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kamiversee · 6 months

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 47 || The Drama (part 2)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE CAFE WAS RATHER busy with more people than you were expecting. But what had really caught your attention as soon as you entered was the smiling, and rather adorable, but strangely familiar cashier.

You had to blink a few times as you made eye contact with Ino, quickly forgetting what you even came to the establishment for. Your feet were moving to greet the man without a second thought and since there was no line, you were all too quick to approach him.

“Ino?” You called out in a surprised tone, to which a smile spread across his face.

“Hey there pretty lady,” He greeted cheerfully, “Never thought I’d see you here.”

You scoff, “Uh, I could say the same to you? I thought you were a bartender… what’re you doing here?”

He laughs a bit, “What, a man can’t work two jobs?” Ino teases, “At night I’m there and during the day I’m here.”

“How long have you been working two jobs?” You asked curiously, placing your hands on the counter and leaning forward a bit.

You weren’t trying to flirt but it was like your body language had changed over the months of seducing people. Thus, the slight movement of leaning forward caused a sliver of cleavage to be exposed, and from the angle Ino was looking at, well, your eyes seemed all too seductive.

“Uh,” He has to blink out of his thoughts and really focus his eyes on yours, “A-A few months.”

Your head weighs to the side, “Are you okay?”

“Huh, yeah, why?” He stammers.

“You’re stuttering,” You point out, taunting the man with a smile.

It was supposed to be a friendly motion but to him, he definitely thought you were flirting with him.

Ino clears his throat and his cheeks go red, “I told you before, I’m not that great with eye contact. It makes me nervous.”

You chuckle, “Uhuh…”

“A-Anyway,” He glances off to the side, “Did you want to order something?”

“Huh,” Your eyes drag up to the menu and you genuinely forgot all that you came for. “Oh, uh, I wasn’t planning on getting anything. I just saw you and wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh,” Ino chuckles and he meets your eyes for a moment, “We do have pretty good sweets here though.”

“Yeah? What do you suggest then?” You ask with a smile on your face, the idea of food always makes you happy.

The male looks up to the same menu you’d been looking at and he skims the items, “Hmmm…” Ino settles on something and then he looks back to you, “Maybe the-,” He jumps a bit and you see the way his eyes widen.

You raise a brow, confused as to why he reacted like that all of a sudden. Then, your question is answered when you see hands placed on the counter beside yours, along with your body being trapped between an all too familiar pair of arms.

You stare down at the hands beside your own, noticing the familiar veins, different sets of rings, and a black hair tie accessorizing the man’s skin. Then, you feel his crotch press up against your ass and a pair of lips latch onto the side of your neck, the sudden closeness and abrupt contact scaring the absolute shit out of you.

An all too familiar scent of cologne rushes into your nose and you knew it was Choso who’d just appeared so suddenly. The man straightens himself up behind you and you get chills as he moves his large hands to your waist, holding you in a claiming manner as his lips move along the side of your neck.

Kiss after kiss is placed upon you and you feel almost awkward as your body tenses while Ino looks scared shitless. Choso flicks his gaze over to the poor brown-haired cashier and you can’t see it but he sends him a menacing glare.

Prying his lips from you for only a moment, “Why’d you two stop talking?” Choso asks, his voice low and dull.

You swallowed and just barely managed to look at him out of the corner of your eye, “Maybe because someone came up to us so suddenly.” You comment.

Choso moves his head away from your neck so that he can meet your gaze fully, “You came to see me but you ended up over here talking to,” He plainly glances at Ino, side-eyeing the poor guy like crazy and then looking him up and down, “Him.”

You roll your eyes at how dramatic Choso’s being, “First off, his name is Ino and secondly, I know him and I wanted to say hi,” You tell him, “I shouldn’t have to explain any of this to you.”

Choso looks down at you, seeing how your brows are pushed together and you look slightly agitated with his approach. The sight makes Choso smirk, “I didn’t tell or ask you to explain anything to me,” He hums innocently.

You glare, “Don’t piss me off.”

He chuckles and leans down to you, his head tipping to the side and his lips meeting your cheek, “M’sorry baby.”

Ino awkwardly clears his throat, his head turned to the side and avoiding the two of you at all costs, “Ahem, uh, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend…”

You look at Ino, noticing his ears red but sweat sliding down his neck. What the hell made him so nervous— Choso?

You sigh, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet,” Choso chimes in, moving back down to kiss your neck and sending yet another glare to Ino.

Ino looks at the two of you for a split second but then his eyes dart down to the cash register, “R-Right, well uh, did you still want to order something?”

You nod, ignoring how ridiculously clingy Choso’s being, “Yeah, what were you going to suggest?”

“Um, the cookies here are pretty good,” Ino hums, his eyes refusing to look up at you again.

You know he’s timid with eye contact but now he won’t even glance at you. Was this because of Choso?

“I’ll take one of each then,” You requested.

Ino nods and his fingers tap across the screen in front of him, quickly submitting your order, “It’s uh, it’s on the house by the way.” He tells you.

You smile, “Really-“

Choso scoffs and you feel his head move, his chin soon resting on your shoulder as he again frightens the poor cashier with another stone-cold glare, “Fuck that,” He says, taking one hand off your waist and moving to pull something out his pocket, “I’ll pay.”

Your brows furrow and you simply couldn’t understand what was wrong with Choso all of a sudden.

“Oh,” Ino hums, just barely making eye contact with Choso before quickly looking back down, “That’ll be $18.76 then,” He says.

Choso hums and you watch him toss his card onto the counter in a nonchalant manner. To which Ino swallows hard as he moves with a shaky hand to grab the item.

You were so beyond confused as to why Ino was scared, “Ino,” You call out.

He jumps again and meets your eyes, “Huh?”

“Are you okay?” You ask with a kind smile.

The eye contact lasts for barely a second before Ino looks at Choso, feels himself shrinking, and then looks back down to charge the man’s card, “Y-Yeah.”

In all honesty, a lot was going on in Ino’s mind. For starters, the first time he ever saw you was when you were dancing with Gojo that one night a few months ago, then he saw you every other week up until you met Nanami just a few days ago, leading to now as he sees you with Choso…

He wasn’t going to say anything but seeing you with guy after guy was something he noted in his head. Maybe you were some kinda-

“Oi,” Choso calls, his low voice making Ino flinch and look up at you two, “Are you gonna’ give me my card back or what?”

Ino gulps and his hand is still shaking as he does so. Choso swipes the card out of his hand and pockets it quickly. After which, with a final glare and a look of disgust sent to Ino, Choso places his hand back on your waist, lifts his head from your shoulder, and urges you to walk away with him.

You begin to move with Choso but throw a hand up to wave Ino bye. Ino looks at you and meets your eyes but he doesn’t wave back, nor does he even smile-- he was genuinely scared shitless and you had no idea why.

Your hand then dropped and was placed over Choso’s as you walked with the man, “Cho, you scared him.”

“Good,” He says casually, “I didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

You scoff and turn your head to look back at the man, “And how was he looking at me exactly?”

Choso pauses in his steps and looks down at you. He stares for a second, getting distracted by the angle from which you were gazing up at him. Then, he sighs, “Like he wanted to fuck you.”

Your brows furrow, “Choso I think you’re seeing things.”

“You can’t tell when someone finds you attractive?” He questions.

“I can but-“

“If that’s the case then you would’ve noticed how many times he looked down at your tits before I walked up to you two.” Choso cuts off, “If he got scared because I came up behind you and sent him a look or two, then that’s good, he should be scared.”

“Choso… you looked at him like you wanted to kill him,” You say jokingly.

Choso doesn’t say anything, he simply stares.

You blink, “What, don’t tell me you thought about hurting-“

“Yuki wants to meet you by the way,” He says, redirecting the conversation entirely.

You pause and then move to turn all the way around and face Choso completely. Folding your arms, you raise a brow at him, “Were you actually thinking of hurting Ino just now?”

Again, Choso stares at you for a long moment. Then he sighs heavily, “If I wanted to hurt him just now, I would’ve.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” You point out.

He groans, “No, I wasn’t thinking about hurting him. I jus’ didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

You raise a brow, “Were you jealous or something?”

“I always am,” Choso tells you honestly.

“Uhuh… Well, speaking of jealousy, can I ask why you and Yuki were here together?” You question.

The man smirks, “Does it matter?”

“Yes, Choso.” You state plainly.

He takes in your expression, finding you nothing short of attractive at the moment, “Why?”

“Because…” You trail off a bit, feeling unsure if you should express your thoughts.

Choso leans down to you a little and tilts his head, “Because what?”

“Cause’ I don’t understand what reason you’d have to be here with her.” You blurt out. And just like that, your dislike of the matter was showing.

Choso smiles tauntingly, “I can’t hang out with a friend?”

You don’t find him funny in that moment, sending him nothing more than a glare, “Not one you used to fuck, no.”

“Oh?” Choso bites his lower lip, “Baby… Did you just tell me who I can and can’t hang out with?”

You look off to the side, “I did…”

“So you are jealous.” He purrs, his voice showing just how entertained by this he is.

“Why do you care if I’m jealous or not?” You ask in a confused manner, scrunching up your face at him.

Choso shrugs, his smile yet to fade, “Why wouldn’t I? If the woman I want is jealous because I’m hanging out with someone else, why wouldn’t I care?”

You blink, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s because you have two guys you’re trying to pick between,” He hums, “See, to be jealous because of me means you want me all to yourself.”

“W-What, no?”

“Uhm, yes? To be jealous in the context of a relationship is to be suspicious toward one’s faithfulness,” Choso explains, “And if you’re worried about me being unfaithful well, not only do you not trust me but,” He leans closer to you and whispers, “You also don’t like the thought of me with someone else.”

Your brows push together, “I do trust you Choso-“

“Obviously not,” He argues, “Baby, do you think I have your name on me for no reason? I almost got it tatted on my neck but I figured that’d be too much.”

“A-Are you serious?” You scoff at the new information, “Choso we weren’t even seeing each other..”

“I know but,” He shrugs, “I told you I’d wait for you.”

A concerned brow is raised as you question him, “What does that have to do with the tattoo?”

“That’s a symbol of me waiting,” Choso explains, “Even if you came back and told me you fell for someone else, I would’ve told you that if things don’t work out, you can always come back to me.”

“Choso, we’ve only known each other for like,” Your face twists up in thought, “Barely even a full semester?”

“So?” He scoffs.

“What do you mean so? How can you be so… s-so, in love with me?”

He tilts his head in a confused and innocent manner, “How can I not? You brought creativity back into my heart, you made me smile uncontrollably for hours on end, the sound of your voice makes my soul happy, and just looking at you brings me nothing but joy.”

You swallow hard and Choso inches closer, “I…”

“It doesn’t take long for me to fall for someone, princess.” He explains, his hands moving up to your face, “Especially not when that someone is you.”

“Choso, I…”

“Why do we have to know each other for a longer period of time to be in love?” He asks. The question was actually a rather good one. “Even if it’s cliche, why am I not allowed to have experienced love at first sight?”

Your brows raise, “Is that what it was?”

“Well, I couldn’t pick up a paintbrush and do anything for the past three months before I met you,” He explains, “Yet, the very second I saw you, inspiration struck me. So, you tell me, is that love?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, “I-I don’t know…”

“I mean, maybe it wasn’t love at first sight but I was definitely enamored,” Choso murmurs, chuckling a little, “Hell, I still am now.”

You can’t help the smile that grows on your face, “Choso..”

“I mean it,” He says, his voice quiet as his lips near yours, “You are the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Oh he’s such a liar— how could have once told you he doesn’t have a way with words? His way with words currently has your knees weakening in a similar way Gojo’s words had.

Your smile angles downward and you think you’re starting to understand his emotions a bit more. That’s the one thing Choso struggles to express but it’s so clear he’s working on it just for you.

“That’s so sweet Choso,” You tell him.

“I try,” He hums, just barely placing his lips on yours before pulling away, “And uh, you don’t have any reason to be jealous because of Yuki. Even if she was still into me, I could never find love in another woman the way I do you.”

“What about lust?” You ask.

He chuckles, “There is no lust for me without love.”

“Is that so?”

Choso nods his head, “Mhm.”

You hum and nearly kiss the man but the feeling of guilt suddenly stabs you in the back. You were just making out with Gojo…

Choso notices your hesitation and his brows furrow, “What’s wrong baby?”

“Uhm,” You stare at him, unsure of what excuse you could give him as to why you don’t want to kiss, “Nothing I just uh-”

“Choso!” A female suddenly calls out, the sound both aggravating you and yet saving you at the same time.

The man’s entire facial expression drops and you don’t know if you’ve ever seen Choso so pissed off in person before. It was almost cute the way he frowns and the color in his eyes seemed to dull, a completely uninterested expression taking over his features.

Then, his hands move to your waist and he wraps them around you, pulling your body into his and holding you tightly as he looks at the owner of the voice who’d just shouted his name, “I hate you, y’know that, right?” He says to her.

You blink and try to turn your head around but Choso shoots a hand up to the back of your head and forces your face into his chest as if he wanted to keep you hidden. You giggle at his antics, “Cho, I wanna see…” You mumble against him.

Your hands then move against his body, sliding against his waist and squeezing between his body and your own so that you can set your palms on his chest. Then you try to push him away a bit but he doesn’t budge.

“There’s nothing for you to see, honestly,” Choso tells you, chuckling a bit at how you’re squirming and shifting against him. It was cute to him how you couldn’t exactly move away from his grasp.

“Oh come onnn,” The woman speaks again. Was it Yuki? You weren’t exactly sure since she sounded a bit different compared to the phone call, “Lemme’ see her, pleaaaase?” The woman begs, “C’mon, bring her over here! We made a promise, remember?”

Promise? What promise? Your brows push together and you try moving against Choso again but he still doesn’t move in the slightest. Then, his hands drop to your waist and he forces you to start walking backward as he walks forward with you. Choso grumbles out some curse about the woman and you snicker.

He looks down at you for a moment and you manage to look up, “You think this is funny?”

“I don’t know why you’re acting so strange so, yes, yes I do.” You say with a giddy little smile on your face.

Choso’s eyes linger on you for a longer moment than intended, as always, and once the two of you walk to a certain point, he looks away from you and to someone who’s somewhere behind you. “You’ll see why in a second,” He tells you.

You raise a brow, “Does this mean I can turn around now?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Choso says with a frown.

Chuckling at him, you steadily turn your body around to finally lay eyes on the woman he’d been hanging out with and talking to. Choso’s hands find solace in remaining on your waist and he grips you tightly, almost as if at any given moment you’ll slip away from him.

Meanwhile, your breath is caught somewhere in your throat when you lock eyes with the woman he’d been with. In a matter of seconds, you’re conflicted between a feeling of insecurity, jealousy, and not knowing whether or not you want to be this woman or be with this woman.

The prettiest set of brown eyes decorated with a pronounced set of eyelashes takes all of you in, like, literally every inch of your body in as if she were checking you out. Long blonde hair cascades down her back as she sits with her legs sprawled out into a manspread and one of her arms resting against the back of the booth-like seat she was in.

She had on this sleeveless turtle neck crop top paired with these baggy jeans and-, good lord her arms are so defined and although she’s rather slim, her build was athletic, and above all-- she was fucking hot. You watch the way she weighs her head to the side a bit as her eyes dip downwards along your body, the two tufts on either side of her face swaying along with her movement.

Her sheer gloss-coated lips quirk into a smile and her gaze then snaps back up to your face, “Well shit, Choso…” She comments simply. Your brows pinch together but then your entire expression drops when she stands and god she’s taller than you and even maybe an inch taller than Choso.

You swallow hard as she moves to step toward you and Choso, who is still holding onto you for dear life. Then, the blonde leans down to your face and a finger is brought to your chin to lift your head a bit.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?” She says to Choso as he inspects your face closer.

You have no idea how to speak anymore, you can’t really breathe, you think you’re sweating, and fuck she smells amazing.

The woman then focuses on you before Choso even gets a moment to respond and she flashes you a smile, “Hi cutie, I’m Yuki,” She greets, moving her hand from your chin and standing up straight to extend her hand out for you to shake.

You have to blink a few times to snap yourself out of your daze and you just barely manage to put your hand out and shake hers. You mumbled out your name and you’re not sure a woman has made you this nervous in quite some time, “Nice to uh, n-nice to meet you.”

Yeah, the last time you were this nervous because of a woman’s presence was when you first met Shoko.

Yuki chuckles, “Mhm, nice to meet you too! Choso’s told me so much about you within the past few minutes.”

You honestly forgot about Choso for a moment, turning your head to the side a bit to look at the man. His facial expression was absolutely dreadful as if he hated every second of this interaction. “Has he?” You ask.

“Yup!” She beams as she then moves and returns to her seat. Plopping down, she nods her chin toward the seats across from her own, “C’mon, sit down, I wanna get to know you for myself!”

You hear Choso groan frustratedly, “This wasn’t a part of the deal-”

“Didn’t ask, don’t care,” Yuki interrupts him, “Now both of you, sit.”

You’re moving before Choso is and the way you take a seat so quickly makes Choso’s heart ache. He hated every passing second of this. It was killing him inside to see you already getting along with Yuki.

With another groan, Choso rolls his eyes and goes to take the seat beside you and across from Yuki.

The woman giggles, “Aw, look at you twooo,” She hums enthusiastically before moving to prop her elbows up on the table and rest her chin in the palms of her hands, “You guys make a great couple but,” She looks at you, “You could do much better honestly.”

You blink. That was certainly not what you were expecting her to say, “Better than Choso?”

“Of course, who wants a grumpy emo pigtailed freak clinging onto them every second of the day?” She says, laughing at her comment.

You snicker and look at the man beside you. Choso has this lifeless look on his face, seeming as though he were mentally plotting the different ways in which he could harm the woman sitting across from him up until you place a hand on his thigh and he snaps out of it.

Choso turns to you and his face lights back up, “Don’t listen to her, please.”

“Why not?” Yuki chimes in, “A woman like her needs someone more… bright and fun!”

In the driest tone ever, “I am bright and fun,” Choso grumbles.

You laugh at him and move a hand to pinch his cheek, the motion bringing him more comfort than you realize, “Sure you are.”

He blinks, “What do you mean sure?”

“You’re fun but I’m not too sure about bright…” You tell him.

His brows push together and a pout pulls at his lips, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Choso,” You look down at him, “You’re wearing all black and you walk around looking like you haven’t slept in days.”

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, and?”

“And that’s okay, I think it’s hot,” You tell him, sending him a cute smile.

He hums, smiling on the inside like crazy but his facial expression hardly changes.

Yuki finds the interaction between you and Choso nothing short of entertaining, “So is that your type, then?”

You look over at her, “Huh?”

Choso groans, “Oh god, Yuki you don’t have to ask every person you talk to this damn question-”

“Yes I do, shut up.” She cuts him off, “Now back to you,” Yuki smiles brightly as her eyes meet yours, “What’s your type?”

“My type?” You echo, “Uh,” For a moment, you look at Choso again and after a second of thought, you shrug, “Dark-haired depressed looking men,” You say flawlessly.

Yuki bursts out laughing and then looks at Choso, “Yeah? Shit, I guess Choso’s perfect for ya’.”

You nod and Choso moves to rest his head on your shoulder, trying to just tune himself out of this conversation unless you speak to him directly. Your gaze then returns to Yuki and she’s still laughing at the description you gave her.

Then, after the humor dies down, she settles her gaze on you again and something in her eyes shifts, “Okay, now how about women?”

You blink and Choso fumes, “Okay, fuck this, fuck you, we’re leaving,” He snaps suddenly, lifting his head from your shoulder and attempting to stand up.

You reach for the sleeve of his shirt and tug him right back down into place, having no idea what his issue is all of a sudden.

Then, as he sits himself down again, you look at Yuki, “I’m not sure I have a type in women, honestly.”

She tilts her head at you, “Sure’ about that, hun? Just really think about it. Y’know, if you were to find anything in a woman attractive, what would it be?”

You think for a second and damn the way your eyes flick to her short-cut feminine set of hands and the lean muscular arms that lead to them. And to make matters worse, as you look, Yuki notices.

“Oh?” She smiles and moves her hands, extending her arms across the table and displaying her hands, “You have a thing for hands, pretty girl?”

