you between his knees and pinning your wrists above your head.

He bit your bottom lip in a hard kiss and smirking against it, Chan pulled out a silk pink ribbon from God knows where and tied your wrists together in a very tight knot, making it impossible for you to move.

"Chan," You whimpered. You didn't care where the hell he got that ribbon from.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take my sweetest time with you baby"

The sound of his husky voice sent waves of arousal rush through your body as he lifted your leg, starting his way kissing from your thigh till he reached your hot dripping core. The gorgeously wet sight infront of him made Chan feel like he took a shot of heroin.

He layed a kitten kiss on your swollen nub as the scent of your arousal washed over him, Chan slowly flattened his tongue against your clit, drawing it in and sucked like a possessed man.

You frantically writhed and bucked your hips with your wrists tied above your head but Chan held you with his fingers pressed on your thighs. Your moans and whimpers were uncontrollable as he ate you out, making the phrase 'eating me alive' come to life.

"Fuck baby. You taste so good. I missed it tons"

"Cha- Chan-" You were panting out of breath. He removed his tongue from your heat after minutes of sucking, feasting and lapping away your juices. He slid his tongue again against your slit and pushed two fingers, knuckles deep in, stretching you out.

You moaned so loudly, desperately arching your back as the cold metal of his silver bracelet on his wrist touched your bare skin sending electric shivers and blood rush like a tsunami through your body.

Chan pumped his fingers in and out, sucking on your clit again and then made his way up your stomach trailing kisses and more upwards towards your breasts.

He clenched an erected tip—that were hard enough to slice crystals—between his teeth and sucked on your nipples, one after another, releasing it with an audible pop and coolly blew on the nub glistening in his saliva.

Chan met your eyes before crushing his mouth on yours hungrily with his stiff arm next to your head holding him up while the other one's fingers were diving inside you. Veins mapped his arm like lightning bolts frozen in mid-strike.

"Do you like this baby hmm? Do you feel good?" Your lungs couldn't get enough air for you to respond other than a noisy moan of his name.

"That's right. Keep moaning my name sweetheart. It's my favourite sound"

"Fuck—Chan wait, Chan—" He slid his fingers from your wet folds and before you knew, the building orgasm gushed out as you came all over his fingers with your back arching.

You squealed and moaned heavily as Chan hissed since you came before he said you could, his hand roughly smacked against your splurting cunt.

Pain was mixed with pleasure at the impact of Chan's hand on your swollen pussy, it was impossible to register on what comes first.

"I should punish you for that now shouldn't I?" He cooed but his voice was thick like gravel, another smack on your cunt.

"No please I— I'm sorry" You whimpered, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tried to untangle your wrists but the knot didn't budge.

A third smack and your eyes flew open as Chan laughed sadistically at your whimpers. He chuckled and then reached to his night stand, opening his drawer and grabbing a box of condoms that were waiting for him.

He held the golden foil between his teeth before you shook your head and pulled the condom out of his teeth with your mouth since your hands were still tied above you.

"No," You said breathlessly moaning. "You can go raw,"

You wanted to feel his veiny thick cock twich and thrust inside you without feeling some rubber barrier block it.

"Are you sure you want that baby?" Chan asked arching an eyebrow, letting out a deep chuckle and brushing away the hair that was stuck onto you sweat slicked forehead. You nodded without a second thought.

"Yes, yes Chan" You said spreading you legs further, bucking your hip upwards as you began growing impatient. "I need you"

He chuckled again and didn't question your request, he'd love to fill his load in you, if possible to knock you up. But right now, he has enough kids.

Chan positioned himself between your legs and began teasing your entrance with his tip. He grazed it making you feel like he was going to enter but he didn't, your patience was getting lower and lower.

"Fuck me already Chan" You almost screamed, unable hold in your desire and needed to feel him fill you.

"So impatient. You want my cock to wreck this tight pussy that badly huh? Did you miss it that much baby?"

"Yes Chan, I missed you. I missed you fucking me"

Your dirty words drove Chan out of his mind. He leaned above your head and untied the ribbon, stroking the faint red marks that appeared as the ribbon had dug into your skin.

Chan swiftly spun you around and his erection dug onto your lower back. He firmly held your hips and slowly, inch by inch he began filling you with his huge length, a long moan escaping your throat.

At his moment you realized how much you had missed him. You were so tight and clenched his cock, Chan never felt this happy to return home. He hadn't fucked you in a year and yet your pussy knew as if it had a brain of its own to whom it belonged.

To Chan.

You were so wet that he entered without much resistance, but your body had to regrow to getting used to his size, so Chan moved slow until the initial discomfort was replaced with intense pleasure.

Chan's hand palmed your breast, pinching and playing with your nipple as he began thrusting, slowly first, then faster and harder, the intensity of his pace made your knees buckle.

"Ah Chan, oh God" You eyes rolled to the back of your head, mind clouding with lust and pleasure, mouth falling half open, as he fucked you ruthlessly.

It was Intense. Mind-blowing. Obsessed.

"You like that? Do you like that baby? Hmm? Tell me"

"Yes— yes, ah" The slick sounds along with your moans and whimpers poured out like a erotic symphony, Chan felt like it was the best melody his ears ever heard.

He loved the sound of your moans more than the thousand comeback tracks he has prepared on his laptop. He could listen to you like this all day, every day.

Your mind was too fogged with an extreme intensity of lust and pleasure, all you wanted was for Chan to keep pushing further and harder, until you felt like you were crashing off a cliff.

Your walls throbbed as he continued, Chan growled fisting your hair. A tingling pressure began threatening to break free again and if you didn't let go, you felt like you'd explode.

"Chan I'm— I'm going to come"

"Not so fast baby girl" He squeezed your breast causing you to arch your back. Your hands fisted the sheets till your knuckles turned white and your inner walls pulsated at the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Pleaseplease let me come, please" You cried and begged Chan, tears gushing out of your eyes, you were very close to breaking.

Chan loved ruining you, turning you into a pathetic moaning mess. You were the love of his life after all. But he loved it more when you reached your limit and begged him to have mercy on you.

After a few hard thrusts he hit your G-spot and before he or you could say a word, your orgasm ripped through you like category 5 hurricane followed by Chan who came right after you in a harsh groan and slowly pulled out.

A sharp cry escaped your throat as you plunged forward coming down shuddering, Chan witnessed a sticky mess of his cum seeping out of your fluttering hole mixing with your squirt, the sight sent him to the depths of insanity. Had Chan not held you, you would have collapsed on the floor.

It took you a full five minutes for your brain to process the aftermath of your comedown. You fell on the bed on your back, meeting Chan's eyes, who was watching you, holding an intensity that ignited a spark within you, radiating an intimacy that seemed to bridge the gap between your souls.

The two of you were in a complete mess. Sweat slicked and glistened on Chan's chiseled body, hair wet and tousled, catching for breaths while he looked at you with nothing but love filled in his eyes. The intoxicating scent of sweat and sex fogged the air.

Chan smiled at you, a smile that would make the brightest things in the world seem dull. Your eyes locked, leaving only the electric tension crackling between your intertwining fingers and the whispered promises hung in the air as he leaned down and took your lips in his.

Chan slowly fell next to you, his fingers rubbing your hair, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence. You pulled him closer and draping an arm and a leg over him, you'd just snuggle into his chest and listen to his heartbeat for the rest of your life if you could.

He pulled apart and brushed away a strand of hair behind your ear and placed a kiss on your forehead. No matter how much how much ecstatic sex you've had with Chan, you were a real sucker for his forehead kisses.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up sweetheart" He said as he scooped you off the bed and carried to the bathroom, where he again fingered you into another amazing orgasm and then finally ending the night.

After the shower, Chan quickly changed his sheets and gave you one of his oversized t-shirts and he changed into a comfortable pair of shorts.

His tee draped nicely over your body, it was slightly bigger than your usual baggy tees, falling up to your mid thigh. Chan's shirt felt so soft and warm, his strong cologne lingered from the fabric.

Turning off the lights, Chan and you settled in under the soft comforts, embracing each other in your arms, exhaustion and satisfaction lined on his face.

"Any plans for the coming weeks?" You asked while sliding your fingers through his hair.

"Felix will be joining us for dinner next week. My mom invited him" Chan replied smiling.

"That's nice, I hope you guys will have a good time" You smiled against the soft pillows and traced a finger across his jawline, leaning in and pressing your lips on his lips, melting into his taste.