Your face flushes in embarrassment and at this point, Choso’s resting his head back against the seat and just staring up at the ceiling wondering how the hell he allowed the two of you to get to this point in conversation.

Your face is all hot and you swallow hard, “U-Uhm, n-no I just-”

Yuki leans forward a bit, “It’s okay if you are, y’know. Hell, if you want…” She looks at Choso for a moment, then back to you with a smirk, “You can get a feel of my hands and tell me how much you like them.”

“I-I don’t… Uh, I’m n-not,” Shit, you couldn’t even form words properly.

Yuki tilts her head, “C’mon, get it out, pretty.”

Choso lifts his head and instantly glares at the woman, “Yuki,” He calls out.

She groans and rolls her eyes before looking at him, “Whaaat?”

“Keep flirting with her and I’ll kill you,” He threatens, his voice gone cold and the threat far from baseless.

That snaps you out of your flustered state and you quickly turn your head to Choso, “What?”

He doesn’t even look at you, his eyes deadly focused on the woman across the table.

Yuki laughs and leans back in her seat, “You’re just like your brother, y’know.”

That manages to make Choso’s moment of contemplating murder fade completely, “W-What?” He asks, his voice returning to normal as he’s thrown off.

You’re just as confused at this point and you’re unsure of what to say or do anymore. Brother? Who, Yuji?

The blonde shrugs and glances off to the side, “Always so quick to make some crazy ass threat over the slightest inconvenience. He does the same thing, y’know. That’s why he’s always fighting someone every other week-”

“Don’t compare me to that fuckin’ asshole,” Choso spat, “I’m nothing like him and he’s not my brother.”

That’s when you realize they were probably talking about Sukuna…

She laughs, “Right, right, sure he isn’t.” Then, Yuki rolls her eyes and returns her attention to you, “Anywaysss, back to you, cutie.”

“Uh, what uhm, what were we talking about again?” You hum nervously.

Yuki gives you a warm smile, “Let’s just drop that topic since Mr. Grumpy Pants over here doesn’t want me flirting with ya’.”

You glance at Choso from the corner of your eye, “He can’t stop you from flirting with me,” You comment, earning a confused glance from Choso before you look at Yuki again, “We’re not dating.”

“Yet,” Choso adds on.

Yuki’s eyebrows raise, “Oh? So what are you two then? Friends with benefits? In some kinda’ situationship? Orr are you guys scared of a relationship?”

“I’m not,” Choso answers purposefully.

You roll your eyes at his words, “None of those, actually. We’ll figure it out soon though.”

“Hmmm, okay! S’long as you’re happy,” Yuki says, winking at you.

You smile and then tilt your head, “What about you two?”

Choso freezes and Yuki’s smile grows wider, “Us two? He hasn’t told you anything?!”

You shake your head.

Yuki moves to take one of the napkins up from the table, balls it up, and throws it at Choso’s face, “How can you expect to have a relationship with someone when you don’t even tell them about your exes!” She says.

You blink, “Ex?” Your voice was so soft and gentle that Yuki almost felt bad for how ignorant you were about their relationship.

She nods, “Mhm! I was Choso’s first girlfriend.”

Slowly, you turn and look at the man in question, seeing how he refuses to meet your eyes, “Choso, why didn’t you tell me this?”

“You never asked,” He says with a shrug.

“Well,” You look at Yuki again, “If that’s the case then, what were you two doing hanging out today?”

Yuki opens her mouth to reply but then closes it after a moment of thought. An idea pops into her mind and she shifts her sights to Choso, “Hey Cho, I think your girlfriend’s order is ready, you should go get it.”

You immediately caught on to what she was trying to do. Yuki wanted to be alone with you for a moment and you weren’t against the idea in the slightest.

Choso glares at the woman, “Why-”

You smack his arm playfully and he turns to you, seeing the smile on your face, “Please?” You ask him.

Being a complete sucker for you, Choso sighs heavily, “Fine.”

Then, Choso gets up from the table and sends Yuki a look of warning before he leaves. You both watch him walk away and then you turn to Yuki with an expectant look on your face.

“Okay well, before you worry or anything, he probably didn’t tell you because he’s suuuper embarrassed about the relationship he and I had,” She tells you flawlessly.

You raise a brow, “What’s so embarrassing about it?”

“How we broke up.” She hums, “Dunno’ if you could tell but uh,” She leans forward and whispers, “I’m moreso into women, sweets.”

You blink, “O-Oh.”

“Yeahhhh so, for whatever reason, he gets really embarrassed whenever I talk about the way I left him,” Yuki chuckles as she recalls the memory, “But trust me when I say, the two of us are barely even friends, let alone lovers anymore.”

“Uhuh…” You hum, nodding along with her.

“Oh! And another thing,” She glances over to make sure Choso isn’t coming back and then she grins, “Since I used to date the guy, I’d assume it’s safe for me to warn ya’ about a few things…?”

“Warn me?” A scoff leaves past your lips and your brows pinch together, “Warn me about what?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed how clingy he is,” She says hintingly.

You nod, “I mean, yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“No, of course not! It’s just…” She looks over again and then back to you, “When he gets into a relationship he gets really… uh… what’s the word…”

“Obsessive?” You blurt out, worried that Choso may be just like Gojo-

“No, not at all. Obsessive is crazy.” Yuki laughs, “Choso’s more of the uhm… possessive type?”

“P-Possesive?” You say with a bat of your lashes.

“Mhm!” Her hum is so nonchalant that it eases the temporary worry you had, “Not that it gets to a crazy level but he does have his moments and I even noticed how he’s been with you.”

There’s this chill slipping up your spine, “Is it bad?”

Yuki’s brows knit together and she blinks, “Hm?”

“His possessiveness,” You clarify, “Is it bad?”

“Uhm,” She swallows and you watch the way her facial expression changes, “Well, with me it wasn’t-”

“Based on what you’ve seen with me, is it bad?” You cut off, moderately desperate for answers before Choso comes back.

Yuki’s eyebrows raise in a telling manner, “Well-”

A small box of assorted cookies is suddenly placed on the table in between where the two of you are talking and both of you jump. You turn to the side and notice Choso’s standing there all of a sudden. You didn’t even hear him walking up to the two of you? How the hell does he keep sneaking up on you like that and why does it keep scaring you?

You swallow and you and Yuki have both gone mute.

Choso stares at the two of you for a second before raising a concerned brow, “The hell did you two stop talking for?”

“Uh, you scared us, jackass,” Yuki says to him.

He rolls his eyes at her and then goes to take his seat beside you.

After which, you decide to change the topic back to what you were discussing before he walked away, “A-Anyway, uh, you guys were hanging out today because…?”

Choso moves to take one of the cookies he bought for you and takes a bite before answering, “I was drawing and this crazy lady came running up to me saying it’s been forever since we last saw each other,” He explains.

You chuckle and Yuki frowns at him, “First off, I’m not crazy and secondly, I was here to meet a friend of mine and then I noticed Choso,” She tells you. Then, the woman looks at something behind you and her eyes light up, “Speaking of the devil!” She says loudly before shooting her hand up and waving the person over.

Your brows furrow and you decide to follow her line of vision, turning your head back to see who she was talking about.

Fuck.

Oh, you’re fucked.

So very fucked because the person in which Yuki was referring to is none other than the best friend of Gojo, the man in which you used to be friends with benefits with, the second guy on the list you slept with, and the pervert who you’d like to consider yourself decently friends with…

For the man approaching the table was none other than Geto Suguru.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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loves4ge · 1 month

Text

celebrity!au, mlist for more celebrity gojo

you're not sure what to do with gojo satoru. not after your agent asks if you'd be in a publicity stunt centered around him. you've never done one before; after all, you're only an up-and-coming star.

before this movie, you were considered a nobody, just someone to fill in the background. you'd heard horror stories, absolute bloodbaths on set, rumors of things that happened that violated the geneva conventions. you suppose you were lucky to end up starring in a movie with a cast that was nothing short of nice.

and then there's gojo, your on-screen love interest. an a-list celebrity. he's been on the cover of every major magazine at least once. and maybe you sort of admire him (you'd never tell him that; his ego is already through the roof). i mean, who could blame you?

but right now, you're rethinking everything. sure, you're an actor, and a pretty darn good one, but you're inexperienced. your heart hasn't been hardened by the industry yet. if you take this opportunity, you know you'll get absolutely wrecked. really? fake dating gojo satoru?

your agent looks at you expectantly. "we won't go through with it if you don't want to. we're only doing this because of sukuna's dui, but the publicity team can come up with something else."

you don't really like sukuna; he has scary eyes. but there's something warm about him when he interacts with yuji. you feel bad.

"i'll do it."

BREAKING NEWS: GOJO SATORU AND CO-STAR Y/N ANNOUNCE THEY'RE DATING A WEEK BEFORE THE RELEASE OF THEIR NEW MOVIE.

"that's a wordy headline, isn't it?" gojo mutters, mostly to himself, as he sips on an iced latte. it's so white, it could be mistaken for milk.

"show me?" you ask softly, seated across from him in the mostly empty cafe. the paparazzi are obvious with their pictures, and you both strategically sit in places where you can be photographed.

gojo flips his phone around to show the article, stilling when your fingers brush against his hand as you take the phone from him. he shakes it off quickly and returns to his latte.

"oh wow, this is ridiculous. they think i've been dating you since the start of filming." you look up at him with big, round eyes and a smile as soft as clouds (gojo isn't sure where that analogy comes from; he's never touched a cloud).

"well, is it really that ridiculous?" his murmur is low as he leans back in his chair. he thought you were pretty from the start. did he come off as arrogant? oh no, now he'll never stop thinking about this.

"hm?" you look up, since you didn't hear his murmur clearly. he waves you off. and then you remember.

"um, you know, oh i feel so awkward saying this," your hesitation makes him straighten. his eyes are narrowed in concern, hands reaching out in comfort but never quite touching you.

"you can tell me anything, you know that," he says, maintaining eye contact with you which is hard considering you're trying to look anywhere but him.

"i was just, i know we have to kiss... at some point. but i would just, erm, i would like a heads up before. oh, well, before you do kiss me." gojo felt his heart explode about three times in the time it took you to finish that sentence. and his grin doubled. it stretched ear to ear like a goddamn cheshire cat.

you were still looking down, fidgeting with your hands when gojo dragged his chair to be nearer to you.

"hey? this is the heads up by the way." you barely have any time to react. you're about to protest, say something, anything when his lips touch yours.

it's a gentle touch. you've kissed him before, on set, but never like this. yeah, this is a performance too but it felt too real. there's no director counting down to time the kiss and the cameras are too far away for you to even notice them.

his hands tighten against your waist, and yours somehow make it to the back of his neck. then upwards, in his hair. he bites your lower lip, and you gasp, almost pulling back but he pulls you back in harder. this time his kiss is not so gentle.

the press is gonna have a field day with this.

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satorisoup · 7 months

Text

ᰔ A KISS FOR A KISS ft. kenma kozume

ʚ CW : first kisses. sfw.

ʚ hq valentine’s series mlist ಇ

it’s valentine’s day, a holiday for the celebration of love, and today your boyfriend only had one thing in mind.

he was going to kiss you.

it has been almost 8 months since you and kenma kozume had become official, and you still have yet to get to first base. kenma curses himself for the awkward timid personality he was given since birth, as it really would not come in handy when it came to the physical part of a relationship.

kenma never would have thought he would be the one wanting to initiate a kiss with you, but at this point, he really couldn’t help it. every time your hands would come to stroke his hair with that sweet, small smile on your face, or the hugs you would envelope him in whenever you had him in your sight, even the nervous blush on your cheeks when you would lace your fingers with his, all of it had him in a battle with his own desires, to just lean in and leave a little peck on the soft lips that adorned your lovely face. but no, it never seemed like the right time, or the right place, it just didn’t feel in character for him to do that out of the blue.

today, this changes. february 14th, kenma was going to kiss you before the sun set to bring another day. and he swore, he would die before he allowed himself to wimp out again. there’s no room for shyness.

the first half of school had rolled around, and kenma had surprisingly held your hand in the halls, which was more-so unlike him given how usually uncomfortable he is with pda. you shook it off though, given it was an important holiday for you two, and perhaps he just wanted to make it all the more special, to which you were extremely grateful.

no, this wouldn’t be the time to kiss you. it was too early in the day. he should wait until it’s less crowded and he’s more prepared.

kenma waved at you when you had walked into your class, a soft mumble of “see you at lunch.” you smile and hold a thumbs up before you make your way to your seat, kenma walking off to his own classroom.

eventually lunchtime had come, and you both sat in a nice corner of the courtyard, pretty pink lunchbox with yummy foods sprawled out in front of you. you gingerly chewed on the small heart shaped sandwiches you had packed, and kenma ate along with you, hardly audible hums in appreciation while munched on one himself.

“do you like it, kenma? the heart cutters made them so much cuter!”

he nodded his head while he shortly answered, “yeah, they’re good.”.

well, he couldn’t kiss you now. you were both eating lunch, and that would be kind of gross for you to get the taste of mayonnaise after a kiss.

kenma’s procrastination eventually led to the school day ending, and he wants to punch himself in the gut for not taking the opportunities he had, wussing out for who knows how many times. you meet up with kenma by the school gates, voice cheery as you tell him how excited you were to spend time with him. you’re smiling, and kenma has the slightest hint of pink on the tips of his ears as he listens to you talk. though, he isn’t particularly paying attention to what your saying, but rather staring at your lips as if they’re holding the universe themselves.

there’s a brisk, cold breeze but the sun is shining like no other today. the walk along the path to kenma’s home is lit with golden yellow hues that beat down from the sky as the sun begins to slowly decend from the horizon. beams of light frame your face, voice blurred from his pure focus and kenma thinks that he might be living in a movie while he watches you, then your lips, you, and your lips again.

would now be a good time? there’s no one around. would you say yes? maybe you would run away. what if you got freaked out? how should he say it? should he just go all in and skip the romantics? no, it needs to be special. maybe he should wait-

no. he’s put this off for far too long. 8 months too long. and as his teammates would say, no matter how much he despised the word in its entirety, he needed to use some guts.

kenma starts to gather every ounce of backbone he possibly could have in his body, he had to do it now and there was no wimping out this time. he had a mission, and he was determined to actually accomplish it. he’s prepared enough, he thinks, when he turns to you to speak up for once in his quiet life.

“can i-“

“kenma, would you like some candy?”

he was hushed before he could get a full syllable out, putting a pause on his impulses to bob his head yes.

kenma observes you while you’re rummaging through your schoolbag, reaching in to a small pocket before pulling out a piece of hershey’s cherry kiss chocolate. your hand stretches out towards his opened one, and before you drop it into his awaiting palm, you pull back.

“well, you can have this candy, but on one condition… im offering you a trade!” you announce.

“uh… what is it?” kenma asks you, voice low and tone a hint of confusion.

your hand unravels once again to reveal the small chocolate kiss in the crevices of your hand, making a show of the small treat.

“a kiss…” you pause, and kenma can feel the anticipation build up within him while he waits for you to finish your offer.

“for a kiss.” you point at your lips with your index finger.

kenma can feel his insides combust into a million pieces, his calm, collected demeanor is slightly faltered with the way his eyes widen, dumbfounded while his heart beat quickens to a rapid pace.

he looks at you in silence, admiring the red blush on your face that’s so obvious, you could camouflage with a garden of tomatoes. you’re nervous, and even so, you’re smiling at him with that same precious grin, and the same pretty, pink lips that have practically screaming “kiss me!” in his ears all day.

“okay.”

before you’re able to register kenma’s compliance to your trade, he’s unable to keep himself back anymore. his hand awkwardly grabs hold of your wrist, candy dropped to the floor when he collides his lips with yours. they’re soft and cherried in flavor, he deems, reveling in the feeling he’s been waiting to experience for what seems like forever. he holds the small kiss for a few seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away. gone were the previous cowardly attempts and failed opportunities, because kenma finally finds the guts this time to ask,

“can i have another?”

and kenma knows, kuroo was never going to let him live this down.

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luvismenu · 20 days

Text

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook pt.6 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ written ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ! nsfw !

mlist — 06/10

♡ — permanent taglist: @wnteraezz @blaricee @blluee28 @jkvias @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld

“missed me?”

you turn around, and there he is—jeon jungkook, standing in the hallway with that stupid, cocky grin on his face, the one that gets under your skin, though you’re not entirely sure if you actually hate it as much as you think you do.

“not at all,” you say flatly, shoving your bag into his chest. he grabs it, his grin widening as if your words only amuse him.

“ugh... not even a little!? i’ve been gone for a while,” he says it like he's offended, clutching your bag to his chest.

you roll your eyes. “you were gone for a week. don’t be dramatic.” a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you start walking toward your class.

“and what a week it has been!!!” jungkook exclaims as he follows you. he grabs your arm gently, stopping you in your tracks, and turns you to face him. his body leans closer, the space between you shrinking fast.

“what are you doing?” you mutter, your heart speeding up as you feel his body press closer. his eyes flicker down to your lips

“missed you.”

your mind races.

you can’t kiss him... not here at least.

it’s too public, way too risky.

your friends are nearby, and if they see you with jungkook like this, they’ll definitely start assuming things.

assuming the worst.

oh wait... they think you’re dating jungkook.

well, in that case, a kiss doesn’t really matter, does it?

you close your eyes, leaning in, ready to give in to the moment.

but before your lips can meet his, a voice slices through the air, startling both of you.

“___?”

you blink, looking past jungkook’s shoulder. standing there, looking awkward and uncomfortable, is...

yeobum?

jungkook straightens up, turning around to face him, and you catch the frown on his face. it’s a look you’ve rarely seen on him—sharp and dangerous.

“what the fuck do you want now?” his tone is harsh, harsh enough to make yeobum step back a little.

your eyes widen in surprise. you’ve never seen jungkook like this before. sure, he can be over-the-top and protective, but this level of hostility?

it’s new.

kinda hot too.

yeobum's gaze shifts to jungkook. “oh.. you're back,” he looks frustrated, maybe even a little upset at having been caught by your “fake boyfriend”.

but the tension in the air makes it clear;jungkook is anything but fake right now.

“didn’t i tell you to leave her the fuck alone?” jungkook snaps, “did you try anything while i was gone?” his hand shooting out to grab yeobum’s collar. in one swift motion, he lifts yeobum off the floor, his strength on full display.

you gasp, your heart racing as you grab onto jungkook’s bicep. “jungkook, put him down!”

you scan the hallway, hoping no one else is around to witness this, but of course, that’s too much to ask for. a crowd of students has already gathered, encouraging the situation.

“fight! fight! fight!”

“get him, jungkook!!!”

“give that stalker what he deserves!”

the chants grow louder, the students clearly loving the drama.

“jungkook! put him down! he didn't do anything to me,” you hiss, tugging on his arm. he glances at you, his eyes softening slightly at your touch. with a deep sigh, he loosens his grip and drops yeobum back onto the floor.

“if i ever see you even in the same room as her, i am killing you,” jungkook growls, his voice low and menacing. yeobum gulps, visibly shaken as he stumbles back, nodding quickly before scurrying off.

jungkook doesn’t waste any time. he grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, and starts leading you away from the growing crowd. you follow, your feet moving on autopilot as the shouts and laughter of the students echo behind you.

he drags you (gently) out of the hallway, his grip firm but not painful. the cool air hits your face as you exit the building, and finally, you tug your hand out of his grasp

“jungkook, stop! what are you doing?,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “what were you even thinking? that was stupid! what if you got hurt, or worse, what if you got suspended!? you can’t just go around getting into fights like that.”

“getting suspended is worse than me getting hurt?” a chuckle leaves his lips.

“you know what i mean!! don't be a dumbass, please” you sigh

“cute,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips, catching you off-guard

“what?”

“you care about me,”

“fuck off,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in your words.

“but seriously though,” he grins, “that bum has no chance against me. you’re safe with me, always.”

you roll your eyes, but a chuckle escapes your lips.

“again, fuck off”

“soo where to, madam?” he sings, your bag still in his grasp.

“i was supposed to go to class, but you dragged me here,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“right, then let's go back in,” he says, holding your bag out for you to take it.