Your chest was pressed against Chan's, the two of you cuddled and made out in silence for a while before a distant honk of a car cut it. You glanced at the window then back at him, his eyes were tired and sleepy, he was looking at you and blinking it away.

"Shh," You gently stroked your hand through his hair, slowly helping Chan drift into a good night's rest. His eyes shut as his breathing steadied and his muscles relaxed.

You smiled softly, knowing that tonight, at least, he would find some respite from his sleepless nights.

You knew how Chan struggled to sleep and you would do anything to help him find the most needed rest he deserves.

Chan's arms were wrapped around your waist, as he fell into a sound sleep, you didn't move not wanting to wake him up.

Resting your head onto his chest with your arm over him, palm pressed on his back, you closed your eyes with the tranquil sound of the quiet wind outside providing a soothing lullaby.

Underneath the soft embrace of the covers, you and Chan drifted into a peaceful slumber, cocooned in the serenade of the night with the moonlight shining through the window.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[hyuckhyukahansol]

Hold On, We're Going Home

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"you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.”

or

you're a popular soloist and your secret boyfriend is a kpop idol. when your Canadian tour dates line up, you both opt to stay at his parent's home in Vancouver, but even with his parents asleep downstairs, mark just can't seem to keep his hands off of you after your show.

tags -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  idol!mark, soloist!reader, fem!reader, reader is american, porn with minimal plot, established relationship, childhood room, twin bed, missionary, jealousy, possessiveness, praise AND degradation, mentions of reader being small, ATTEMPTED quiet sex, sacrilege if you squint (theres a jesus on his wall), size kink if u squint, marks parents are mentioned but theres no dialogue with them because im not writing that, reader has her drivers license, implied that reader is not christian, reader's love language is being mean to mark, EXTREMELY unserious

nicknames ┇ his babe yours princess!! baby... etc

date started┇march 20 2025

date posted ┇march 28 2025

wc ┇4.4k

A/Ns ┇ nothing like a good "lets fuck on my childhood bed!" 

room based on the mark's homecoming teasers for firstfruit.

umm mark probably doesnt have a childhood bedroom in canada because he was like 13 when he left for sm and also he lived in new york before that so lets just pretend for the sake of the fanfic that he does ok? ok! >_<

in section 2 i mention bible study as a way for me to skate around actually writing meeting marks parents LMFAOOO um im unsure if this is a popular thing everywhere else but like i know in the south at least its like youth group but for older people where they'll have a like mini religion discussion thing? i dont know i havent been to church in several years and i'm atheist 😭 iykyk i guess

reader's dialogue is based off of me and im a very strange fella and i cannot be serious for one single second so its kind of bad 😭

FINAL NOTE im completely a virgin like ive never even kissed anyone LMFAO so if the smut seems inaccurate at all thats on me because i refuse to let a real obtainable man get that close to me 😆

────────────

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

01. prologue

"no way our tour dates line up." 

you were in disbelief when your boyfriend called late at night to inform you that you would both be in the same city at the same time and that it just so happened to be where his parents lived: vancouver.

you were tucked under your warm, plush duvet with an unnecessary amount of pillows under your head and you groan as you sit up from them, cold air hitting your newly exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its chilly wake.

"i'm serious dude, the company usually lets me visit my family when we go for canadian stops. i could see if i can stay at my parent's house for longer.. and you could come with me.." mark's voice got higher as he started adding to the equation. "and maybe you can stay.. and meet some people.."

"you're saying you want me to meet your parents?" you reply blankly, holding in a laugh at your boyfriend's shyness about asking. you lean back in your bed, cotton fabric sighing with effort.

"see? that's my girl, i knew you'd get it." your face heats at his words.

"oh dude you're flirting..." you quote him, earning a sound of annoyance from the other end of the call. you snicker.

"you actually have to stop watching those fan compilations." you giggle at how easily it both annoys and embarrasses him that you keep up with what he does at work.

"okay, i'll stop watching fan compilations of you when you delete your folder of edits of me" you offer jokingly through your fit of laughter.

he scoffs "that's out of the question." 

"okay then i guess i get to keep watching videos of you goofing off at work." 

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

02. the twin bed

several months ago, your boyfriend had asked you to meet his parents in person. both of you living in seoul and being music artists meant that trips home were few and far between, so it made sense that mark would ask you to meet his parents in real life once the finally opportunity arose after two years of only seeing them in 2160p on a facetime screen. mark would've asked sooner if he weren't swamped with schedules — between three groups and solo activities, it was near impossible to find any amount of time to fly home, let alone with a secret girlfriend who's schedule was just as packed as his.

both of your tours had already started and you really hadn't seen much of each other since. you were grateful for the large amount of time you had in vancouver: about three nights of time together before you'd each have to take your separate flights to different cities for the rest of your respective tours. you had your show the first night of the three-day stay and his was the night directly after. 

mark had taken a plane with the rest of 127 and you opted to take a completely different flight; it wasn't worth the trouble of having to deal with both of your own saesangs on one flight as well as risking being caught. since mark's plane departed earlier than yours, he arrived at his parent's house much earlier than you, having already unpacked what he needed and started catching up with his folks when you rang the doorbell on the single-family home. as you were marveling at the normalcy of the house, your boyfriend swung the door open, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"did your staff already leave?" mark asked after surveying the street outside and not finding any cars. you turn and look back over your shoulder quickly even though you know you won't find a car there either.

"yeah, dropped me off and then sped away." you answer as you step inside. mark closes and locks the door behind you. 

"well, after she got out of the passenger seat because i begged her to let me drive-"

"you drove?" your boyfriend cut you off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised so high that his forehead was wrinkled.

"pfft, yeah?" you roll your eyes dramatically.

"i have my license and i'm a big girl. got here in one piece and everything." you reassure the man as he takes your suitcase and carryon from you.

"dude, you have an american drivers license."

"ooookay? it's basically the same! y'all drive on the right side of the road too.." you playfully push mark's shoulder, pouting as you continue.

"i never get to drive in korea. can't drive on the right there." you switch from a playful pout to a curious expression. "where are mother lee and father lee?" you ask, using your favorite nicknames that his parents thought were so endearing and silly. mark chuckles before answering.

"they're at wednesday bible study, so we have some time to unwind before you have to mingle with anyone other than me." mark explains, walking towards to stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. "my room is upstairs. it hasn't been redecorated since i was, like, 13." 

"oh, how fun." you joke, beginning to walk up the stairs with your boyfriend following behind you. "can't wait to see all the.. um.." after a long pause, you stop at the top of the stairs and turn to face him. "i can't finish my insult because i have no clue what little canadian boys like."

mark laughs and you're sure if his hands weren't full he would start hitting you in his fit of laughter like he usually does, but instead he hunches over a little at the joke before directing you to the last door on your right. 

the room is small and littered with old books, cd cases, and cassette tapes, all lined up haphazardly on painted wooden shelves that were much taller than you, the freshest layer of brown paint peeling in worn spots to reveal the previous paint job done in teal. in the left corner, against the flaky yellow wallpaper, sat a red guitar and in the right corner there was a boombox on a shelf above a bed. on the right wall was a crucifix and ivory jesus stared down at the bed below it with its mismatched plaid duvet and sheets and more pillows than any one boy needs, all with different pillowcases on them, one checkered blue, another white with blue stripes, the other two in solid teal and red. it was cozy, but something irked you and it wasn't the carpeted floor or the popcorn ceiling.

"you didn't tell me it was a twin bed?" you exclaim, turning to mark who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. he makes his way past you into the room, speaking as he sets your bags on the beg and sits next to them.

"yo, listen: you can have the bed to yourself and i can have the floor if it makes you feel better" mark offers, trying to soothe you. you're still stood in the doorway, leaning against it now.

"i dont want your funky ass twin bed? id rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor downstairs." you complain, frustrated at the entire situation. "I don't want to sleep without you but also I'm not sure we'll both fit comfortably." you express. your boyfriend looks at you funny. 

"are you serious?" he starts, getting up from the bed and walking towards you, stopping when he's stood just close enough that you have to look up to meet his eye. "there's definitely enough room. we'll just have to cuddle." he explains. you look up at him through long lashes and pout. 

"i'm starting to think the reason you didn't tell me is because you just wanted an excuse to hold me all night." you accuse. mark holds his hands up in a way that says 'you got me.'