“nuh uh, punishment for almost getting suspended—you carry my bag,” you say like you're commanding him.

“freaky," he smirks, slinging your bag over his shoulder.

“how was busan?”

“honestly, it was relaxing.” jungkook drags a chair towards you and sits in front of your desk. he's in your class again.

no one really cares.

everyone's either too scared or too shy to talk to him.

god, why is he so popular?

“do you miss your mom and dad?” you ask, tilting your head.

“i kinda do,” he mimics your motion, tilting his head as well.

before you can say anything, two girls walk towards jungkook, giggling.

why does everyone interrupt us?

“hey jungkook, um...” kim yunhee speaks up.

“we wanna invite you to our party tonight!” min jiwoo continues, a shy smile on her face.

they're totally ignoring you.

whatever.

“ah... thanks, girls, but i have plans tonight,” he smiles at them, and they giggle a little before saying ‘it’s okay’ and walking away.

you give him a look.

“jealous?” he smirks, raising a brow.

“of your little fan club? please.” you scoff

“i mean, you're my girlfriend so—”

“fake girlfriend,” you correct him immediately, and he leans in closer.

“what we do is anything but fake, darling,” he says with a grin.

“shut up,” you shove him back with your hand.

he chuckles and folds his arms together. “is it because i haven't seen you for a week? you look extra fuckable today.”

“are you seriously horny right now?” you ask, unimpressed.

“what? i’m honest,” he laughs. “nothing wrong with being honest.”

“maybe you should focus more on your fan club,” you say, giving him a half-hearted smile. “they would probably suck your dick”

“aha!! you ARE jealous!” he exclaims

“i am NOT,” you snap back

“don’t be, darling. i told you, my body is devoted to you,” he says, dramatically clutching his chest. “don’t need anybody else. i'll let them know if that’s what you want.”

let them know?

“do it, then,” you challenge, raising a brow.

he smirks.

“oh my goddd, i love my girlfriend so much! she’s so adorable!!!” he practically shouts, purposefully loud enough for everyone to hear, especially the two girls.

his eyes still locked on yours as his voice lowers, “i love her too much, it’s actually crazy that she's mine, i’m such a lucky man.”

you shake your head, slightly amused. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m your boyfriend. i do what you want me to,” he jokes

or maybe he’s being serious. you’re not sure.

“great job, buddy,” you laugh a little.

“do i get a reward?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

“you want your dick sucked or something?” you tilt your head

“no. i mean... later! but for now, how about a kiss?” he licks his lips

“in class?” you ask, wondering if he’s serious.

“yeah, obviously,” he chuckles and leans in.

oh he's serious.

you were going to stop him but the you glance behind him, spotting a bunch of girls watching your interaction.

i'll let them know too.

you smirk at them before leaning in and kissing him.

the kiss only lasts a few seconds, but when you pull back, you're met with his gaze. the thought of the girls behind him was long gone.

his eyes are so pretty..

there’s something about it—something that makes your stomach flutter.

butterflies.

maybe?

you're not sure, but it feels... nice.

you stare into his eyes for a moment longer before speaking up.

“jungkook?”

“hm?”

“missed you too.”

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook smau #bts fanfiction #fanfic #bts

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jadeoru · 2 months

Text

SMUDGED LIPSTICK!

13: so casual -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: in my head - the mysterines 🎶

“Hey, stranger."

His head immediately turned to the source of your voice, the sound of each word that left your mouth sent chills down his spine. “Hey.” He almost whispered, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He missed the way your name tasted on his tongue. “You look nice.” He sunk into himself, seeming as shy as he was the day you met him for the first time. It was cute. A sweet smile found its way to your lips. “Thank you! You look nice too.” Your voice was sweet and soft, a stark contrast to how it was when you were onstage: loud and powerful. Your head had to tilt upwards to look at him properly. Has he always been this tall? You should’ve worn your boots after all. He muttered an awkward thank you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. They moved in a way that made his nervousness clear: a subtle fidgeting with the lining of fabric. You had to take control of the conversation. “You ready to become friends?” You asked, a playful smirk on your face, almost wide enough to show your teeth - Almost wide enough to expose how excitement was gnawing on your core, in the form of butterflies. “Yeah.” He nodded his head. He regretted each dry response that fled from his lips, but he didn’t know what else to say. He was terrified of somehow messing everything up - again. Your eyebrow creased with hope that he’d loosen up as the day went on; that he’d actually say more than one word at a time. Otherwise, this was gonna be one awkward afternoon. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

After finding an empty table next to a window, in the corner of the quiet café, sakusa sat down - waiting for you to return with the coffees you ordered. He glanced out the window, head in his palm. He silently hoped that you were thinking the same thing he was; you felt the same nostalgia that he was feeling. This was the exact same place you used to sit together every day after school. The same scratch marks littered the painted wooden table. The same table that witnessed pivotal moments of your friendship. After finding where he was sitting, you carefully placed your coffee down onto the aforementioned table, placing his in front of him immediately after.

After sitting down, you brought the straw to your lips, taking the first sip of your drink. You let out a gasp that quickly garnered his attention. “Oh my god, I forgot how good their iced coffees were!” Your voice boomed with excitement, quickly taking another sip. He stifled a laugh at your childish enthusiasm. If he squinted, he could probably see the heart-shaped pupils in your eyes. “Yeah? That’s the caramel one right? Is that still your favorite?” He asked, shuddering when you held eye contact. He regretted his words the second they left his mouth, quietly beating himself up for how obsessed he sounded. He was pathetic. Your voice quietened, a teasing expression taking over your face. He already knew he was fucked before any words left your mouth.

“You know, for someone who hasn’t talked to me in years, you seem to remember all of my favorite things.” An embarrassed flush spread across his face, heating his cheeks at the implications. He cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “Well, you always did have bad taste. It’s hard to forget that.” He excused, lying through his teeth. It would be impossible for him to forget your favorite things, considering the amount of times you used to beg him to get them for you back then. He knew you more than he knew himself. You gasped again, feigning offense. “How dare you! Iced coffee is delicious!” you raised your hands as you spoke, outraged. He let out a huff of air: an almost-laugh. “Coffee should not be cold!” He spoke incredulously. He matched your tone, although he looked way more calm than you did. You rolled your eyes at him, “Coffee is best when it’s cold!” he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, “Clearly you haven’t tried this one!” You spoke matter-of-factly, waving the plastic cup in the air to structure your point, careful not to spill any. He scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink. “I don’t need to try every variation of iced coffee to know it sucks.” He stated, rolling his eyes at you. He gently placed his cup on the table, looking back up to you and noticing the outrage plastered across your face. He missed your dramatic banter. He was sure that if he really wanted to, he could close his eyes and pretend that nothing happened between the two of you. Because in this moment, it felt like you never stopped being friends. “Here- just try it!” you demanded, shoving your cup in his face, angling the straw in his direction. He stared for a moment, almost to make sure you were being serious, before taking the cup from your hands, and taking a sip of your coffee. His lips lingered on your straw for the longest second of your life.

He was silent for a while, putting you under the assumption that he was analysing the flavor. He didn’t give two shits about the coffee. With shaky hands, he placed your cup back down in front of you. His heart was racing. He stared at the table, not trusting what would happen if he made eye contact with you after what had just happened. He could feel his face twitching, trying to fight the blush that crept onto his ears. Your elbows rested on the table, barely inside his field of vision. You propped your head up, both hands under your chin as you waited for his feedback. Was he losing it, or were your hands trembling too? He cleared his throat again, his mind spiralling as he thought about the feeling of his lips on your straw. He was overreacting, he knew it. But he couldn’t help feeling this way when it came to you. You always found a way to make him feel like this. He hated it. How were you being so casual right now? Was it not as big of a deal as he thought it was? You laughed accusingly. “Look at your face! I knew you liked it!” You pointed at him, an evil grin filling out your cheeks. He didn't know much about how he was feeling in that moment, but one thing was for certain: it wasn't the coffee he liked.

"It's not terrible."

The rest of the afternoon went perfectly. Thankfully, despite the time that had passed, conversations between the two of you flowed as naturally as they used to. You stayed at the café until the second it closed. And if you had things your way, you would’ve stayed until the sunset. Every time silence passed over you, Sakusa rushed to fill it. Knowing that if he was left with his thoughts for even a second, he’d go back to replaying the indirect kiss you shared over and over again in his mind. Were you going as crazy as he was over it? He didn’t want to think of it. Before you went home, the two of you stood outside of the café doors, exchanging goodbyes. He didn’t have a chance to blink before you pulled him into a quick hug. It lasted maybe 3 seconds at most. It was one of those sweet embraces that caused you to squeeze him tightly right before pulling away. He would sooner die than admit to leaning into your touch.

“See ya next time, kiyoomi.” You spoke quietly, almost whispering.

He had his girl back.

a/n: SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!! i hope this chapter makes u guys as insane as i am because i was losing my mind while writing this LMAO

TAGLIST: @gojoed @anianurst @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69 @thepurpleempath @theauthorunicorn @v1oletfury @iluvmang @slashkxe @theycallmenanamisgirl @dailyakira @lunarlunaire @iovetooru @ryukumi @soupofmushrooms @megmercury @renardiererin @violetesensou @wtfdudewhydidyoutakemyusername @ast4rg1rl @dazqa @yoshit-he-dinosaur

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suniix · 1 year

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04 | miyamura x reader

synopsis | hori talks to miyamura and realizes where she stands. you can’t help but feel guilty because of a promise made long ago.

word count | 2k+

note | i don’t plan on making hori ‘the bad guy’ or have her bully the reader. yes she will be a little upset because miyamura doesn’t like her back but she won’t do anything to the reader. that trope (or wtv it’s called) is way too overused and i don’t like it 🧍‍♀️also i hate this chapter and i can’t wait to finish this series so i can rewrite and edit everything

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A week has passed since the first day of school and things are going smoother than you had initially expected.

Miyamura’s friends had adopted you into their group, though you felt closer to him than to anyone else. Even though they always included you, it felt as if there was a barrier between you and them. During lunch or group projects their conversations would flow naturally, so you’d never say a word unless someone spoke to you first, afraid that you’d make the conversation awkward. Usually it was Miyamura or Tooru who brought you into conversations.

It was to be expected though, it’s the last year of high school; friend groups had already been made and joining any would be a struggle. You were thankful for an easy way into a friend group and were prepared to face all the challenges thrown your way.

Things at home were going well too. You could definitely tell your grandma was happy to have company around the house and you were happy to be with her. You were especially happy about her cooking. Your parents never had time to cook or show you how to so you just stuck with eating out everyday. You also bought some decorations for your new room, which made you feel more comfortable.

As you slipped your shoes on you waved to your grandma goodbye and she reciprocated the action. “Have a good day at school dear.” She smiled.

You thanked her and stepped out of your home. Walking to and from school everyday has made you become familiar with the neighborhood. The first couple of times you almost got lost, but luckily you would find other students with the same uniform and you’d just follow them to school.

As soon as the school came into view your stomach growled. Shit.. I forgot to grab something for breakfast.. you patted your pocket and felt your wallet. Sighing in relief you pull it out and open it, seeing you had enough money to buy something.

Instead of walking straight into the school you take a turn for the school’s cafeteria, praying they were open. As you walked you enjoyed the school’s scenery. Despite being here for a week you haven’t gotten a chance to explore everywhere. Tooru only showed you your classroom and the school cafeteria.

As the doors to the cafeteria came up you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing an oval sign hanging from the door with big letters that read ‘open’. You pulled the door open and walked in, feeling cold air hit your cheeks.

The first thing you see is a familiar brown haired girl wearing a gray sweater with her back turned to you; it seemed like she didn’t hear you come in. You didn’t see anyone at the counter, but a vending machine was nearby. Browsing through the limited options you insert your money and press the buttons. Your snack falls and you fish it out from the bottom and slowly walk over to the girl.

“Hori?”

The girl turned to look at you and your suspicions were confirmed. Hori looks at you with mild surprise. “Oh! I didn’t expect to see you here so early.” She motions for you to sit in front of her and you do.

“Hey Hori! And yea, I keep forgetting to change my clock’s batteries so I wake up thinking I’m late but it’s actually super early. I can’t go back to sleep so might as well just head to school.”

Hori nods in understanding and takes a sip of her drink. She is sorta forgetful.. Hori notes.

An awkward silence calls upon the two of you. She awkwardly continues to drink her beverage while you eat your snack. Although you and Hori were part of the same group you never directly interacted with each other.

“So.. you and Miyamura know each other?”

“Mm?” You looked at her confused.

“Even though you just got here, you and Miyamura seem really close. Did you go to the same middle school?” She asks.

You notice how she avoids eye contact and slightly tightens her grip on her drink. Is she jealous?.. You ask yourself. That would explain her odd behavior around you.

“Not really. I ran into him the first day I moved here and he’s my neighbor, so I guess—”

“Wait! You guys are neighbors?” She slammed her drink down in surprise and you slightly jumped, startled by her random outburst.

“Yea? He lives in the apartment complex next to my grandma’s house.”

She hums and brings her drink back up to her lips, continuing to avoid eye contact. Shit, are they together? Does she think I’m trying to get in between them?.. You begin to slightly panic. You didn’t want to start any drama, you had barely been at this school for a week! Miyamura never mentioned anything about being in a relationship, at least nothing you can remember, and you never saw him acting lovey dovey with Hori.

“I’m sorry, are you and Miyamura in a relationship?” You ask timidly.

“What? No.. why are you asking?” She eyed you suspiciously.

“Ah, I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to take him from you. We only seem close because he was the first person I talked to, so I guess I just feel closer to him because of that.”

“Ah, I see.”

After that conversation the air seemed a little lighter. Hori no longer seemed as tense as she was before, but instead lost in thought. The two of you sat in a calm silence until the bell rang.

Hori stared at the sky while leaning on the balcony railing outside the classroom. Her thoughts take her back earlier to the conversation she had with you. Although you told her you didn’t know Miyamura that well, she felt there was something going on between the two of you, whether or not you were aware of it. She had questions, but she wasn’t sure you were the right person to ask. The door opened behind her, but she didn’t turn to look, already knowing who joined her outside.

“Are you feeling okay Hori?” Miyamura asked, walking up beside her.

He had noticed she seemed lost in thought all day, something had to be bugging her. He knew about her busy life outside of school, but normally she wouldn’t be this out of it.

“Do you like (Y/n)?”

Miyamura nearly choked on his spit at the sudden question, quickly turning to look at Hori. “Where did this come from?”

“I just feel like.. there’s something going on between the two of you.”

“Nothing is going on between us. It’s just that.. they’re someone that I used to know, someone I cared a lot for.”

Hori turns to look at him, slightly surprised. Although she suspected it she never thought he’d say it out loud. Hearing it made it feel real, like there was really a chance she’d lose him.

“It’s a long story, but.. when I was little, (Y/n) was the first person to walk up to me and become my friend. Then one day they told me their family was moving, but they made a promise to find me again. I doubt they remember me or the promise, but the fact they came back.. it feels nice.”

The look on Miyamura’s face was something she rarely saw. He seemed genuinely happy, hopeful even. The only time she saw him this happy was when they were together, alone. Now he has the exact same expression while talking about you and you’re not even here.

Hori turned away. “Why don’t you tell them?” She doesn’t know why she asked. Maybe she was curious, or maybe she still had hope he was moving on from you.

Miyamura shook his head, “I don’t want to pressure them into anything. If something happens, I want it to happen naturally and not just because they feel the need to fulfill a promise they made years ago.”

He turned to look over his shoulder, spotting you and Tooru laughing about something. Hori followed his stare and tried not to show how disappointed she was. She wasn’t disappointed at either of you, moreso the situation. You two had history, history that left such an impact on Miyamura he waited for years for a chance to see you again.

She could never compete with that.

“Alright, you have to finish the report as a group by the end of class, so start moving!”

Shit! Group work this early in the year? You quickly look around the room to see everyone partnering up with their friends. How well do I know Miyamura’s friends? Would it be weird if I just joined their group? They wouldn’t mind.. right?

A gentle tap on the shoulder broke you out of your thoughts. Turning to your left you see Miyamura smiling at you. “Can I be in your group?” He asks while holding back a laugh, though you don’t understand what’s so funny.

“Sure.” You smile.

The smile on Miyamura’s face remains as he brings his desk up to yours and soon the rest follow without any questions.

“Lend me a pen, Yoshikawa! You don’t need so many pens.”

“Don’t you dare take any of my pens!”

“Did anyone bring the material collections?” Hori asked, sighing when she noticed no one had them.

You watched the group work together while occasionally bickering about random things. Hori assigned everyone a part of the report while also keeping Yoshikawa and Tooru from fighting about pens.

While working you couldn’t help but bask in the atmosphere the group brought. It wasn’t suffocating and there wasn’t a need to keep the conversation going. The conversations they had were short and sweet and didn’t have you overthinking with what to respond with. You let go of your thoughts and let yourself get carried away in the light conversations, enjoying the laughter of the group.

After everything was complete Hori gathered everyone’s part of the report and stapled it together before handing it to the teacher. The five of you relaxed together, mindlessly talking about the newest trends and any new music.

You barely said a word, happy with just watching the group enjoy each other. As you watched the group laugh cheerfully you didn’t notice Miyamura had his eyes on you the whole time.

The end of the day came sooner than you expected.

The group assignment left you feeling a little more connected to the group. Your fears were proven untrue, the group had wordlessly included you in the group project and no conversations turned awkward after you spoke.

By the time you left school the sky was beginning to turn a slight orange. Miyamura walked by your side as the two of you walked towards his bakery, something he had begun to do occasionally after school. Oftentimes it was when he promised to bake you something.

You stare out the window of the bakery, watching as a group of middle schoolers walk past, laughing with each other. You’re lost in thought, not noticing Miyamura had taken a seat in front of you.

“What’s up?”

“What?” You turn away from the window to see Miyamura has his full attention on you.

“You look like you have something on your mind. Did something happen earlier?” He asks.

“Oh, no not really. It’s just that..” You hesitate, trying to figure out how to formulate your words.

Miyamura says nothing, waiting for you to collect yourself. The whole time his eyes are on you, a gentle smile on his lips. You can’t help but feel at ease around him.

“When I was little, there was this boy. I heard from other kids that he was a loner, so I befriended him. Not long after though I had to move and leave him behind. Every time I hang out with you guys I feel guilty, like I don’t deserve to be happy after I left him alone, you know?” You stare down at the table and fiddle with your fingers. You know Miyamura would disagree with you, but you were still scared.

Miyamura hums, processing what you just said. Part of him was happy, you remembered him! Well, you partially remembered him. If you truly remembered him you would’ve known he was that boy you befriended. Had he really changed so much to the point you didn’t recognize him?

The other part of him felt guilty. He didn’t want you to feel bad for leaving him behind, it wasn’t your fault. The past is in the past and you’re here now in the present with him. You found your way back to him and that’s all that matters.

“I don’t think he’d mind.”

You stop fidgeting with your fingers and look up at him. His eyes are still on you, unwavering. You knew he was right, but hearing him actually say it made you feel better.

“I’m sure he would’ve wanted you to make friends, and I’m sure that by now he’s found his own group of friends, so don’t feel guilty.”

His smile was contagious. You turned to look out the window and see the group of middle schoolers was long gone.

“Yea, I guess you’re right.”

thank you for reading till the end! :D

taglist | @swtstrwbrri @aizawa-hatake @nagiswifey1

#hori san to miyamura kun #horimiya #horimiya x reader #izumi miyamura #izumi miyamura x reader #miyamura x reader #[📝 sunni writes]

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pinguwrites · 11 months

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Kinktober 2023 | Day Sixteen — William Killick + face riding

Pairing -> william killick x wife!reader

Warnings -> kinda dom kinda sub!william, mention of overstimulation, oral sex, the whole reason I did this one was bc I was chatting to my william bot and he was like "sit on my face" and I was like 🥵

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

“Ride my face,” William demanded. He lay down on the bed, his pale eyes gazing into your own with unbridled lust. “C’mon, I want to taste it.”

You covered your body in response, even though you were already naked. For some reason, his words made you feel nervous and shy. He always made you feel like that. It was like the moment you got used to his passionate nature he pulled something new out of thin air, leaving you with nothing but stuttering words and a flustered face.

“William,” you said hesitantly. “What if I smother you?”

He laughed and beckoned you closer. “Then I’ll die the happiest man in the world.”

Your face fell and you swatted away his hand. “I’m serious, I don’t want to suffocate you.”

William laughed, almost a giggle. “You won’t. If I was actually dying you don’t think I could stop you?”

“But it would be embarrassing—”

“Why?” William asked, his eyebrows narrowed a little. “You think it’s embarrassing when your husband pleasures you?”

You averted your eyes. “N-no. I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then ride my face.” William laid back down on the bed, his lips parted, his hands stretched out to grab your hips. “Sit, darling. You’ll like it, I promise.”

You nodded your head and hovered your pussy over his face. You hesitated before lowering yourself, until you could feel his lips brush your clit and you backed out. You really were scared of hurting him. You didn’t want to make this awkward if this didn’t turn out well, but when William noticed you hadn’t settled yourself on him, he pulled your hips down and shoved your pussy in his face.

You let out a surprised gasp as he ravished you, sucking on your clit, shoving his tongue inside your pussy, all with the most heavenly muffled groans.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips a little. “Sorry!” you quickly apologized, but William was having none of it, and started swaying your hips back and forth, encouraging you to continue.

Once you realized this wasn’t hurting him, you started grinding, rubbing your sensitive body on his lips. “Oh,” you moaned, your eyes glazed over. “Mmm, William.”

You looked down, wanting to see his face. He looked beautiful like this, focused in concentration, jaw moving with precision. He noticed you looking and looked back up at you, his eyes filled with love.

“Y-you’re so pretty,” you praised. “I love you.”

He let out another groan at that, repaying your words by continuing his task.

Eventually he made you orgasm. He swallowed up your cum without any complaint, keeping your hips firmly in place until he finished. For a moment, you were worried he was going to overstimulate you, but he didn’t, and released his grip.

You got off of him and wiped his face with a nearby towel. “Are you okay?”

William nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Thank you for letting me do that. I'm gonna ask for it again, you know?”

You chuckled. “I know.”

He kissed your lips softly, cuddling next to you in bed. “And . . . I love you, too.”

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@henrywintersdearestgirl

#william killick x y/n #william killick x you #william killick x reader #the edge of love #cillian murphy #pinguwrites #fanfiction #william killick #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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xiaosenthusiast · 17 days

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prologue

yn put her phone on silent and set it down next to her. she took a peek at the man sitting beside her, hoping he’d say something. anything. but she knew him, so she also knew he wasn’t going to say anything. so she bit the bullet and spoke first.

“so…pretty crazy thing that just happened, didn’t it?”

xiao finally glanced at her, sighing quietly and bringing his hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose.

“it’s crazy, sure. but why did it happen? how did it happen?”

“amazing questions! i have an explanation. i do. you saw the situation first hand, didn’t you? i just needed to say something…”

“then why didn’t you just reject it? why resort to such a childish method? and most importantly, why resort to me?”

to this, the girl didn’t have an answer. well, she did; but she still had self respect for herself, she wasn’t about to humiliate herself for the second time in a row that day.

“you just…happened to walk into the room and my mouth moved faster than i could think. “

to this, the boy shook his head and crossed his arms before speaking again. “what if i wasn’t the one to walk into the room? would you have said you liked them instead?”

she paused and went silent, knowing she wouldn’t have said anybody else’s name; but before he could even question her silence, she nodded. “of course! like i said, you were just the one to walk in. which i’m honestly grateful for…if it was anybody else, this situation would’ve been super awkward.”

“you really think this isn’t an awkward situation?”

she quickly shut her mouth and looked away, he sighed and started to speak again.

“i think you’re better off telling him the truth though. if he tells anyone then people will think we’re dating. i also don’t want anyone to think that.”

she flinched at the end of his sentence, nodding along with his words and pretending they didn’t just cut her spirits in half. “aye aye captain…”

and with that, xiao stood up from his spot and left. not giving yn another glance as he quietly shut the door behind him. once he had left the room, yn let out a sigh she had been holding in.

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🎀 ; lowkey why is this cringey

#fake it till u make it — series #adeptus xiao #genshin x reader #genshin x you #modern au #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin smau #genshin impact xiao #xiao x y/n #xiao smau #xiao #smau #social media au

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setsugekka · 1 year

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『atarashī 』 ; 08

❝ walking on glass ❞ | mlist ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [7,2k wc] ch cws: smut, unhinged jealous behavior, tough conversations, retribution finally 💀

Yeosang comes home eventually. You try to be happy about that fact.

The truth of the matter, however, is that your husband being around produces difficulty in your life now. Time not spent at the office now often spent nervous, anxious at home. Inside of you, always a peculiar but understood twisting of discomfort in your gut. This is your own doing, you brought this upon yourself and you know that, but it doesn't change the fact.

You'll live with this forever, in all likelihood. Each and everyday an uncomfortable wondering if today is the one when Yeosang finds out about all of the nasty things you've been doing without him, behind his back. A quiet torture enacted not only onto you, but to him as well.

And your husband starts out so pleased about being with you once more too. It starts this way, though slowly devolves into something else which each passing day. Suppose there's something there, something behind the idea of his knowing you in a way that other men, other people simply don't—can't—because he has been by your side for so long, so many of your developmental years into adulthood shared together. Yeosang knows how you work on an intricate, fundamental level. He was there when you came into yourself, so how wouldn't he?

But your shortness with him becomes gravely apparent, and over time, he becomes none pleased by it. A month is a long time to be gone, Yeosang must know and understand that to some degree. It's far from the first time he has been away for such an extended trip, and each time things are stilted upon his return. A getting to know one another again period of awkwardness even between lovers, even between husband and wife. He has always taken it in stride, been understanding of the fact, but the two of you often find that it's nothing a bottle of wine and two rounds between the sheets can't take care of.

Except now you have little to no interest in having sex with Yeosang.

Not for lack of trying, but there's a pointedly repulsed itch that creeps into your skin with every initiation that your husband makes. Gentle touches on your neck that once would drive you wild now make you pull away in disgust and leave bewilderment across his features that you try to ignore, try to pretend that you don't see. Because seeing it makes you feel badly, and you don't need any additional help on that front.

Two nights earlier and in the shared shower, Yeosang slots his hand between your legs and presses teeth and tongue against your neck in just the way that he knows you like it. Except you don't like it. Not anymore.

The oldest adage in the book: it's not you, it's me.

Because every time Yeosang touches you, Hongjoong is the one that comes to mind. Every kiss Yeosang gifts to you reminds you of Hongjoong's lips and where they've been in the meantime, where yours have been too.

Even in the moments where you don't actively crave to be with another, everything Yeosang does causes you to think of him regardless. How could it not? An undeniable truth.

Cozied up on the couch together and late into the evening after dinner, the television in front displays a show that you've seen the reruns of perhaps a thousand times. A candle on the table flickers with a gentle, romantic ambiance, and your husband resides beside you with the closest hand resting on your thigh.

Now that it's been some time that Yeosang has been back, you as well, have slotted back into your normal routine. Normal as if he weren't there at all. Normal, because you can't possibly stay away.

He's not said anything about it, but the contention festering is obvious. Greetings back home in the afternoons becoming shorter and more stilted, questions about your day coming in less frequently—which you're thankful for—because you find yourself to be running out of lies to tell him. Being at the office all day isn't good enough for a man who knows precisely where that is, and can come to check up on your whereabouts with ease.

But something is off, and your husband, ever perceptive as he is, very much knows it.

"What do you have going on this week," he says suddenly, over the sound of muted laugh track from the television and turning to face you. "Was thinking we could take a few days and go somewhere. Nothing lavish or expensive, just something for the two of us to reconnect."

"Reconnect?"

Yeosang's chin falls down towards his chest, a bashful looking away from you but comes back up just as quickly with a small smile across his lips.

"I can tell there's...something amiss between us, and after everything between us and my absence trust me, I don't really blame you for that, but I want to get it back to how it was before. I miss you, I love you. I miss us."

The words make your chest feel as though it's caving in, because around your heart now sit erected walls that have tricked you into believing that you care so little for this man that it doesn't matter what you do, or who you do it with.

They come crashing down in an instant.

The third class has their play at the end of the week, Hongjoong's garment will be on display. You can't possibly miss it.

"I can't this week." Or any week. "We have a really important showing at the theater." What if he forgets me? Loses interest in the meantime?

Yeosang's hand slips further between your thighs but not exactly with any intent behind it. A slightly mischievous smile takes his lips, sure, but no huge effort made.

"Are you sure it's nothing that the staff and the Akademiya can't handle?"

Of course it is, but you can't stand the idea of not being there for numerous reasons, and none of them you're especially proud of. The girl that Hongjoong has fitted for that gown will be on full display too, and you hate the way thinking about her makes you feel in regards to him. Jealous for no reason, no room to be feeling the way you do and yet doing so so carelessly and fully.

"I can't, I have to be there. The student I've been working with is showing something so—"

"You're spending an awful lot of time with that guy as of late."

Yeosang cuts you off with the revelation, but it's the saying as much that's enough in and of itself to ensure that the rest of the sentence dies out before it ever sees the light of day between you. So he has noticed. So he has been paying attention.

So you haven't been as clever as you'd like to make yourself believe.

His attention turns back to the television ahead, though not without a pointed glance out of the corner of his eyes towards you. Your heart beats hard and fast within your chest, thinking this is it, this is the end, this is when everything you've done up until now finally comes crashing down and suffocating you. This is when you'll finally reap what you've spent so much time sowing.

But it never does. Your husband silences, calmly goes back to watching the show as it plays. You find, however, that this dredges up a whole different collection of feelings inside of you now—anger, bitterness—of course I've found something else to do, you're never here.

"I had to find something to do, didn't I?"

The words are biting, cutting in tone and delivery as they fall from your mouth and certainly are received as such if Yeosang's slow, calculated look towards you again is any indication. Unexpected. Blindsided, because he hadn't thought himself to be starting a fight.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," you answer back quickly, turning your attention back to the forgotten show now. "It means nothing."

"It obviously means something," Yeosang continues forward. "I've been gone for a while, I get it, you've kept yourself busy and that's fine—"

He pauses for a second, you feel his eyes still on you though.

"Guess I'm just beginning to wonder what all it is that you've been keeping yourself busy with."

Your attention snaps back to him in an instant with those words. "And what's that supposed to mean?" You know the implications behind the words, however.

Yeosang looks at you as if he can see through all of it. Knows everything there is to know already but just can't dare say the words out loud. Doesn't want to be wrong, but even more than that, doesn't want to be right.

"All I'm saying is that things have been...different," he replies, softer in tone. Non-accusatory now, or at least less so, but the initial impact of it still sits heavy on you all the same. "It's never easy after so long, I understand that, but I do wonder—"

"Wonder what?"

There's a few moments of silence between you and your husband before he parts his lips to answer, but eventually, he does.

"Wonder what's so important about this guy—this student—that he requires so much of your time and attention. I'm all for you taking up projects while I'm away, but now that I'm here..."

You roll your eyes. "He's not a project, my God."

"Then what is he, exactly?"

The way that Yeosang reminds you to vividly of the fact that Hongjoong is a student of the Akademiya feels so pointed, to help you in the case of long having since forgotten that fact and in an attempt to correct the path that you've long since strayed from. A student, not your student, but someone in which you should have no such personal involvement all the same.

Your nerves feel electric, like any touch could set you on fire. Queasy in stomach but fighting back the fact. Yeosang doesn't know, he couldn't, not with any definitive proof.

It feels as though he does regardless.

"Someone that I'm helping." Someone that I crave, someone that craves me. Someone that I need and cannot possibly see a future where I don't have him in precisely the way that I do now, and behind your back.

"I'm sure he'll be fine for a few days without you being there," Yeosang mutters back under his breath. Not letting the original idea go so easily. His hand makes itself known on your leg once more, inches up slowly towards somewhere more intimate. "I miss you. Want to get us back on track."

Your husband leans in closer then, removes the distance between your bodies and mouths gently at your jaw in just the way that he knows you like as his fingers find their mark elsewhere.

If you just give in, you can move on from this.

"I have to be there for the showing."

Stripped bare and laid out on the couch, Yeosang nestles himself between your knees just as he has so, so many times before. Finger tightly pressed inside of you with a slow, deft drive that is so easy to get lost in because in part, you have very much forgotten what the touch of your husband feels like. By now, and with so many instances past, your body knows something different, only knows Hongjoong, but the familiarity of such serves as a reminder of how much you have missed the feeling of him after all with hips rolling down against his hand to meet the friction further.

"There you go," Yeosang coos, a breathy whisper that makes your skin tingle from below. "See? Just needed a reminder, huh?"

He leans down over your body then, kisses your lips with a hungry urgency then slips down to nip at your ear. Back arching and whine falling from you as he continues to stretch you open for what's soon to come.

You can't help but wonder if he can tell.

"When I'm gone so long, you're all I can think about," Yeosang says against your skin, hand settling into a pace that feels akin to slowly fucking you properly, like he's taking you along with him for the fantasy he is soon to indulge you with. "When it's late at night and I'm finished with work, I go back to my hotel and make myself come, still thinking about you and only you."

The thought of it drives you crazy, crazier than you might have imagined it would, bucking up into his hand to chase more of what he's giving you.

"Can you believe that? Seven years together and I still want you just as desperately as I did the first time—"

Yeosang pauses, gently pulls his fingers from you and shifts his hips. Replaces the emptiness with the blunt prod of himself and teases at the prospect of filling you once more. "How about you let me show you just how badly I missed you while I was away?"

Fingers gripping into the skin of his toned, muscular arms as Yeosang buries himself into you; slow, methodical strokes until all resistance falls away and the glide is easy inside. One hard, full push to renders the both of you hip to hip, he stills there for a moment—leans back over to your lips and captures them into his own with a needy groan that makes your nerves feel electric under your skin. The wanting, the needing of you and your body to be had by him and his.

It drives you crazy, and still, you think of Hongjoong.

You push the thoughts back, focus on all of the ways that this is different; Yeosang far more fit in stature, your fingers run over the dips and divots of muscle in his arms and back as he withdraws and sinks into you again, repeatedly, settles into a pace that suits the both of you—firm but slow, so that you can feel every inch of him pressing against your insides.

"Come away with me for a couple of days," he says again, not letting the topic go still. One hand slipping between your bodies to run circles into the place just above where the two of you meet. A leveraging tactic, how can you refuse? "Let me make up for all of the lost time—" he pauses, focuses on getting just the right pressure on you so that you're moaning and whimpering beneath him for more. Sighing his name, gripping nails into his skin. "There's so much I want to do to you, if I'm honest, the way I crave your body is a bit...depraved."

God, you want him badly, and he knows all of the ways to get you there, as expected. Yeosang fucks into you harshly then, the prospect of perhaps new and unexplored things between you igniting something inside of the both of you, and teetering on the edge of release, biting into the bottom of your lip, you writhe beneath him but still don't relent.

"I—I can't, fuck, 'Sang."

Your husband doesn't reply in words, though you hear something of a sigh followed by another harsh and pointed snap of his hips against you.

"Want to fuck you like I hate you," he whispers into your mouth. "Want that? Have you coming around my dick like you mean nothing to me, just a warm hole for me to fuck."

The answer is yes, but underneath it is the nagging feeling that this is strange. Too much pent up trouble in the marriage that hasn't found resolution just yet to be divulging in such a fantasy and expecting it to be left as nothing more than that. Yeosang's drives into you are hard and fast now, no doubt already settling into the thought of doing as much—he is fucking you like he's angry with you, like he hates you. Worse than that, you're loving every second of it.

The answer is yes, because I hate myself just as much, if not more than you could ever hate me.

You come first, but only by a split second margin as your husband follows shortly behind and with a low, almost pained groan as he does. Deeply buried inside of you, teeth gritted against your neck. If you didn't know any better, you might think this to be some strange, pathetically masculine attempt at staking his claim over you once more.

When breaths are caught and limbs begin to untangle from each other, Yeosang begins to pull up and away from you first—a face of features that are telling of his mind being somewhere, elsewhere, not entirely sharing the space where you two currently reside. You catch his attention before he slinks away completely, remind him to kiss you in the aftermath of this, and he plays off the fact of having forgotten with a small, huffed out laugh.

And so he does kiss you—full and loving just like all of the times before, but something is amiss still. A reluctance, a fissure created between you in the split seconds that have just transpired.

It can all happen so quickly.

Yeosang sits back on his heels between your legs, runs a hand through his hair and then fishes around for his pants that had been dropped down below and onto the floor. His eyes glance everywhere, for everything—they never find yours though.

You watch him from where you lie, the awkwardness and discomfort displayed in each and every motion he makes. Like he's trying to hurry and dress, like he wants nothing more than to escape the scenario that he created himself.

Escape you.

"Yeosang," you finally say, calm and airy. Already questioning but non-accusatory in delivery. It's enough to finally get his busy hands to still, face pulling upwards to look upon you, but there's a guilt that rests on his features that you've not quite seen before.

"Do you hate me?"

He scoffs at that, gently rolls himself off of the couch and from between your legs to gather together all of your shared belongings from the floor and sort through them. He gently pulls together your shirt, your pants...folds them neatly atop the cushion just next to you despite logically understanding that you are to put them back on shortly anyway, and that in theory, he is wasting his time.

But his thoughts obviously aren't there with you, with this evening, with anything that has just transpired. Evidenced in everything he does, and everything—no matter how little—he says.

The silence is deafening, the lack of response from him. Yeosang dresses himself and then reaches down for a glass of water that's sitting on the table, hands it to you as if it's meant to be some sort of peace offering. Still no answer to your question, still nothing given outside of small acts of deflection.

When his eyes fall on your again—yours still glued onto him, expectant for an answer to the question laid out—you watch him fall limp and resigned to the fact that he can't escape it. Part of you wonders how you got here, how this got to far, but realistically, you sort of know. A cocktail of scenarios, and while he is far from blameless, what sits you and your marriage on the precipice of destruction is not your husband's inability to love you, or relent to you; because he has done both of those already.

It is your insistence on punishing him for it.

Yeosang's arm remains extended to you with the glass in hand, jerks it gently in an attempt to get you to take it from him whilst not spilling the liquid inside, and then sighs.

"Don't ask such silly questions."

On the day of the class presentation, you feel as though you're sitting atop cloud nine.

Evening showings are nothing unheard of, and on days when they are to take place, much of Aurelia is empty save for the handful of students uninvolved and still using the empty spaces for their own projects, the collective of them involved in the play itself, and little more. Most will arrive much later, closer to the time that it is meant to go on, but more than that—it serves as something of a half day for you.

Thus, you spend the earlier hours of the day out and about, running small errands that need to get finished. On the streets the weather is far from inviting; windy and cold and slightly rainy as if the combination of them is meant to serve you in some way. Regardless, things must get done, and the large supply store just down the street and sitting at the corner has you thankful for its relative closeness, all things considered.

Stepping inside, you're greeted by a member of the staff who idly works at the front and behind the register. Quiet music plays over the speakers is the only thing that cuts through the monotony of your surroundings; rows upon rows of uncut but neatly filed fabrics that drape and color the aisles, giving life to the insides of the place, and though you're pleased by the sight, it's a sound that catches your ears and has your anxiety trickling up and across your flesh.

A voice you recognize, and one that you do not.

Hushed giggles and the delicate sounds of rustling pique your interest, there are other people here though it feels to be nearly an impossible task to ever locate them among the insides of the establishment. You carry forward, because you know one of the voices. Curiosity getting the best of you, perhaps in the worst of times.

Further towards the back and not far off from the backroom, the movement stills—feet planted in place on the other side of a wall of fabric, and although you're not able to see anything, you can certainly hear everything with little interruption, and what you hear causes your blood to run cold through your veins.

The voice that you recognize whispers something to the other—the other—a girl’s voice, a giggle in response to whatever it is that he has said. Too hushed to make out even in spite of your proximity to them, that is until he raises it just ever so slightly.

"—let me use you for future projects, I'll make it worth your while again."