"well, usually you complain that i'm too warm and you end up moving away from me after i fall asleep." mark admits with a slight frown, dropping his hands to his side in order to hang his shoulders in an attempt to sulk. he looks so cute when he pouts, large dark eyes shining at you with a hint of an apology for withholding information. you push yourself off of the door frame in favor of draping your arms on mark's shoulders, fingers touching around the back of his neck.

"okay, but you do get super warm and you know i run hot too." you defend yourself. mark pits his hands on either side of your waist and cracks a smirk and you know he's thinking of a terrible joke.

"yeah, super hot." 

"ew, that's so corny." you scrunch up your nose, making a disgusted face and he giggles, leaning in to pepper your cheek with kisses that you can feel the smile in.

"you're making me reconsider my option of sleeping alone." you threaten, but he only wraps his arms around you and holds you tight instead as if to say that there's no way you can back out of it now. you accept defeat.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

03. the concert

mark's parents were just as kind in person as they had been over video call. they just couldn't stop telling you how you were so much prettier in person and how proud they were that mark had found "such a nice young lady." you told them how lovely their home is and thanked them for letting you stay. the meeting was brief since you had to get to your venue for sound check and other preparations, so when your staff arrived to pick you up and whisk you away to your job, you apologized and swore that you would talk more the next day, assuming they probably wouldn't be awake by the time you got back.

sound check was smooth and you enjoyed seeing your fans for the 45 or so minutes it lasted. afterwards, you had your makeup and hair done and put on your first outfit. you made sure to take ample selfies so you could choose what to post after the concert, what to send to bubble now, and what to send to mark since you had down time. 

you: [image]

markus 😒😋: my gorgeous gorgeous girl

you grin at your phone, face heating to the point you start to fan yourself. you giggle at your own incoming joke as you look through your camera roll for a video to send to your boyfriend. the video is a clip his fans like to use of him with a blush filter on his face. (you know the one)

you: [video]

markus 😒😋: yeah ok im blocking you now

you: NOOOOO ☹️ 

markus😒😋: too late. need to start being nicer to your boyfriend

you: but youre so cute when youre annoyed..

markus😒😋: your fans are like really loud by the way

you: ???

markus😒😋: [2 images]

markus😒😋: your number 1 fan

the images mark sends you are one of the stage you're supposed to be on in about an hour and the other is selfie of him, mask hat, and glasses on, in a seat at your venue.

you'd attended each other's concerts before and it certainly wasn't a secret to either of your fans that the two of you knew each other, having done challenges, tiktoks, and other collabs together, but it still would give you butterflies when he would show up to a concert. 

you: 🥹 i told you if you would tell me beforehand that you were coming then you wouldn't have to actually buy tickets

markus 😒😋: its no fun when you know already!!! 

you: next time get floor tickets so i can have eye candy in the crowd

markus 😒😋: yes ma'am 🫡

the concert went super well. you were on time and your mic was loud enough for once and your costume wasn't itchy and your boyfriend was in the crowd. you were sure multistans had already spotted him there and you hoped that he was having a good time and that everyone was leaving him alone.

during the section of the concert where you walk around and sing into a handheld mic and do fan service, you spot a particularly funny sign. the sign, which was decked out in glittery letters and lots of hearts read: "y/n let me get that nda"

you double over in laughter as the back track plays without main vocals before continuing singing, going over to the fanboy holding the sign and taking his phone to record with it. the fan all but faints when you hand his phone back and blow him a kiss. when the song ends you talk for a bit about your tour so far and read other signs, flirting with your fans (as one does) and drinking water to soothe your throat. you don't particularly even think about what you're doing as you interact with the crowd, simply happy to see them smile.

the rest of your concert goes smoothly and you stay for around 30 minutes after everyone clears out in order to help your staff pack equipment and to make sure you didn't forget anything personal at backstage. when you're changed into a hoodie and some sweats and sitting in the passenger seat of your staff's car, you notice mark hasn't texted you, which is weird. mark always texts you after a concert even if you're going back to the same apartment. you assume maybe his phone died when you shoot him a "how was it?" text and he doesn't respond. you're really too exhausted to think of anything else as the road lulls you into a quick nap as you're driven to your boyfriend's parent's house.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

04. jealousy, jealousy 

mark's parents are asleep when you get back to their home, making for a silent house other than the whirring of the air conditioning and the click of you locking the front door. your boyfriend greets you as you walk through said door with a kiss on the cheek. you take in his already scruffy hair and pajama clad legs as well as the loose t-shirt he obviously just threw on.