It's so flirtatious, so full of salaciousness dripping from tone on every single word. You've heard it before, so many times before, and hearing it here, now, not intended for you, boils the rage and jealousy and hurt inside of you to the point that you can't fathom an outcome where you act rationally. Because acting rationally would mean to quietly let this go, leave now, call things off for good.

But you can't, because you are irrationally succumbed to him.

Twisting around the corner suddenly, the both of them look at you, though it's only Hongjoong that your eyes are set for. This isn't her fault—the other girl—and in so many ways it's already bad enough that she will bear witness to this display that will be so telling, explain so much but leave so many questions as well.

Anger clouds your judgement though, sends you into a whirlwind of you barreling towards him—in tears, livid—everything all at once and so strongly that you can't pull it back at all. The girl—another student—asks questions, wonders what's going on as you grit through teeth and ask him what this is, what he's doing. Hands fly, though you can barely tell whose and from where or for what purpose, you don't intend to put yours on him out of anger, but you could very easily understand why he might think that, all things considered.

It all happens so fast, and the next thing you know Hongjoong is tearing you out of there and away from that girl; down the street and towards the building of his apartment that you've grown so familiar with over such little time. He drags you along, though it's barely a tug that you aren't stumbling along with anyway. Broken, defeated, but even more than those—humiliated. How will you explain this if that girl goes to the admin board? How will you explain it if she just as easily whispers among friends, who will whisper among theirs?

How will you explain this to Hongjoong? But worst of all, how do you explain this to yourself?

During the short ride up the elevator, you and Hongjoong stand at opposite ends of the small enclosure, attempting to maintain as much space as possible from the other. Both wet and disheveled—you more so than him—he stands with arms crossed over his chest and you, in the corner with yours limp to your sides, huff out a laugh. At all of this, at yourself, most of all.

You bring a hand up to your head, palm over your forehead. Disbelieving of how you allowed it to get like this.

"Who is she?"

Hongjoong doesn't grace your question with a reply.

"Is the she girl from the play? The one we talked about? The one that you fitted?"

Sarcastic emphasis on the last word, as if now understanding that that means something very different in the grand scheme of things. He still doesn't answer, however.

"How many are you seeing? Three? Nine? The whole class and the theater owner on top of it for a little spice?"

"She's just a friend," Hongjoong finally says, the elevator reaching its destination at his floor. "Am I not allowed to have friends? Go out with classmates? Didn't you once tell me I should?"

You scoff as he drags you from the small space and down the hall towards his apartment. "You're a fucking liar."

To that he stops, dead in his tracks and turns to look at you with narrow, somewhat amused eyes.

"I'm the liar?"

You swallow hard, attempting to dislodge the lump in your throat that has accumulated there as a result of all of this. Hongjoong never brings up your marriage nor your infidelity in such a way that is meant to make you feel bad, or guilty for the goings on between the two of you—but now, less than his words, his gaze does precisely that before turning again and shoving keys into the lock of his door.

"I don't want to do this anymore." The words come out before you even really think about them, what they mean, whether or not you're even capable of following through with them.

Hongjoong opens the door, pushes you inside like he's done hearing about this, dealing with this altogether. Enters after, shuts the door, locks it, and then just as swiftly has your back hard against the wood with a bang to punctuate it. He kisses you; needy and sloppy and full of teeth nipped into the bottom of your lip in just the way that always has you melting beneath him. A hand slipping up your leg and disappearing under your skirt all the while.

The kiss leaves you breathless when he finally pulls away, as if pulling all of the oxygen from your lungs himself. You try to focus on your conviction, how sure you are about ending this, how badly all of this is now making you feel while deft fingers dig between your legs and find their mark.

"Okay, go back to your boring life." Hongjoong kisses you again, pulls back only enough to turn you around to face the door, multitasking the removal of your undergarments and the freeing of himself from his. He presses his body firm against your back, lips only barely unable to find the shell of your ear—warm breath and tone dropping in all of the ways that have you so weak for him. And he knows it, too.

"End it, never see me again, but I know you won't do that and you know why?" His fingers press deeper inside, curling just right, and you moan out as a result of it—hips pressing down and against him for more. "Because you hate your life without me in it, and you may hate yourself with it but it's an easy trade-off, isn't it?" Hongjoong then settles for the more rhythmic guide of his hand against your insides, simulates the way he often fucks you, reminds you of it in explicit detail as you whine out against the wood in front of you.

"Because at least hating yourself gets you off, hating your life doesn't."

"Fuck you." You say the words but there's little conviction in them between how badly you're wanting for him, even now. Hongjoong knows it, smirks at the sound as he continues the drive of his hand while watching you come unraveled against him.

"Now that'll make you happy, won't it?"

"I hate you."

"Something like that, sure," Hongjoong agrees, partially. Pulls his hand from you and replaces the emptiness with the firm, blunt tip of himself and uses a hand to jut your hips out for him just right. "You want me to fuck you?"

But you don't want to say it, don't want to admit that there is truth there. You do, obviously you do, there's nothing else you ever want and it's all you ever think about when not engaged in the very act of him fucking you, but now of all times it feels worse to admit as much. Hongjoong understands you—knows you—on such a viscerally deep level that it makes your skin tingle with discomfort. The feeling of being held under a microscope and carefully picked apart for his viewing pleasure, as if it's all just been some sort of bizarre experiment to him, never meaning anything more than seeing how far he can make you fall and with how much effort required from him to achieve it.

He's right, in everything he says. That makes you queasy, though not enough to dispel your lust for him. As usual, nothing does.

You arch your back, push against him but Hongjoong doesn't allow you to do so. Holds you in place, doesn't carve his way inside of you like he might normally under such circumstances where you want him. Instead he waits, smooths a hand up your back and settles it firm against your shoulder as if with intent to use the leverage to pull you down and onto him.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Christ," you gasp out, growing tired of the way he seems intent of humiliating you further.

"Then say it, say you want me to fuck you."

"I want you to fuck me!"

Blurting the words out, irritated and biting, Hongjoong grants you your wish just as promised and fills you from behind with a single, sharp snap of his hips and the added bonus of pulling you back and down against him halfway. Unable to fight back the moan, you instead attempt to muffle your cries against an arm that helps keep you steady against the door panel, though it helps little with the relentless roughness and pace being driven into you by the man that you only hate the second most out of everyone in the room.

But it feels almost better than it usually does. Hongjoong fucks you like he hates you, like he knows that you hate him, and it only makes the drag of him against your insides feel that much better. Each stroke of himself punching a sound of desperation from your throat and quickly barreling you towards a tightening in your abdomen in result.

Dizzyingly quick, Hongjoong pulls out of you, drags you off of the door and to the side against a table barely sturdy enough for what it is about to endure. He turns you to face him, sets you up atop it and smoothly reenters you as if never having moved at all. Hands wrapped in hair and mouths desperately tasting at one another—being face to face with him once again as he fucks you only reminds you even more that you are next to hopeless at escaping him. How are you meant to and still remain wholly intact?

"Fuck, you feel so—"

"There you go, that's right," he whispers against your mouth, cuts you off mid-sentence, still delivering fast and hard drives of himself into you in an effort to quickly push you over the edge and having you coming undone for him like so many times before. "Say my name. Tell me how it's me and only me."

And you do, pathetically so.

"Do anything for me, throw everything away to have me. You wouldn't be the first—"

Just one of many, you wonder how many before you have fallen just like you.

His mouth trickles down, teeth grazing your jaw as he feels you tighten around him and your moans air out into silent screams with how you're soon to come.

"But maybe you can be the last."

Favorite.

You whimper out that you're close, knowing he can feel it without the verbal prompt. His drives into you slow a bit, more focused, more careful—wanting you to feel every bit of him even if it means prolonging your release—it hardly does though, because he feels heavenly even like this inside of you. Languid, purposeful glides paired with the pertinent deep press firmly against your walls so that you can feel everything before another withdraw, and then doing it all over again.

His name falls from your lips again, a begging of sorts as your fingers curl up into the brown hair that lies at the back of his head—hips attempting to grind down for more, to feel more of him, to have more of him at all times.

He has you wrapped around his finger, has for a long time.

"Maybe I came here just for you," Hongjoong says, whispers it against the damp skin of your neck before sucking gently into the very same place. "Already had you in my crosshairs—" his lips travel upwards towards your ear, he whispers a playful "bang" to drive home the point. "How indisposed are you with me that the thought of it doesn't even scare you—"

It doesn't.

"Thrills you instead."

It does.

You come then, a silent cry with any chance of sound caught in the dryness of your throat as Hongjoong fucks you slowly, earnestly, thoroughly through it and the words gifted to you by him hanging startlingly at the forefront of your mind all the while.

Is this an admission of horrific wrongdoing on his part? So sure in your obsession with him that even telling you as much will result in the same thing that it always has: you, here, laid out beneath him and open for his taking emotionally, mentally, physically. In all ways.

He chose you.

Still nestled between your legs, Hongjoong kisses you, though this time calmer, more passionate. Hands cradling each side of your face to hold you perfectly in place for receiving his adoration of you. Always so openly consumed by you, addicted to you just as you have been with him.

But even in the aftermath of all of this, something itches beneath your skin. A need, something that goes so far beyond a desire.

Self destruction.

"I'll never get away from you."

Hongjoong smiles against your lips as you whisper the words to him, so simple but so apt still. Arms dropping to circle around your back, he pulls you into a tight embrace, sets his forehead against yours to bring the two of you so close that your eyes cross in an attempt to see him.

"Did I tell you," he says, tone void of almost any discernible emotion, and especially jarring in the aftermath of everything that has just transpired. "That you've done so well..."

Silence sits between the two of you for a moment, and for a second, he is nearly unrecognizable to you.

"I've been offered three senior positions, and it's all thanks to you."

Behind the closed door of your office, busy students are still easily heard running about to make their final preparations before the show. It serves you well—their nerves—matching your own in a way. The heavy, vibrant thrum of anxiety that courses through you with each passing second, no reprieve from it at all, only getting worse as the time beats on.

It's not going to get better, not until it gets worse still. You've made peace with that. Made peace with it a long time ago, in fact. A truth you've not wanted to take on face-to-face, much like other things and people you've opting out of engaging with much in the same way.

A student yells something just outside the door—your heart jumps into your throat despite it not being for you, not being for either of you—but you are faced towards the back of the room, not your guest. You don't particularly need to see him to know precisely how his judging eyes fall upon you anyway.

You've not said the words, but a part of you figures that he knows well enough without them anyway.

"Are you ready to tell the truth?"

Words you didn't grace with a reply over the phone, but now that Seonghwa is standing here, with you, with all of the horrible, nervous energy that you have manifested, that exudes from you, suppose you have little other option.

You can't do this forever, that was never an option. A fool’s errand to begin this, thinking it could end in anything other than precisely the way that it shall.

Throat dry, hoarse, and no thanks to even the exact engagements you'd been involved with earlier in the day, you take a deep breath as you gather yourself, gather your thoughts, and then exhale slowly with intention to finally—for once—tell the truth.

"I've been seeing someone."

Being unable to face Seonghwa as you own up to this grave misdoing is unsurprising of a coward, and Seonghwa doesn't grace you with a response for a few moments at first. His breaths silent, no subtle shift to the way that he stands.

"I kind of figured." He sighs. "How long?"

"A month? Two? It all sort of happened so fast."

"Who is it?"

Then you turn to face him—find him with arms crossed over his chest and staring into the floor in front of him until he realizes that you've finally found him. Seonghwa looks up at you through his lashes, barely, but glances back down just as quickly.

"That um—" you start, losing your nerve before you can even get to the words. Tone dropping along with volume and eyes falling to the floor much like the man ahead of you. "That Akademiya student I told you about a while back. The guy from the cafe when we were out with Mingi."

"The twenty-five year old?" Seonghwa questions, not only surprise but unbridled judgment lacing his tone that makes your stomach turn, though you're deserving of it. "The guy from the cafe? The guy that Mingi was talking about?" The puzzle pieces seemingly fitting together in real time inside of Seonghwa's mind with those words spoken aloud. "Oh wow, you fucked him there, didn't you? While we were waiting for you and you went to the bathroom."

You nod, barely any movement behind it, staring out and focusing on nothing in particular while you're taken with grief.

Hand through his hair, Seonghwa sighs like everything has happened to him just as much as it has you now. Dragged into your mess, in a way. Perhaps you really had done him the favor in not telling him to begin with.

"Okay, so now what? Is it over?"

"I think I love him."

Those words send Seonghwa spiraling in an instant; features scrunching together in such an ugly, displeased way that you don't often see from him. He reels in place, arms falling limp like he's about to give up on this whole conversation altogether if you say one more asinine thing within in.

"Oh, give me a fucking break." He looks at you, eyes finally meeting with a stern insistence. "You don't love the twenty-five year old costuming student from the Akademiya, do you hear yourself?" A roll of his eyes finds you then. "You love the way he fucks your brains out, you're enamored by him and the way he makes you feel when you don't have to think about it that hard, but you're not in love with him, Christ."

It stings to hear, but by this point in the conversation you're barely still engaging. This isn't what you want, though it's probably what you need, and even though Seonghwa's words are harsh, you hadn't really gone into this conversation anticipating him to pat you on the back for all of your mistakes, anyway.

Another student yelling out for another on the other side of the closed doors cuts through the thick blanketing of guilty silence that seems intent on suffocating you inside of this office.

"I don't know if I can stay with Yeosang," you say then, all but ignoring everything that your closest friend has just said to you. "I don't know that I still love him."

"What's your plan then? Leave your husband for this new and exciting guy that you barely even know?"

"You don't know what it's like when we're together." Irritation creeps up in your voice at how insistent Seonghwa is about this all.

"You don't know him," Seonghwa reiterates, pointed in his tone. "Why has he skipped around so many schools? He's talented, right? Good at what he does? So why is he blowing through universities all to finally—somehow—end up at the Akademiya? You don't think it's suspicious that he's flunked out of numerous other places and then still has managed to bag a spot at one of if not the most prestigious school? Most aspiring students couldn't blow enough people to even get an interview with the governing body and yet here he is."

"He's—"

"Don't say he's special," Seonghwa cuts you off immediately, eyes judging as he leans down to grab his bag and finally take his leave from you. From this conversation. "He's not special, you're bored."

Belongings slung over his shoulder, Seonghwa cuts across the carpet and with a hand on the doorknob he pauses. Glances back over his shoulder at you one last time with a sigh.

"Does this guy know? Know that you—whatever. Have feelings. Does he have them?" Doesn't want to say the word that feels so stupid to him.

You smile slightly, because if there's one thing you feel sure of, it's that. Hongjoong has time and time again shown you exactly the way that he feels for you, so when it comes to this topic in particular—it's an easy sell.

"Not yet, but," you look up, catch Seonghwa's eyes. "He's obsessed with me, I know he feels the same."

Seonghwa frowns, turning the doorknob and cracking the door to exit.

"Obsession and love are not the same thing."

a/n: LMAOOOO WHAT A BOZO. well lads are we having fun YET!? LMAOOO. cheers x

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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hiebies · 1 year

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hold my hand (as long as you want to)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | desc; how does it feel to hold a hand, one that fits as if it were meant to do so with your own?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | pairings; barnabas tharmr : clive rosfield : benedikta harman : cidolfus telamon : dion lesage : joshua rosfield : jill warrick : hugo kupka -> x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | mlist

holding hands with clive is a bit awkward- the first few times, especially. your hands will bump together, fingers half mangled and mashed together; the first few times are those for trying. his hands are warm, always. warm from the heat of the fire they produce, warm from his own nerves that heat his palms and make his skin perspire, warm from nervous tendencies where he wrings his hands together or against his clothes; they are warm, but earnest, as is clive himself, to be held just as earnestly.

when holding hands with benedikta, beware; she is always thinking on ways to pull you in closer. scheming away, thinking of an advantage to seek out further contact with the skin of her beloved. her hands are calloused along her palms from long years of swordplay, though they are long from loosing their softness. typically she prefers to link just a few fingers together- perhaps just pinkies- and progress her way to pressing your palms together, arms knocking together if walking and body creeping closer if simply sat or layed together.

joshua’s hands are softer than one might expect; perhaps even after so many years, certain self care habits are engrained, perhaps it’s his preference in not using a blade perhaps it’s just something so.. joshua, that it just is. his fingers are long and slender, like one might picture of a pianist, slight calluses formed on his thumb and the heel of his palm juxtapose the other parts of his hands. holding hands with joshua is like a new spring- a rebirth for your emotions and his, life anew, peace, every time you hold his hand. the feeling of home.

as much of a titan of a man hugo is, his hands are surprising in their dexterity. large fingers and even larger hands work tirelessly, work until his hands are practically dust so that they may curl around your fingers and your hands. all he wants is their reciprocal touch, their wandering over his- simply holding, admiring the security each lover brings to the other through simple touches. and he does, really does try, to convey the cadence of his admiration through the touch of his hands to your own- caressing your palms, rough fingers dragging over knuckles and lips ghosting over fingertips.. sometimes simple adoration is all he needs.

the feeling of his hands is a conundrum- dion’s hands both provide shelter in their adoration and cause calamity in their overwhelming sweetness. worn but well cared for, his hands are those of a warrior, blemished yet soft and dexterous while while still remaining strong. his thumb is somehow always dragging over your palm- slowly and in small circles when calm, backwards and forwards over your knuckles when sad, gripped a smidge too tight in anxious moments.. his hands, ones that will always seek to cradle, will always seek your hands out.

though his hands are clumsy and calloused, barnabas will never reject the offer to hold your hand. call him greedy, he’s perfectly fine with the acceptance of such a title, just please keep your hands pressed into his. let him feel your fingers tracing the backs of his palms, the dull thrum of your pulse in your fingertips and the one more steady at the junction of your wrist. let him sink into his subconscious, let him feel you, feel how real you are and how steady your presence is in front of him. please stay close to him, let him have this.

upon first thought, holding hands with jill would not ever lack sincerity- she has such honesty that she wears like a suit of armour, such sincerity that breaks through the crack of every falsehood that ever has been, is or will be. holding jill’s hand is like the first night sleeping on clean linen, like the reprieve of being rebuilt with cool air after standing outside in the summer heat to melt, like dandelion fuzz in the wind or the satisfaction one feels upon returning home after a long trip away. holding hands with jill is kisses to knuckles in quiet moments and whispered confessions in moments of twilight wakefulness.

scars, burns and other marks in every shape and size may litter the skin of his hands and arms- his entire body really- but cid’s hands, mighty as they are and have ever been, will always be tender upon the first contact with yours. the faded and fresh scars on his hands, from scrap ups as a younger man and years of continuous use of a blade make his skin rough and raised, not at all smooth but with its own story to tell. each scar, each burn and old battle wound is worn with pride- he will tell you the story of each and ever one (no matter how silly some may be, believe me some are), with an arm around your waist and one hand holding yours, mapping out the stories of the marks on his skin.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | notes; first post done weeeeee!! :D (mayb i’m jus thirsty for content that this was my first one too) i might do more of this same thing for dif fandoms depending on how i feel

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ hiebies 2023 ©

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sowoozoo-7 · 9 months

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Love, Lust & Litigation | Ch 6 (JJK, KNJ)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: PG-13 (whole fic M, minors DNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! This chapter has been a long time coming. Hope you enjoy~~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6 | ch 7

The whirring of the hotel elevator reverberates through your head as you, Namjoon, and Jungkook ride up to your floor. You landed, finally, in another city after what should have been a direct, three-hour flight turned into a thirty-six hour travel nightmare. You were supposed to arrive on Saturday night and have all of Sunday to prepare for a week’s-worth of depositions. It’s your first class-action suit and you wanted to be fully prepared for Monday morning, but thanks to the reroutes, thunderstorms, and airplane malfunctions, every moment you spend with your eyes open is another moment without sleep.

The firm booked a three room suite for the trip, for strategizing purposes, apparently. You suspect it was just cheaper, but at this point, you would take anything that has a bed.

Namjoon sags against the wall of the elevator. Jungkook, the traitor, can fall asleep anywhere and managed to get some rest on the plane, but even he’s clutching the handle of his luggage for dear life. A headache that started at the beginning of your last flight pounds behind your eyes. You’re ready to wash the smell of airplane out of your hair and you desperately need to brush your teeth. Sweet, crisp hotel linen is in your future and it’s the only thing keeping you going.