"did your phone die?" you ask, worried as to why he didn't respond to you.

"yeah" he rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand "man, um, traffic was crazy, i only just got here and changed."

mark hasn't been this awkward with you since the first few months you started dating. there's obviously something bothering him but you really don't know how to ask, especially when it's so late and you're still tired despite your nap. 

"yeah, i didn't actually drive back so i was able to take a power nap through it." you reply. mark simply hums and turns around, walking to and up the stairs, abruptly deciding he's done with the conversation. you follow him, face twisted in mouth opened, furrowed-brow confusion whenever he had his back to you. mark lingers by the doorway in his room as you pass him to flop down dramatically on the bed, facing the wall, only bothering to kick off your shoes and socks. you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.

your boyfriend continues to kiss around your ear, moving now to your shoulder, each kiss messier and needier than the last. one of his hands moves to cup your breast while the other sits right below your belly button, tantalizingly close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in liquid form. his pinky dips under the waistband of your sweats and stays there as he toys with your nipple, pinching the bud with two fingers, eliciting a soft whine from you to which he hisses.

"have to be quiet, baby. be quiet for me? for me?" he repeats. you breathe out a shaky "ok" as you move your arm behind you in an attempt to feel up your boyfriend, petting his side.

mark snuggles closer and you can feel his erection against your ass as he continues to massage your breast. his other hand finally dives under the waistband of your sweats, middle finger finding your clit oh so easily as he begins to almost pet you, cupping your entire mound and rocking his hands against it, middle finger pressed ever so slightly between the lips and against your bundle of nerves. you try your best to keep your whines down, your once free hand now occupied with covering your mouth. you buck embarrassingly and helplessly against mark's hand.

"desperate, huh? that why you made a show of yourself?" he coos.

you nod. of course it wasn't the truth and you both knew that. you really still weren’t sure what you even did, but your mind was too hazy to do anything except play into his hands, literally and figuratively. 

mark begins to rub circles into your clit, using the friction from your panties to add to the sensation of it. you struggle to stay quiet and when you let a particularly obscene sound slip, your boyfriend groans, pulling away from you.

"sit up, baby." he commands as he gets off the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. he runs his palms up your clothed thighs when you turn to face him.

"take this off for me, princess?" he requests.

you oblige, lifting your hips to discard your sweats, deciding your hoodie is too much and discarding that as well. you don't know when mark removed his shirt, but between him locking the door and getting on his knees, it had been tossed to the opposite corner of the room, bunched up and barely visible from the moonlight filtering through the window. 

mark pushes your legs open and slots himself between them, kissing the inside of your thigh, face oh so close to exactly where you need him. you look down at him in awe. the way his messy brown hair falls into his prettily-pink tinged face and how absolutely drunken on you he looks when his gaze flicks up to you might be enough for you to cum on the spot. you're practically throbbing for him when he finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit. your breath hitches and you let out a soft whimper at the contact.

"you still haven't exactly told me what i did.." you remind mark as his thumbs hook under the hem of your underwear. they linger there for a moment while he answers.

“i think you know."

you lift your hips once again to allow mark and to slip your panties down and toss them somewhere in the room. the air is cool against the heat of your cunt and you fight the urge to close your legs to keep in the warmth.

"so fucking gorgeous." mark mutters before rolling his tongue against your clit. you let out a loud whimper and he shushes you gently but does nothing more to stop you when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit and coming off with an obscene pop that has you biting into the hand covering your mouth. he returns to it, making slow circles of it with his tongue while he inserts a finger into you, then two, pumping them in and out and curling them at an agonizingly slow place.

you whimper around your hand for a second before taking it slightly away from your mouth.

"i s-seriously don't know— hah— w-what i did, babe." you manage to get out.

mark pulls his face away from your heat, replacing his tongue with his thumb, increasing to a medium pace.

"touched other people. laughed at their jokes. just missed you so bad, princess. wished it was me.” he melts into the side of your thigh, looking up at you as he answers before focusing intently on the way his fingers move against you. the sound of his fingers inside of you fills the room with nasty squelching. his free hand has been rubbing circles into the outside of your thigh this whole time and you attempt to grab it to hold his hand when he finally speeds up a third time, going a pace that you can finally feel your orgasm building with. he swats your hand away.