Before you left for the trip, you had the idea to sneak into Jungkook's room if the opportunity presented itself. Things have been going well with your maybe-boyfriend. You're still not sure what you are, and you're not in any hurry to define anything, especially since you blush like an idiot schoolgirl with a crush every time you see Namjoon. Namjoon, whom you have seen more in the past thirty six hours than you have in the last month. Endless meetings have kept him out of the office. Still, every time you see him, you can't help but notice Jungkook's eyes tracking him too. Things felt a little awkward at the airport as you waited for your flight, the conversation stilted, hesitant.

The elevator dings, and the door opens. Not that can spare more than a passing thought to all of that now. Your legs feel like lead, and you send up a quick prayer that the room isn’t in the furthest corner of the hotel, and that the keycard works once you get there. If the keycard doesn’t work, you may just curl up in a ball on the hallway carpet.

Namjoon waves the keycard in front of the reader a few doors down from the elevator. It beeps green and you sigh in relief as the door opens to a kitchenette and a small living area.

At first, you think you’re seeing things, that you’re just too tired to see the other bedroom doors branching off from the living room. That if you rub your eyes enough, two more rooms will materialize. Because this can’t be right. You get closer to the door to investigate, Namjoon and Jungkook behind you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Yeah, no. When all you wished for was a bed, you didn’t mean one singular bed.

You’re the first to take action, locating the room phone and dialing reception. It doesn’t take long to confirm your worst fears. There was a mistake in your booking and thanks to conventions and concerts in town, the hotel has no other available rooms for the night.

“So you’re saying there’s nowhere else for us to stay.”

“The couch in the living room should be a pull-out couch?” At least the receptionist sounds appropriately apologetic on the other end of the line.

You gesture to the couch, but as Jungkook tries to remove the cushions, they stay firmly attached to the base.

You sigh into the receiver. “It’s not a pull out couch.”

“All our couches are supposed to be pull-out couches,” she says in dismay.

“Maybe this one sprouted legs and switched places with a regular couch.” You wince as the words come out of your mouth. It’s not her fault, you try to remind yourself. Don’t shoot the messenger.

“I do apologize ma’am. Normally, I would be able to resolve this issue but we don’t have any other rooms available…”

The poor girl sounds like she’s about to burst into tears. You can’t help sighing once more into the receiver. “I understand, but I expect this issue will be resolved in the morning? A three bedroom suite for the duration of our stay.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood, ma’am.”

The click of the phone into the receiver echoes through the quiet room. When you look up at Jungkook and Namjoon, they look back at you with dumbfounded expressions.

“You’re mean when you’re cranky,” says Jungkook.

You don’t have the energy to send a glare his way.

“So, what do we do?” asks Namjoon.

It’s clear none of you can think straight, not after all the regional airports and middle seat economy seats. No one moves. Your headache goes from pounding to piercing, and you pinch your nose to help you think.

The clock on the bedside table ticks over to three a.m. You have had enough.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We have—shit—five hours before we have to be out the door. We’re all exhausted, we all need sleep. This is king size bed. There’s plenty of space for all three of us.”

A look of panic comes over Namjoon’s face. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

You let out a bark of a laugh. “I can’t even stretch my legs out on that thing.”

“I have to, it’s—“

“Go sit on the couch Namjoon, see if you can stretch your legs out.”

He does. It’s almost comical how hard he tries to stuff himself into a comfortable position.

“See? We’re only getting a few hours of sleep, so we’re all gonna do this on a comfy bed. You know how important this meeting is tomorrow. If it doesn’t go well, all our prep will be for nothing.”

They still look dubious. You feel delirious with exhaustion.

“Look, we’ll do this. It’ll be me, then Jungkook, then Namjoon.” You gesture to the bed, indicating where each person will sleep. “There’s plenty of room, we don’t even have to touch each other.”

Jungkook nods along, but Namjoon makes a choked sound. “But you guys are dating.”

You and Jungkook share a look. Even thinking about doing anything remotely intimate is exhausting. Jungkook looks like he can barely keep his eyes open.

“That is the furthest thing from my mind, but if you’re worried, you can be in the middle.”

He opens his mouth to protest again, but you put up a hand. “I don’t care what order we sleep in. I’m taking this edge, but I’m gonna shower first.”

Showering is a sweet relief, and the warmth of the water eases your tired muscles. As you come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, you don’t even have it in you to be self-conscious about being in your pajamas around Namjoon, or to get all swoony about sleeping next to him. You start dozing off as soon as you tuck yourself between the covers, eyes heavy and mind tired. The sounds of the guys getting ready for bed sound distant to your ears. You don’t feel the dip in the bed as Namjoon gets in next to you, your dreams already swirling with depositions and settlements.

“I had to share a bed with my colleagues. This is unacceptable.”

The receptionist, a different one from the one you talked to on the phone, glances over to Namjoon and Jungkook and fails to cover a smirk. Infuriatingly, they look refreshed and handsome as ever. You tried your best to look presentable, but it’s like you can feel the lack of sleep hanging in bags under your eyes. No amount of concealer could hide that.

“I am so sorry. That must have been an awkward night.”

“Don’t give me that look. I barely got any sleep.”

She lets out a strangled giggle.

“And not because of that either. They both snore like grandpas who need CPAP machines. Will the suite be ready for us by this afternoon, or not?”

There’s a slow heartbeat beneath your ear, and it’s dragging you up to consciousness.

Your mouth feels like cotton and just thinking that thought feels like someone reached into your head and squeezed your brain. How much did you drink last night?

You don’t want to be awake right now. You don’t even know if it’s worth it to be alive right now.

Maybe if you close your eyes even tighter, you can convince yourself you’re not awake. You snuggle in closer and try to will yourself back to sleep.

A thought floats slowly to the surface. Your arm is wrapped around a waist, but it is not the enviably tiny waist you're used to.

You don’t panic, not at first.

You crack open an eye only to squeeze it shut again. Morning sunlight streams in from the open window, sending a piercing pain through your head.

But… was that…?

You look again, squinting against the brightness. Yes, confirmed. That is Jungkook’s tattooed arm draped across the same torso you’re clinging onto. You lift your head, blearily seeing that the has his head tucked into a neck. And that neck is attached to…

Now you’re wide awake, your stomach flipping in surprise.

How the hell did you end up sleeping on top of Namjoon?

You poke Jungkook’s arm and you want to strangle him when he makes a bothered, mumbled noise and burrows his head deeper into Namjoon’s neck. The movement makes him stir, a deep grumble going through his chest. You feel it more than hear it. Your stomach does a funny flop again.

Several things happen at once:

1) Jungkook opens his eyes and freezes when he sees it’s not you he’s cuddling.

2) Namjoon wakes up and clocks that you and Jungkook are sprawled on top of him. “This has to be a dream,” he mutters, the sound vibrating through his chest.

3) You realize the funny feeling in your stomach isn’t because of Namjoon’s morning voice.

No, your stomach feels funny because you had one too many cocktails the night before. And several glasses of champagne. Stumbling back to the hotel room with Namjoon and Jungkook, who were just as shitfaced as you. You all tumbled in through the door together and —

Fuck.

You’re about to puke up the contents of your stomach. You bolt upright, pushing past the tight embrace of Namjoon’s arms around you. The only thing more mortifying than waking up as one of the slices of bread in a Namjoon sandwich would be to throw up all over the glorious sandwich. You make it to the bathroom, barely.

As you’re decanting the contents of your stomach, flashes of the day before come back to you. The claimants settling before noon on Tuesday. Celebratory cocktails for happy hour. Ordering too much sushi. A second round at a karaoke bar. Pulling Jungkook and Namjoon by their ties to your bedroom.

The rumble of deep voices comes from your bedroom as you hug the porcelain bowl. You’re never having alcohol again, you decide.

Once your stomach settles, you pull yourself to your feet. Your reflection in the mirror startles you. You look like shit, your hair knotted and tangled, mascara smudged under your eyes. The thought of Jungkook—let alone Namjoon—seeing you like this makes you want to heave again.

Wait, no. You do have to heave again.

It takes twenty minutes for you to be sure that your stomach won’t rebel again, and for you to wash your face and brush your teeth. Your hair, you decide, is a lost cause. You pull on a robe before leaving the bathroom, because even if you made a mistake and slept on your boss in your undies, you sure as hell don’t want to parade around without pants.

Namjoon and Jungkook sit on opposite sides of the bed when you come out of the bathroom, two feet of space between them. Jungkook looks like a dream, because life is unfair, and he always looks like a dream. Namjoon, mere mortal, looks like someone that just woke up after a night of drinking, face a little puffy, and hair sleep-mussed. They’re in similar states of undress as you, in undershirts and boxers.

Namjoon notices you first, but Jungkook speaks first.

”Are you okay?”

His voice is hoarse. He always goes too hard at karaoke.

“I’ve been worse,” you say, voice croaky from all the karaoke and all the puking. You clear your throat and try again. “I can’t remember when, but this is surely not the worst. Um, how are you guys doing?”

Jungkook looks down at his hands, his gaze flitting to Namjoon.

Namjoon scrubs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, his deep morning voice sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t know what happened.”

“We drank too much is what happened,” says Jungkook under his breath.

Namjoon shakes his head. “Drinking is never an excuse. It wasn’t appropriate.”

You sink into an armchair in the corner of the room. “I’m pretty sure it was me who dragged both of you in here.”

“‘A win calls for a cuddle.’” Jungkook imitates you in a high voice.

If you had a pillow and the energy, you would chuck it at him.

A little crease appears between Namjoon’s brows as he frowns. “Still…”

“I need an aspirin if we’re going to keep talking about this,” you say. Your gut is a jumble of embarrassment, satisfaction, and yearning, and combined with the queasiness, you want to hit pause on this conversation. It takes you a second to muster up the energy to heave yourself off the armchair, but you get up, somehow, and go to your suitcase to take out the bottle of painkillers you always carry with you. “Want one?”

They both nod, looking as miserable as you feel.

You make your way to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. They follow you like little ducklings, copying you as you swallow down the medicine and several gulps of water. It brings sweet relief to your scratchy throat. You want to chug the entire glass, but the water sloshes around in your empty stomach, making you feel a little sick. The clink of the glass on the counter shoots through your brain. You climb onto the barstools by the kitchen counter and rest your head on the counter, the cool marble soothing. Your headache starts to fade a little, but not by much.

“I’m sorry,” says Namjoon into the silence.

“Stop apologizing,” you say into the counter, words muffled. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.” You hope the words sound sincere coming out of your mouth, but a voice inside of you keeps repeating that you don’t regret it at all. Not when you can still feel the warmth of him beneath you, the tight squeeze of his arms around you, too.

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t appropriate. I’ll report myself to HR when we return to the office.”

You sit up, room swaying a bit. Jungkook stands against the counter, worrying his lip ring with his teeth. Namjoon grips his water glass so tightly you fear he’s going to break it.

“Did something beyond sleeping happen, and I’m not remembering?”

A look of panic comes over Namjoon’s face. “I don’t think so.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay, then. We’re all adults here. I wasn’t touched in a way I didn’t want to be touched.” You try not to cringe as the half-confession slips from your lips. “Did you feel uncomfortable Namjoon?”

“No, but that’s not the point.” Your stomach does a funny flip and this time it is because of him. He doesn’t regret last night. “I’m your boss, and there’s a power im—“

“Jungkook,” you say, turning to him. “Were you touched in a way that you didn’t want to be touched?” He shakes his head. “Were you in a situation you didn’t want to be in?” He shakes his head again.

Something shifts in the silence that follows. Everything has been all but said, and you’re left feeling unbalanced. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol still talking. The throbbing behind your eyes makes it hard to think straight.

“There you go.” You put your head back on the countertop, unable to look at either of them directly.

“Still—“ Namjoon starts.

You hold up a hand without raising you read. “Stop beating yourself up about it. The worst thing we did was sleep in the same bed together. It’s not like this is the first time, anyway.”

Someone chokes on water. You keep your eyes closed, waiting for the painkillers to kick in.

No one says anything for a while.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep hunched over the counter, Jungkook’s quiet voice jars you back to reality.

“What’s the plan now?”

“What do you mean?” comes Namjoon’s response.

“We’re supposed to be here all week for these depositions, but now that they’ve settled…”

“I’ll check with the firm.”

You hear movement in the kitchen, clothes rustling, glasses being placed down. When you muster the energy to sit up, only Jungkook remains. He looks lost in thought, staring into space.

“I’m gonna shower.”

He only gives you a grunt in response, eyes focused on another plane of existence.

You stand under the spray until your skin is red and wrinkly. When you come out, the sight of the rumpled bed reminds you of how warm and tight Namjoon’s embrace as around you, how right it felt to be with the two of them in the same space. You want to wail, because you got a taste of the impossibilities you’ve been dreaming of. It would have been best to leave it to your imagination. Why did you have to give in to your drunk impulses?

You pull on the closest comfy clothes that look clean and go to sit in the living room. Jungkook, also freshly showered, sits on the sofa, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. The way he’s looking through his feed, you can tell he’s not processing what he’s seeing. You slump down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. He takes his hand in yours, thumb tracing slow circles on the back of your hand. The repetitive motion almost puts you to sleep.

“Oh.”

You open your eyes to see Namjoon in the doorway, looking at you two on the couch as if he walked in on something forbidden. He starts to back out of the living room. You sit up, and take your hand back. Or maybe Jungkook takes his hand away; you’re not really sure.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt—“

“No, you aren’t. We were waiting for you,” says Jungkook.

You feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Namjoon looks like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing whether to run away or come closer. The three of you are standing on a knife’s edge, waiting for something to tip you to one side or the other.

“Did you get in touch with the firm?” clarifies Jungkook.

Air fills the room again, and you slump back into the couch, winded. Back to pretending like everything is okay, then. Like nothing has changed between the three of you.

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, we’re staying as planned.”

It’s Friday night, and the three of you are outside of the hotel waiting for a cab. Namjoon made a reservation on Yoongi’s recommendation for a trendy new restaurant that just opened. The cold, February air has a bite to it, and you pull your coat tighter around you.

The world felt askew all of Wednesday and Thursday, as if you were on a ship permanently tilted by waves. Work kept your mind off things, for the most part. As soon as Namjoon made the call Wednesday morning, Jimin and Hoseok got to work and scheduled a full afternoons of meetings for the remainder of your time on your trip. When you weren’t in meetings, you were in your room, sitting cross-legged on your bed as you answered emails and drafted briefs.

During your free time, you had to remind yourself to act normally around Namjoon, as if acting normal was the only thing keeping everything from careening out of control. Every time you looked at Namjoon, he was either turning his gaze away from you, or looking at Jungkook with a sad expression on his face. Jungkook, on the other hand... you were worried he would chew off his lip piercing with how much he fiddled with it as he worked.

Though by Friday morning, things felt like they settled down, with normal, easy banter between the three of you. It felt like a relief to laugh, and not feel on edge. You’re looking forward to going back home, to settling back into your normal routine.

“Oh hey,” says Jungkook as he checks his phone, “it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Is it?” Your breath puffs out in a small cloud and you try to suppress a shiver. The longer the car takes to arrive, the more you’re regretting sacrificing warmth for fashion. You’re wearing your warm winter coat, but your legs are bare under your dress.

Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulders and rubs your arms to warm you up. He whispers into your ear, “Will you be my Valentine?”

Even though he whispered it, you see Namjoon stiffen out of the corner of your eye.

You scoff and push Jungkook away, rolling your eyes, in an attempt to clear the tension. “It’s a stupid capitalist construct.”

“C’mon, I’ll buy you discount chocolate tomorrow.” He pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes.

Had you been alone, you would have made him beg for it. With Namjoon present, though, you want to kill Jungkook for acting like this.

Thankfully, the cab pulls up before he can do anything else.

“Okay, but only because no one else is going to put up with your annoying ass.”

Luckily, there’s no more talk of Valentines on the way to the restaurant. You worry a bit if you’re going to be surrounded by lovey-dovey couples and if that will make the whole evening even more awkward, but unlike other places, there’s no red hearts plastered everywhere, no romantic candlelit tables with pink confetti.

You get distracted by the good food in front of you and by the end of the main course, you forget about the tense atmosphere of the beginning of the night. A couple of drinks and everything gets right back to normal, the alcohol softening the edges of all the emotions you’ve been feeling. It finally feels like you’re at ease, like the three of you can go without blushing every time you make eye contact. It feels normal, instead of illicit, when Jungkook slips his hand onto your thigh under the table.

You’re laughing at a story Namjoon is telling about his first trial out of school, embarrassing in the moment, but hilarious in hindsight.

“Hey, hey, if it isn’t Rap Monster!”

“Oh no.” Namjoon cringes as he twists to see who called out.

Rap Monster? You try not to laugh as you exchange confused looks with Jungkook.

“Who’s that?” asks Jungkook.

“My past,” says Namjoon with a rueful smile. He gets up to greet the newcomer, a lean brunette with all the attitude of a carefree frat boy.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” The man extends a hand out in a handshake.

“Hey Jackson. All good man.” Namjoon takes it and pulls him into a one-armed hug. “These are my colleagues.” He introduces you and Jungkook. “This guy was my freshman year roommate in college and we went to law school together.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell…”

“Please tell us about Rap Monster,” you say.

Jackson lets out a loud laugh. “Believe it or not, Namjoon was an underground rapper back in the day.”

“No way.”

“You never mentioned that!” says Jungkook.

“With a name like Rap Monster, I’d like to leave that in my past.”

“I’ll send you a link on YouTube,” says Jackson in a stage whisper, winking dramatically. He turns to Namjoon. “You should have told me you were in town for work! We haven’t caught up in ages.”

“Big case. Took up all my spare brainpower, you know?”

“Last big case, then? Rumor mill says you’re moving on.”

You go cold. Namjoon’s eyes go wide, and he tries to get Jackson to stop talking, but Jackson keeps talking, unaware. You and Jungkook look at each other, then back at Namjoon, who looks like he’s watching a train wreck in slow motion.

“What’s that all about, bro? Jumping ship just as we all thought you were about to make partner at Bang & Associates.”

“You’re leaving?”

A/N 2: Sorry for the cliffhanger 😘 Next installment coming soon, I promise! I'd love to hear from you if you have any comments!

Please do not copy or repost. I do not crosspost anywhere else.

#jungkook x you #namjoon x you #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #bts fic #junkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #fic: love lust & litigation

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kingdaddydaichi · 2 years

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D. SAWAMURA | JEALOUSY HCs

x gn!reader. sfw. a little crack. imagining daichi being just the slightest bit insecure is so precious to me. for the record, i don't think he's a possessive partner, but you're so beautiful to him and maybe sometimes he worries you can do better. 🥺

daichi doesn't get jealous too easily but it happens more often than you realize bc he doesn't say anything most of the time.

that’s not to say it happens a lot tho bc you’re a loyal partner and you don’t give him any reason to worry.

but it’s not you he worries about. it’s them - the other guys bc he knows how beautiful and wonderful you are…and he knows they know it too. i mean, pffssh, who doesn't know it? 💅🏼

so, if daichi sees another dude talking to you, trust - he’s watching. subtly. from the next room. like a hawk.

daichi’s tracking every move dude is making from his periphery. listening to every word too, even if he's in the middle of conversation with someone else.

he usually won’t step in though unless he senses that you're uncomfortable. and he just knows bc he’s finely in tune w his lover.

if he does step in, he squares his shoulders with the other guy and leans in with a smile while extending his large hand, obviously flexing his dominant energy. “hi, i’m daichi, (y/n)’s boyfriend/husband. i don’t believe we’ve met?”

you can almost hear the other guy's knuckles cracking as he grits his teeth and winces in pain.

daichi is king at lacing just the right amount of intimidation in with superficial tact that sends the clear and concise message that he will end them if they try any "funny stuff" with his sweetheart.

he’s not nearly as low key about it as he thinks he is.

like say he comes in and sees you wearing asahi’s hoodie or something.

aside from chuckling bc the thing is so big on you that it's threatening to swallow you up, daichi will say “hey baby, you cold?”

and thinking nothing of it you’ll smile at him and say, “i was, but asahi let me wear his hoodie so i’m fine now!"

“gotcha. well, i bet asahi’s getting a little chilled. how about you wear my jacket instead so we can give his hoodie bac-“

“oh, i’m okay! i'm not cold,” asahi will chime in with a smile.

and daichi’s eyes will darken as he glares at the former ace. “i said you’re cold…”, making the taller man flinch.

you take off the offending clothing and pat daichi’s shoulder to soothe the savage beast that wants to rip asahi's hoodie to shreds with his teeth.

“here you go, asa! thanks so much for letting me borrow it!”

then daichi will put his jacket over your shoulders and pull you in close to his side, smiling bc he's feeling much better now.

it’s so cute bc daichi thinks he's being slick, but everyone knows the diplomatic gentleman has a deep, but not so well-hidden territorial streak.

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to6ge · 1 year

Text

II. Bad luck..

You closed your phone and continued to get ready for the day. Since you woke up “early” You decided to take a little longer—only then did you regret that. You spent awfully long in the shower, unaware of how much time youve consumed by showering.

As soon as you checked the time after you showered, it was 5 minutes before school started. “Shit shit shit!” You thought to yourself. It was very ironic how you woke up early and was still going to arrive to school, very late.

You quickly put on your uniform and bag, running towards school. You ran as fast as you could. The streets were very empty, and it was cold.

Even when you really tried your best not to be late, you were around 15 minutes late. Well—you arrived to school on-time but its just that you got lost. Shoko and Utahime wasnt there too. You felt frustrated at them both. “What a bad start..”

You werent the last to arrive in class. It was awkward, you scanned the room and thought that you didnt know anybody—but you were too quick to assume. But then, the door opened again and there was Gojo. The seat beside you was empty, so he took a seat there—not realizing it was you. You took a seat in the middle row, took out your notebook and essentials.

You reached for your phone, and immediately texted Shoko ans Utahime.

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TAGLIST STATUS: OPEN

SUMMARY : IN WHICH! You transfered to Tokyo Jujutsu highschool, where your “enemy” goes. ( Friends that loved to tease eachother & get on their nerves ) Even before you transfered, you both had a rivarly ever since you were a kid. This’ll be so bad. Atleast you though so. Then, you both decide to fake date eachother for some reason,, and you didn't think youd even fall for him—but you were wrong.

NOTE : IM STRUGGLING SM IN TRYNA MAKE UTAHIME INVOLVED IN THE CONVO IM SOBBINGGG

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚gwens4vr #jjk drabbles #jjk smau #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #smau #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader

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kjmsupremacist · 1 year

Text

something sweet, a peach tree (mark/jaehyun)

Mark begins the summer after his junior year with an unpaid internship and no other plans. But when he agrees to go pick his baby niece up from her music lessons, her teacher, Jeong Jaehyun, catches his eye. Too bad he’s off limits, and not just because Mark’s niece is involved. Jaehyun is 41 to Mark’s 20.

To sate his curiosity about older men, Mark decides to look into becoming a sugar baby. He could use the money, after all. And he seems to find a willing patron right away. But for the first time in Mark’s like, he finds he might be in over his head.

Chapter 2 | prev next mlist

Characters: Mark, Jaehyun, other members of nct throughout

Genre: romance, angst, smut, age gap, sugar daddy!au

Pairing: Mark/Jaehyun

Warnings: AGE GAP (older jaehyun, younger mark), alcohol mentions, poor decision making perhaps

Rating: Explicit

Length: 7.1k

Mark wonders in retrospect if he should’ve at least tried to dress up a little. Not, like, a full suit or something, but at least a button-down instead of a t-shirt under a hoodie, and maybe khakis or whatever instead of jeans he’s pretty sure he’s had since his sophomore year of high school. But it’s far too late for that now, so he pushes the doors to the coffee shop open with a deep breath.

He hasn’t told anyone about this meeting. He considered telling Johnny, but honestly he’s kind of worried it’s going to go really poorly, and he could do without teasing. Besides, it’s not like he needs someone to know his location for safety reasons. They’re just gonna chat. If it goes well and they arrange a more private meeting, then he’ll loop Johnny in. For now, it’s Mark’s little secret.

He orders his drink (a red velvet hot cocoa, if you must know, but hopefully this Yuno guy won’t ask) and looks around surreptitiously while he waits for it. The booth in the corner is empty, so once his drink is ready, he steels himself and heads over to it, dropping down onto the plush seat that faces the door so he can keep an eye out.

He’s barely taken a sip of hot cocoa when he feels someone approach. He looks up, apprehensive, but it’s—

“Jaehyun-hyung,” Mark says in surprise, tongue almost tripping over the honorific. Jaehyun had insisted on hyung when Mark tried to call him ssaem again. “Hey.”

“Mark,” Jaehyun says, sounding equally surprised. “I, uh, I saw you over here and thought I’d come say hi. What a coincidence, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees dumbly, trying to peer around Jaehyun’s shoulders for his mystery man without being obvious.

“What brings you here?” Jaehyun asks, nodding at the cup in Mark’s hand. “I thought you weren’t too big on coffee.”

“It’s hot cocoa,” Mark admits sheepishly. Jaehyun grins, dimples popping out and making Mark’s stomach flop pathetically. He has to get Jaehyun out of here before Yuno arrives, or it’s about to get really awkward—and blow whatever slim chance he might have had with Jaehyun completely. “I’m, uh, I’m waiting for someone.”

“Oh!” There’s a pause. They blink at each other, and Mark feels his anxiety climb a tick higher. “I am too, actually. Which—I mention only because I had arranged to meet at this exact table. With the person I’m waiting for.”

“Oh,” Mark says. “Another coincidence, I guess! The person I’m supposed to be meeting agreed to meet at this table, too.” Confusion and something else Mark can’t figure out flicker across Jaehyun’s face. “But,” he adds quickly, making to get up, “we had a second spot if this table was taken, so no worries! I can totally go.”

“No, that’s okay,” Jaehyun says immediately. “I also—I also planned a backup spot. You’re already sitting.”

“Are you sure?” Mark asks, still half out of his seat. “C’mon, I was always taught it was bad manners to make someone older than me stand if I could give them a seat.”

“I’m barely in my forties, I’m not geriatric,” Jaehyun replies, soft humor entering his voice. “It’s fine,” he adds. “The spot by the window has chairs, too.”

“Hang on,” Mark says, horror slowly dawning. “That’s—that’s your backup spot?”

Jaehyun’s expression drops. “Ah,” he says. “Yes. Why?”

“It’s just—that’s also my backup spot,” Mark says, and then rushes on before he can chicken out. “And this is starting to feel like way too many coincidences.”

Jaehyun swallows, looking around, and then slowly lowers himself into the seat opposite Mark. He leans in a little so Mark can hear him. “Are you—are you Minhyung, by chance?”

Mark’s heart hammers in his chest. He thinks he might be a little nauseous; suddenly, the red velvet hot cocoa seems like a terrible idea. “Uh, yeah, I am,” he manages. When did his mouth get so dry? “Are… you Yuno?”

“Yeah, yes, I am,” Jaehyun mutters, leaning back. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Mark repeats.

They’re silent for a minute, fidgeting. Mark watches Jaehyun through his eyelashes. The thing is, if Mark didn’t already know Jaehyun, if Jaehyun wasn’t his baby niece’s fucking music teacher, he’d be perfect. He’d fuck Jaehyun for free. Honestly, he kind of thinks he should be the one paying Jaehyun.

“Well,” Jaehyun says finally. “This is awkward. How about we just… forget this happened?”

Mark knows it’s probably for the best. Technically, there’s nothing wrong with it, but it feels weird. And kids are kinda perceptive. What if Lucy picks up on something and then says something to James? Mark’s good at lying to his parents, but James can always call Mark on his bullshit. And then what? “Yeah,” Mark says slowly. “We probably should.”

Jaehyun laughs, tracing the wood grain on the table with one of his fingers. “You’re probably relieved, right? I’m probably not what you had in mind when you were messaging Yuno.”

Mark’s stupid mouth gets ahead of him again. “Honestly? Other than the fact that you teach my niece, you’d be a great fit,” he says. “I was afraid you were gonna be, like, super old. And super ugly.”

Jaehyun lets out surprised laughter. “Well, I’m glad you think I’m not super ugly,” he says.

“No, I mean—” Mark’s face is burning, he can feel it. God, it’s so embarrassing and definitely fucked up of him, but he wants Jaehyun so bad, and he kind of doesn’t care if his brother finds out.

“That’s a bad set of criteria,” Jaehyun says. “I mean, who cares about age or looks if he’s a creep? Or a murderer?”

“What if we didn’t forget about this?” Mark blurts.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s like you just said. What if the next person I meet is a murderer? Or, like, a cannibal? Or, you know, is super old and super ugly?” Mark says. At least this gets Jaehyun to huff out some laughter. “Like, we kind of already know each other. I don’t think you’re a murderer. I’m definitely not a murderer.” And I already like you.

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah, but what about Lucy?”

“It’s not like she’s my kid,” Mark says. “And even if she was, so what?”

“What if I subconsciously give her preferential treatment?” Mark can’t tell if Jaehyun is joking or not.

“Dude,” Mark says, and then cringes. “Is that, like, really what you’re worried about?”

Jaehyun lets out a quiet chuckle. “No,” he admits. A pause. Jaehyun looks down at his hands, then back up at Mark, eyebrows pinched. “Mark, you’re twenty. And I’m… not.”

“You were fine with the idea before you knew it was me,” Mark points out, maybe a little grumpier than he meant it.

“Right, but—” Jaehyun cuts himself off with a sigh. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Mark arches an eyebrow at him. “It’s not like we’d be, what, in a relationship or something. I have a mind of my own, hyung. And you don’t seem like the manipulative type. We’d just—be fucking, that’s all. I’m fine with that. And I understand the consequences.”

“Do you?” Jaehyun asks. Mark thinks it was supposed to come out snappier, but mostly he just sounds weary.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine,” Mark says. He’s not going to try to coerce Jaehyun into this. If this is going to happen, it’ll be because they both decided to do it.

Jaehyun presses his lips together, thinking. Mark wants desperately to keep talking just to fill the stifling silence, or else leap up and run away and be done with this forever, but he forces himself to sit still, taking another sip of his cooling cocoa.

But finally Jaehyun speaks. “The problem is I do want to,” he says quietly. There’s something under the veil of his calm tone, but Mark can’t exactly place his finger on it.

“Oh.” Mark doesn’t know what to say. Jaehyun’s so taciturn, but when he does speak, he’s always straightforward and honest. It makes Mark feel like he’s just gotten the ground ripped out from under him. Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve known who Yuno was from the start. He texted the exact same way he speaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. Uh, but—I don’t need you to pay me. Really. It’s not like I need the money, I just thought some actual income might be nice. But—it’s you, so. So we can forget the whole… sugar daddy thing.” He has to practically drag the words from his mouth.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Still. I would like to take care of you. If I can.”

Mark can feel himself paling at the thought. “I can’t accept money from you, hyung.”

“You came into this looking for a specific kind of arrangement,” Jaehyun counters. “It’s not fair that you don’t get… what you were looking for, just because it’s me.”

I’m getting exactly what I was looking for, Mark wants to say. “It wasn’t just the money I was after,” he says instead.

Jaehyun laughs at this. “Okay, I catch your drift. But still. Let me spoil you sometimes, at least,” he says, like he’s bartering. “Just little things. Help you out with groceries. Take you out to dinner or something.” When Mark hesitates, he continues, “I want to. I like it.”

Mark thinks about it, then nods. If Jaehyun’s offering, he’d be stupid to refuse. Besides, he seems so genuine, it almost feels rude to say no. “Okay,” he agrees.

“Okay,” Jaehyun repeats. They look at each other for a second, and then Jaehyun kind of nods to himself. “So,” he says. “How do we want to do this?”

Mark fidgets. “I mean,” he says. “We can—we can do whatever, but I’m free for the rest of today, so.”

Jaehyun smiles. “Wanna… come back to mine, then?” he offers.

“Yes,” Mark says, maybe a little too quickly. He’s almost worried Jaehyun’s gonna change his mind at any minute, and he wants the chance to prove himself before either of them can chicken out.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything about it, just stands, serene. “My car’s across the street,” he says.

Mark doesn’t recognize the relief for what it is until they step out onto the sidewalk. He’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to go through all the song and dance of proving he’s the right balance of hardworking, sexy, and poor to some random man just so he can get a weekly allowance. He probably would’ve made way more money that way, but the payoff is worth it. He watches the pretty line of Jaehyun’s neck as he checks for cars before crossing the street. He doesn’t have to pretend he thinks the man he’s fucking is hot. He doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t think Jaehyun is hot now, either, except for when Lucy’s looking. In one bizarre, dizzying moment, it seems like everything has fallen into place.

Jaehyun’s car is as surprising as everything else about him. It’s all white, some fancy new kind with what is basically an iPad as the dashboard interface. It hums to life with a press of a button. Mark peeks at the different options on the stick shift, trying to be as surreptitious as possible. It looks like some kind of hybrid model, but it’s about as far from a Prius as Mark can imagine.

“Nice car,” he says belatedly as Jaehyun pulls out into the street.

Jaehyun laughs softly. “Thank you,” he says. “I know my rich-guy side is a little hard to reconcile with the music teacher you first met, but I promise the music teacher is a little closer to who I actually am. I just… indulge.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me, man,” Mark says. “It’s, um. It’s kinda hot.”

Jaehyun laughs again, louder this time and a little flustered. “So you do just like me for my money.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Mark feels a blush rising to his cheeks as Jaehyun continues to laugh—not meanly, though it embarrasses Mark all the same. But refuting it would be so much worse. Yeah, Mark likes Jaehyun’s money. But he also likes everything else about him. The money hardly registers on the list of Things Mark Likes About Jaehyun. And he can’t possibly say that.

Luckily, Jaehyun seems like he doesn’t mind in the slightest. “Will you stay for dinner?” he asks. “I’m not much of a cook, but we can order in.”

“I’d love that,” Mark says. I guess I am just whoring myself out for food, he thinks to himself, which is fine.

They chat as Jaehyun drives. Mark tells Jaehyun which instruments he plays. Jaehyun tells him about his company—his parents made him go into something “serious” in college, but his grandmother insisted he also study something he enjoyed, so that’s how he ended up with business and music.

“They were both right,” Jaehyun says cheerfully as he pulls into the driveway of a small but pretty house and turns off his engine. “Oh, I forgot to mention—I have two dogs. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, I love dogs,” Mark says earnestly, wondering faintly if Jaehyun could get any more perfect.

“Good, because my dogs love people,” Jaehyun says, popping his door open and stepping out of the car.

Mark follows, glancing over the plants that line Jaehyun’s front walk. Either Jaehyun hires landscapers or he just really likes gardening, but regardless Mark finds himself charmed. He likes the image of Jaehyun planning his yard, his house, his decor.

Jaehyun’s already on the front porch, unlocking the door. Mark can hear excited barking from inside. “Back, guys,” Jaehyun says, amusement rich in his voice. “Inside voices, please. Back. Sit. Princess, sit. Good dogs. Stay. C’mon, Mark, before they run out into the street.”

“Sorry,” Mark says, jogging up the steps, kicking his shoes off quickly and ducking inside right after Jaehyun, closing the door behind him.

Two dogs are sitting right inside, perfectly still except for their tails, which are wagging furiously. “This is Princess Buttercup,” Jaehyun says, gesturing at the big Doberman on the left. “And this is The Dread Pirate Roberts,” he concludes, nodding to the small white ball of fluff on the right.

Mark can’t help it—he busts out laughing as he crouches to greet the dogs, who pop up at Jaehyun’s signal and immediately cover him in kisses. “Dude, I love The Princess Bride,” he says through his laughter.

“Me too,” Jaehyun says, sounding a little sheepish. “I know, it’s silly.”

“Yeah, it’s so silly,” Mark agrees, still laughing. “It’s hilarious, I love it.”

“People usually just call them Princess and Bobby for short,” Jaehyun says. “Okay, guys, give Mark some space. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

Jaehyun leads him into the living room, the dogs trailing after. There are plants in the corners and some kind of diffuser on one of the side tables. The back wall is floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto a large backyard, which includes a spacious patio and a clean, glittering pool. It’s not super fancy, but it’s neat and tidy. Mark suppresses a shudder at the thought of his own messy apartment. He hopes Jaehyun never asks to come over, because he is not going to be impressed.

Another (larger) part of his brain, however, is losing it over how nice everything is. Jaehyun is rich rich. It’s not a whole bunch of gaudy pieces, either, just the sort of muted air of prestige that means a stupid amount of money is hiding beneath the simple facade.

“Don’t get too intimidated,” Jaehyun says, like he’s reading Mark’s mind. “I’m not this neat on my own. I hire a cleaning service, and they were just here yesterday.”

Mark laughs. “I’m kinda relieved to hear that,” he admits. “I’m… pretty disorganized myself, so…”

Jaehyun grins back at him, and Mark feels a knot of tension release in his back. Money aside, how they got here aside, it’s still Jaehyun. Not some random man Mark met on the internet. Jaehyun. Mark shouldn’t be nervous, he should be excited.

“Anyway,” Jaehyun continues. Again, there’s something in his voice that Mark doesn’t understand. He’s talking quickly and his tone is a little detached, like his mind is elsewhere. “Kitchen is through there, along with my office and a guest room. You can explore later, but I think the main attraction is upstairs.”

Mark kind of wants to just take him on his stupid, beautiful leather couch, but it’s clear Jaehyun has some kind of plan, and he doesn’t want to disrupt it. “Sure,” he says instead. “Show me your bedroom.”

Jaehyun’s bedroom is much like the rest of his house. It’s simple and clean, with not much extra. There’s two pillows on his bed. The sheets are a cold, pale blue, crumpled like Jaehyun made his bed in a rush that morning. There’s a walk-in closet in one corner, door just barely ajar, and another door that Mark assumes leads to the bathroom. The windows are big, curtains open, and from up here, Mark can see just past the short trees that line the boundary of Jaehyun’s yard and into the neighbor’s backyard beyond.

He looks back to find Jaehyun hovering near his bed, and realizes that he seems kind of nervous. Before Mark can try to think of something to say, though, Jaehyun speaks.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks quietly.

Mark stares at him for a second. “Yes,” he says. “Why… would I not want to?”

“You could have anyone.” There’s a helplessness to the way he says it, and suddenly all the weird shit Mark’s been picking up on all day makes sense.

He steps closer to Jaehyun. Just because he’s older doesn’t mean he doesn’t need reassurance. Maybe it means he needs it even more. Mark gets to make mistakes. He gets to be awkward, clumsy, fallible, because he’s young. Jaehyun probably thinks he can’t, because he’s the older one. But the truth is Mark liked him when he thought he was just an unreasonably hot children’s music teacher, double-checking that he wasn’t letting one of his students get kidnapped.

“Maybe,” he says softly, reaching out and taking one of Jaehyun’s hands. “But I want you.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun is leaning in.

“Yeah,” Mark breathes. “It’s kind of, um—I wanted you from the first time I saw you, I think. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees. Mark’s already closing his eyes; he feels breath in his cheek, and then Jaehyun is kissing him.

Mark very nearly moans, thankfully catching the noise before it manages to escape, kissing back as soon as he knows what’s happening. Jaehyun’s hands come up to cup Mark’s cheeks, and Mark grabs Jaehyun’s waist to pull him closer, kissing deeper before breaking apart to give them a second to recover.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, too scared to open his eyes.

“Yes,” Jaehyun replies, knocking his forehead gently against Mark’s.

It’s like something’s unlocked inside of Mark. He’s gotten Jaehyun’s permission, and he’s absolutely going to abuse that privilege. He leans in, kissing Jaehyun again and waiting for him to relax so he can push his tongue past Jaehyun’s teeth, feeling heady satisfaction flood his body when Jaehyun fucking moans, his hands tightening on Mark’s jaw. Mark walks them blindly toward the bed, backing Jaehyun up against it until the mattress makes Jaehyun’s knees fold.