"think you deserve it?" he asks

"m'sorry." you reply, opting to place the hand on his sheets instead. you can finally feel your release building and your moans get harder and harder to contain behind your hand.

"mark m'gonna cum, please" you plead with him. for what, you're not sure. 

"that's it, good girl." he coos "let it all out, princess." 

his praise is just enough to make you topple over the edge of pleasure, orgasm washing over you in waves as you let out a silent cry. mark finger-fucks you through it, not bothering to stop even when your thighs threaten to crush his head or your foot hits his back, before slowing and then finally pulling his fingers away once your clenching ceases, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean whilst you catch your breath. 

"lay down, if i don't fuck your brains out right now i'm seriously gonna lose it." your eyes widen as you reposition yourself so that you're laying on your back while mark discards his pants and underwear. he crawls over you, holding himself up on one forearm as you start making out, tongues melding against each other. he breaks from the kiss to lean back and put one of your legs over his broad shoulder. he teases you, rubbing the tip of his fat cock against your still-sensitive clit.

"nobody else can do this but me right, princess?" he asks and you can hear his breath hitch as he continues to rock himself against you. you shake your head in response.

"need it so bad mark." you plead with him, tired of the teasing and the empty feeling in your core.

mark lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, coupled with quiet groans. the stretch is something you're never used to no matter how many times the two of you fuck; the way he fills you is delicious.

he pauses when he's fully inside you, leaning over you, causing the leg on his shoulder to fold back on you. he kisses your neck and jaw and nibbles at your ear he pulls out until just the tip remains and thrusts back into you, causing you to let out a loud combination of a whine and a strangled groan, to which mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand. he starts slow, rocking in and out of you at a leisurely pace. his free hand that isn't muffling your noises rests beside you on the bed so that he doesn't absolutely crush you. mark makes sure not to fuck into you too hard, worried the loud sounds of skin on skin might wake his parents up. 

"think you can cover your own mouth for me?" he asks and you nod.

he pushes himself up so that his chest is no longer flush with yours and his hand is no longer covering your mouth. you hover the back of your hand over your mouth so that your voice is still audible enough for mark to hear, commanding him to go faster. you cover your mouth as he obliges, and he starts letting out soft moans. they're not nearly as loud as yours but they're so sexy that you almost can't help the way you try to roll your hips up into him in response. 

"what would all your fans think?" he says. "folded in half for my cock... all for me." he adds, starting to get lost in the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. he throws his head back and you swear you could cum from the sight right then and there. 

something snaps in mark- maybe its how close he is or how warm you are, but he stops caring about the noise and starts making pointed thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot in you that makes your eyes roll and your back arch off the bed. the sound of his skin on yours is loud and if you weren't so fucked out then maybe you'd care, but your brain is fuzzy and your skin is tingly and the only thing you can think about is how impossibly tight the coil in your stomach is. your hand isn't enough to muffle anything anymore, your fingers keep curling and you're squirming so much that it's hard to contain any sounds you make. mark seems to have forgotten where he is because he just starts praising you like you're alone in his apartment.

"so fucking gorgeous. gonna cum, princess? yeah?" he coos.

through babbles and broken groans you manage to get out a broken "please." his thumb finds your clit and he rubs it in rough circles and you swear you're on fire. your orgasm crashes into you like a crack of lightning and you open your mouth to let out a silent scream. you squirm and kick and mark holds your hips down to fuck you through it, chasing his own orgasm all the while. he cums not too long after you with a chant of your name and a broken, choked moan as he fills you up with ropes of hot seed. your chest heaves and you honestly forget that you even exist until mark's words bring you back.

"you don't think we woke them up, right?"

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A/N ┇OH GOD!!! im actually really scared i hope this isnt as bad as it seems to me i think i just dont like it because im the one who wrote it. i got a bit out of character for mark but like also who knows what hes like during sex. you dont know. i dont know. AHH! um i hope you 🫵 enjoyed it. take a shot every time i said the word you in this fanfic.

I got distracted while editing this because I had nct mvs playing in the background and 90s love came on… winwin I miss you