Mark leans over him, anchoring one knee on the mattress next to Jaehyun’s hip, knocking Jaehyun’s knees apart with his other leg so he can get up close. Jaehyun tips his chin up to accommodate this change, hands finding Mark’s chest and ribs instead. Mark cradles the base of Jaehyun’s skull in his palm, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and finally pulling away. A string of spit spans the space between them before snapping midair, and it should be gross, but Mark swears it just makes him harder.

He brushes some hair off of Jaehyun’s forehead, trying to catch his breath. “Can I fuck you now?” he asks quietly.

“Please,” Jaehyun replies softly.

Mark smiles. He feels kind of insane, actually, but it doesn’t matter because whatever wild light his eyes have taken on only seems to excite Jaehyun. “Yeah?” he says. “Gonna let me fuck you, hyung?”

“Mm-hm,” Jaehyun hums. Mark brushes his hands out of the way so he can pull his t-shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind him, then leans in to kiss Jaehyun again. He sneaks his hands down to fumble with the buttons on Jaehyun’s shirt. Somehow, he undoes them without looking, and Jaehyun shrugs his shirt off without breaking the kiss. Mark swipes it out of the way and steps back to give Jaehyun room to fully clamber up onto the bed.

It takes Mark a second to figure out what he’s looking at. Somehow, he’d always imagined Jaehyun with a soft body—still somewhat lean, but certainly not this. Mark trails his gaze over Jaehyun’s sturdy pecs, his absolute washboard abs.

“Dude,” he stutters. He nearly bites his own tongue trying to get the words out. “What the fuck?”

Jaehyun blinks up at him, innocent confusion making his eyes sparkle prettily. “What?”

“You’re—I didn’t think—fuck, you’re so hot,” Mark manages. His limbs finally unfreeze, and he’s at Jaehyun’s side in an instant, albeit a little clumsily. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, half to himself, bending over Jaehyun’s body and pressing an almost reverent kiss between his pecs, running a hand down his torso.

And when he looks up, Jaehyun is flushed a pretty pink, which makes Mark’s stupid dick twitch in his pants. “So are you,” Jaehyun points out, and Mark shakes his head.

“Not the same,” he says, crawling on top of him so he can reach everywhere with ease, pushing Jaehyun’s legs apart to make room for his own, grabbing his impossibly small waist and leaning in to lave over his pulse point. “Fuck,” he mumbles into Jaehyun’s skin. His heart is pounding in his chest but he can hardly hear it for the roar of blood rushing in his ears. Jaehyun tangles his fingers in Mark’s hair, sighing, and Mark is almost dizzy with desperation, his kisses haphazardly placed as he makes his way down from Jaehyun’s neck, wet and messy. Without meaning to, he rolls his hips, mindlessly chasing some kind of friction to relieve the tension that’s coiled tight in his belly, and they both moan, Jaehyun arching up to meet him.

“Mark,” Jaehyun whispers, and there’s a sweet tint to it that sends a shock of hot pleasure through Mark’s whole body.

“Lube?” Mark asks, cutting straight to the point because it’s a miracle he’s fighting through the fog of his brain at all. “Condom?” There’s a part of him that doesn’t fucking care. He wants to take Jaehyun right now, raw, using a little spit to get him wet and work him open, fast and rough with his impatience. Honestly, the only thing stopping him is the fear of doing serious damage, but it’s enough to curb his impulses. He satisfies himself by biting a hickey into the soft muscle of Jaehyun’s chest. His hips are still twitching, short, aborted movement, rutting down against Jaehyun’s cock, but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind.

“Bedside table, in the drawer,” Jaehyun replies, somehow calm, and it takes Mark a second to convince himself to peel away from him to get them. He finds them easily, the lube rolling forward when he yanks the drawer all the way open. Mark snatches it up, finding a condom in the back, and closes the drawer without looking, eyes already back on Jaehyun.

“Take your pants off,” Mark demands, setting the lube and condom down on the mattress so he can work on the button of his own jeans.

“You’re so eager.” Jaehyun’s tone is mild, but there’s an indulgent, teasing undercurrent to it. Still, he obeys, fingers finding his waistband as he looks Mark over, a fond warmth in his eyes. “You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

And oh, Mark likes that. He likes that a lot. Unfortunately, it has the exact opposite effect than Jaehyun probably intended; instead of being placated, Mark’s desire spikes impossibly higher. “Hyung,” he mumbles, kicking his jeans and underwear off and reaching for Jaehyun’s pants to help pull them away. He swallows roughly as Jaehyun’s cock springs free, hard and glistening at the tip. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he can already hear Johnny laughing at him, and Mark can’t even blame him. He never thought he’d beg a thirty-nine year old man to let him fuck him, but—well. In his defense, the forty-one-year-old in question is the most beautiful person on the planet, and has the prettiest cock Mark has ever seen. “Fuck, I—I know, but I need it. I need you. Please.”

Jaehyun just smiles at him, placid, shifting his legs wider. “I’m right here,” he says lightly, eyes earnest. “What are you waiting for?”

Mark doesn’t have an answer for that, so he pats around for the lube while he gets settled between Jaehyun’s legs. He fumbles with the cap, hands trembling with some mixture of adrenaline and desire as he squeezes a dollop out onto his index finger. He tosses the bottle aside and spreads some of the lube around Jaehyun’s rim before sinking his finger in. Jaehyun gasps quietly, tense at first, but relaxes quickly when Mark dips his head to press a few soft kisses to his hips and waist.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Jaehyun murmurs.

“I’ve had some practice,” Mark manages, pride bursting in his chest and making him feel dizzy. He keeps his movements gentle despite everything inside him screaming to hurry up, determined to make Jaehyun feel as good as possible. He kisses between Jaehyun’s ribs, then moves up to his chest, tonguing over a nipple when he gets close enough to reach to keep Jaehyun placated while he works his finger in and out.

Jaehyun fucking whimpers, one hand finding Mark’s hair. Mark swirls his tongue in a circle. If his mouth wasn’t busy he knows he wouldn’t be able to contain an absolute shit-eating grin. Jaehyun reacts to him so nicely. It’s kind of cute, and really hot. He’s glad Jaehyun has a house, not an apartment, glad he has a spacious backyard. Fewer neighbors to worry about. Mark wants him sobbing so loud the walls shake. He wants him ruined.

He finally pulls off when Jaehyun begins to squirm, shifting instead to his neck. He lays a row of kisses up the column of Jaehyun’s throat, letting Jaehyun stroke his hair and murmur praise, trying to pretend it has no effect on him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Mark whispers, scraping his teeth against the point of Jaehyun’s jaw.

“I don’t, ah, do this very often.” Mark pushes himself up so he can look at Jaehyun and sees that his ears are the same sweet pink as the blush coloring his cheeks.

“No?” Mark asks. “Then what were you doing on that app?”

Jaehyun flushes deeper pink. “You’re only the second person I’ve met that way. The first was… a while ago.”

A strange flare of jealousy shoots through Mark, hot and poisonous. He tries to shove it down. “Oh, sure,” he says instead, giving Jaehyun a sarcastic look.

“Besides, you were on it, too,” Jaehyun defends.

Mark smiles, leaning in to kiss him. The glide of his finger has grown easy, so he stops to accommodate a second, pushing back in slowly. Jaehyun sighs into his mouth, grip on his hair growing tighter until Mark’s in to the third knuckle and he relaxes back onto the pillows.

Mark breaks the kiss, mind racing as he makes what’s probably an ill-advised decision. “You wanna know why I was on there?” he asks. “Why I was really on there?”

“Not money?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly, curious.

Mark shakes his head. “I downloaded it because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I figured—it would be the easiest way to get something close.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen, and Mark laughs nervously, wondering if he miscalculated. “Guess I got super lucky.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says softly, his hand sliding down from Mark’s hair to cup his cheek. “So you weren’t even looking for a sugar daddy.” He sounds sort of amused, but there’s a sweetness underneath it.

Mark shakes his head. “I was looking for you,” he says. It comes out a little bit like a plea. I know I’m not supposed to want you. I know it’s strange. But I do, I do.

“I shouldn’t say this,” Jaehyun says, “but that’s hot. You wanted me, baby?” It’s Mark’s turn to blush and squirm now; he nods almost shyly as heat rises up his neck, his cheeks. “No wonder you seem so desperate.”

The only thing that stops Mark from combusting out of embarrassment on the spot is how gentle Jaehyun’s voice is. That, and the way his breath hitches every time Mark thrusts his fingers in—which is what Mark chooses to focus on instead of trying to come up with a reply. He kisses Jaehyun sweetly, curling his fingers as he pulls them back out, and after a few tries he strikes gold. Jaehyun makes a high, broken noise against his lips, hips jerking up almost violently. Mark does it again, kissing him insistently even when Jaehyun goes a little limp. He trembles beneath Mark as he finds a rhythm, petting over Jaehyun’s prostate with every few strokes, dark glee making his head swim.

Jaehyun’s other arm had found its way around Mark’s torso, fingers splayed across the planes of his back. Mark melts into his touch, letting a soft noise of satisfaction slip out with his next exhale.

It comes naturally, somehow. Mark feels like he’s hardly paying attention to what he’s doing, more of his energy invested in kissing Jaehyun than fingering him. He finds himself adding a third finger with barely a thought, like he can just tell when Jaehyun’s ready. He thought he’d be more nervous, maybe, clumsy and unsure, but now that the uncertainty is past, now that he’s in Jaehyun’s bed, now that he knows Jaehyun definitely doesn’t just see him as some stupid kid, it’s easy.

Jaehyun lets him squeeze his pinky in alongside the rest without complaint, lets him lick the backs of his teeth, lets him grip his jaw tight and mean. His hand is still warm on Mark’s back, thumb tracing gentle circles into his skin. Mark’s whole body hums with something he hasn’t felt before and doesn’t quite have the words for. It’s like power, but softer. It’s like peace, but hungrier.

At last, Mark’s fingers glide in and out with ease, so he releases Jaehyun, breaking the kiss and pushing himself back up so he’s sitting on his knees.

“Am I ready?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly, smiling up at Mark.

“I hope so,” Mark replies.

“I’m not gonna break, baby,” Jaehyun says, gentle. “Promise.”

I might, Mark thinks dizzily as he works on the condom. But he just nods. “Okay.”

He rolls the condom on and slicks himself up, doggedly keeping his eyes on his own hands instead of looking at Jaehyun, not sure if he wants to see what Jaehyun looks like when he’s watching him. He walks forward on his knees; Jaehyun spreads his legs wider without Mark asking him too, lifting them up to make room for Mark’s thighs. Mark reaches down, hooking his thumb into Jaehyun’s entrance so he can line himself up.

He pushes in, getting his thumb out of the way in time, slowing down even more when he feels Jaehyun tense up around him. And, oh, the heat of Jaehyun’s body—Mark’s hand flies to Jaehyun’s waist, his fingers digging into the skin as he draws in a sharp breath.

“Mark?” Jaehyun’s voice, so soft, just barely audible over the blood rushing in Mark’s ears.

“Yeah,” Mark says hazily, too embarrassed to try and explain that the reason he froze is because he’s terrified he’s about to come, like, right now. “Just gimme a second.” He takes another breath, hoping and praying that he can hold it together at least a little while longer so that he doesn’t disappoint Jaehyun completely.

He starts moving again, sinking in slow. He’s pretty sure he’s going to leave bruises on Jaehyun’s hip, but Jaehyun hasn’t complained at all. Mark finally looks up, and sees Jaehyun looking back. His cheeks are that same pretty pink, his lips messy with spit from when they were kissing. Mark can see small bruises littering his chest. But Jaehyun’s eyes are clear.

“Feels good?” he asks in that same soft voice.

Mark nods quickly, letting out a short punch of defeated laughter. “Maybe a little too good,” he admits. “I—I’m kinda scared to move. I swear I’m not—usually like this.”

One corner of Jaehyun’s mouth tugs up, revealing a dimple. Not fair, not fair, Mark thinks, almost plaintive. He’s so pretty, and Mark is so fucked. “Take your time,” Jaehyun encourages.

Mark does, pushing in fractions of an inch at a time, closing his eyes in the hopes that this will stop him from getting overwhelmed. The process draws a string of truly embarrassing noises out of him anyway, but at this point it’s the least of his concerns. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind, though; he’s reached up to rub circles around the point of Mark’s hip bone, offering a little comfort. At last, Mark bottoms out and releases a long breath.

“Mm,” Jaehyun hums. “Feel so full. Could just stay like this a little, I don’t mind. I like it.”

But Mark shakes his head. “I wanna fuck you, hyung.”

Mark hears the sheets rustling; Jaehyun must have shrugged. “Okay,” he says easily. “Some other time, then.” Mark nods; he would like that, but he kind of feels like he has a job to do, and Jaehyun cockwarming him isn’t gonna cut it.

Jaehyun finally relaxes around him and the suffocating desire ebbs somewhat. Mark blinks his eyes open, drawing his hips back cautiously, watching Jaehyun’s face for signs of discomfort. His heart pounds in his chest, his ears. He can feel the jumping of his pulse in his fingertips. He shifts his weight forward, rolling his hips as he plants a hand on the mattress, lining his body up with Jaehyun’s and dipping his head to mouth at Jaehyun’s pretty neck.

Now that their bodies have adjusted a little, Mark gets bolder, picking up the pace and putting some force behind each thrust, savoring the drag of his cock against Jaehyun’s walls, the way the tip catches on Jaehyun’s rim when he pulls out a little too far. He grabs a fistful of the sheets, knuckles turning white, tense from the exertion.

“Mark, baby,” Jaehyun pants, taking Mark’s jaw in one hand and turning his face so he has no choice but to look him in the eyes. “A little slower,” he says. “Hurts.”

“Fuck, sorry, ‘m so sorry,” Mark mumbles, trying to rein in the jackrabbiting of his hips. “I didn’t—I just—you feel so good, I—”

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun says, and then fucking giggles, and Mark thinks he sees stars, pleasure spiking under his skin and making him shake. How is he so cute? he thinks to himself hazily as he works to find a new rhythm. He’s a middle aged man, and he’s the cutest person I’ve met, maybe ever.

Mark shifts his hips a little on the next thrust in and Jaehyun moans quiet and pretty, grip on Mark’s jaw tightening a little. “Better?” Mark whispers.

“Much better,” Jaehyun replies, almost indulgent. Another thrust; another moan. “Fuck, Mark.” He tips his head back, jaw slack. “Yeah, just like that.” He settles again, finding Mark’s eyes, stroking his thumb over the hollow of Mark’s cheek. “Just like that,” he repeats, quieter. “Good boy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Mark whimpers, screwing his eyes shut and trying not to lose control. “Fuck, hyung, hyung.” He always knew he liked praise—he gets off on making his partner feel good more than feeling good himself, he always has—but it feels different, coming from Jaehyun. He feels dizzy with pride, and almost sick with an anxiety to keep doing well. He feels Jaehyun tugging him closer and goes blindly. He’ll let Jaehyun have whatever he wants.

Jaehyun kisses him sweetly, making soft noises of pleasure, hand still cupping Mark’s cheek. Like he’s something precious. Like he’s something worth holding. Mark kind of wants to die here, because he can’t imagine being happier than this—buried deep in the hottest man on the planet, being kissed by him, being called good boy, baby. He doesn’t think anything has felt quite like this.

The late afternoon sun has found its way into Jaehyun’s bedroom; Mark can feel it on his back. When he pulls back and opens his eyes, Jaehyun’s skin is a pale gold, his eyes warm and full of light.

“So pretty, baby,” Jaehyun says, the syllables broken up by the hitching of his breath.

Mark leans into his touch, turning his head so he can press a kiss to the heel of his palm. “So’re you,” he says, almost slurring. “Can I—can I touch you? Wanna make you feel good.”

“Please,” Jaehyun says.

Mark drops down to one elbow to make it easier to balance, rounding his back to maintain enough room between their bodies that he can reach his other hand down and wrap it around Jaehyun’s cock. He can feel how wet he is, can imagine the precome smeared and glistening on his stomach. He uses some of it to get his palm slick, spreading it down the length of Jaehyun’s cock until each stroke makes a filthy sort of noise. Jaehyun moans shakily as Mark speeds up his hand to match the pace of his hips.

“Such a pretty cock, hyung,” Mark mumbles. “I want it in my mouth next time. I’ll—mm—make you feel so good, you can even fuck my face. I can hold my breath for a really long time, y-you’ll see.”

“Mark,” Jaehyun breathes, pitchy and unstable. “Fuck, yes, want that.”

Mark runs his thumb over Jaehyun’s slit, smiling to himself when it makes Jaehyun give a hoarse cry. “Yeah?” he manages. “You’ll let me?”

“Mmhm, yeah, yes,” Jaehyun stutters. “Oh, fuck, Mark, so good.”

Mark leans closer, pressing his lips to the junction of Jaehyun’s shoulder and his neck, lapping at the skin. He tastes faintly of salt from his sweat; it makes Mark’s head spin. “Close?”

“Yes, yes.” Jaehyun’s hips are twitching, half-thrusting up into Mark’s fist to meet him. “Don’t stop.”

“Good,” Mark whispers, a little relieved. His own arousal is looming at the fringes of his mind, almost an impending threat. He wants to make sure Jaehyun is taken care of before he lets go. He fights to keep the same pace even when all he wants to do is go harder, rougher. But this is what Jaehyun wants, and Mark will give it to him. He nips at Jaehyun’s skin with his front teeth, mostly to ground himself, but Jaehyun moans low and almost guttural. Mark feels something sticky shoot up and hit his stomach, feels it dribbling down his knuckles.

“Ah, ah, Mark, fuck.” Jaehyun’s voice fills the room as he clenches down on Mark’s cock, his chest heaving under Mark’s as another, weaker spurt of come drips down Mark’s hand.

“Jaehyun,” Mark murmurs. His thrusts are no longer even or measured, but it doesn’t matter because he’s coming, too, Jaehyun’s legs wrapped around his waist and Jaehyun’s hand in his hair and Jaehyun’s come coating his fingers and stomach.

They lie quietly as they catch their breath. Mark knows he should pull out and get something to clean them up, but everything seems so far away. His limbs are heavy, his body tired and sated.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun says softly. Mark hums in agreement, which makes Jaehyun huff out laughter. The movement jostles Mark, and he lifts his head.

“I think if I try to move, my body’s gonna fall apart,” he says, and this gets him a full-bellied laugh. “Stop laughing at me, ‘m serious!”

“We can stay here a little longer,” Jaehyun agrees. “But d’you think you can move up a little? So I can kiss you?”

“Oh,” Mark says, already pushing himself up. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

They kiss lazily as the minutes tick by. Mark combs his fingers through Jaehyun’s soft hair with his clean hand. He can hardly feel the discomfort of the come drying on his body or the ache settling into his muscles. Jaehyun’s bed is comfortable and safe, the sun bright but not blinding, the air cool on Mark’s skin. In a way, Mark realizes that Johnny was kind of exactly right—Mark did need a good fuck. He’d been working nonstop since school let out at the beginning of the summer, and it’s only now that he realizes why he felt so tense. He’s glad it was with Jaehyun, though, a little giddy now that the post-orgasm glow has set in.

“Okay,” Jaehyun says finally. “Let’s get up.” Mark nods, reluctantly pushing himself up and off Jaehyun, pulling out as gently as he can and rolling to the side so Jaehyun can sit. “Do you still want to stay for dinner?”

“Of course I do,” Mark says.

Jaehyun smiles and Mark fights the urge to kiss him again. “Do you… want to stay the night?” Mark blinks. “You don’t have to,” Jaehyun adds quickly.

“No, I’d like that,” Mark says. “I’d really like that.”

Jaehyun’s pretty smile returns. “Good,” he says, half to himself. “Come on, let’s clean ourselves up and then order some food.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands; Mark follows him, coming around the foot of the bed as Jaehyun meanders over to the door Mark figured led to a bathroom.

“Jaehyun,” Mark says, reaching out to him.

Jaehyun stops, turning back to look at him, taking the offered hand. “Hm?”

Mark pulls him close and kisses him, a little clumsy, but Jaehyun just giggles again, kissing him back. “I’m glad it was you,” Mark says when they break apart. “On the app. Today.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says. His cheeks grow rosy again, but he’s smiling. “Me, too. I’m glad it was you, too.”

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