Tumgik
#but my goal is to finally live off my content
tsw1234 · 2 days
Text
Moth To A Flame - D.G.
"And you'll leave him, you're loyal to me"
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Word Count: 1549
Pairings: Dick Grayson x fem!reader
Notes: Heyyy pookies...how have you been... So, sorry for the long upload wait, y'all when I tell you that school's been kicking my ass like I need to lock in. I feel like I rushed towards the end so if you guys want any corrections or additions please let me know. I give my deepest apologies. Anyways let me not bore you, take this as an apology ;)
Synopsis: You've been hooking up with Dick Grayson (or mystery guy as your friends know him) for almost a year now. Despite multiple protests against it from some of your friends along with your best friend Jason Todd, you just can't seem to call it quits. Why?
Warnings: Toxic-ish and manipulative Dick, suggestive content, mentions of smut, cursing
Tumblr media
​​Oh Dick Grayson, where to even begin? Dick is a very goal oriented person; he's always believed in shooting for the stars, to do the impossible. It's safe to say he's always had a tendency to want things he shouldn't have (which isn't much considering his dad is Bruce Wayne).
Insert you, Jason Todd's best friend of almost 2 years and roommate of one. Last year, you and Jason decided to move in together. At this point, you were aware of his ‘Red Hood’ persona and it didn’t hurt that you knew how to do a stitch up or two. From there, your friendship only blossomed.
You were first introduced to the rest of the Wayne family at Bruce’s Gala, around the same time you and Jason moved in. Jason needed a plus one and who else better to ask than his bestie of course! So there you were, on the arm of Jason Todd in a red dress which complemented his red tie perfectly. From the moment you walked in, you caught the eye's of all Wayne family members, Jason was always alone, why wouldn't you? But you resonated with one Wayne in particular; and just like that you became Dick's newest obsession.
Dick being the man he is, tried everything under the sun to charm you (and he did) but you weren't the type of person to give in easily. Though what you weren't aware of, was Dick's ability to be patient and persuasive. And after three long, and agonizing weeks of sexual tension and flirty remarks, you finally gave in.
Flash forward to present day, you and Dick have been hooking up in secret for about 7 months now; and girl do you have him whipped. It doesn't matter that he's been fucking a different girl every week, you were his main priority. You were aware that he was hooking up with others, so you took it as an opportunity to do the same. But Dick wasn't too fond of your decision to reciprocate his actions, despite him doing the same, leading to a huge fight between the two of you.
Now Jason? Although in the dark about who you were hooking up with, he was still caught up regarding all the drama between you and Dick. Jason wasn't fond of this "mystery guy" you would tell him about. He didn't like the fact that "mystery guy" could call you, ask talk and you'd drop everything to go resolve whatever issues the two of you had. He didn't like hated how loyal you were to him.
Jason just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that a person as gorgeous and funny as you could ruin yourself over and over again for some douche. He wasn't the only one who expressed their dislike for Dick. Cue all of your friends having an intervention with you in your living room.
"Girl you guys have been hooking up, on and off for almost a year at this point. If he wanted to make it official, he would've. Stand up. If he can hook up with others, so can you!"
"How many girls does he have to fuck before you realize that he don't care about you. Was that drunken night when he came to you with hickeys not enough?"
"Why don't you go for Jason instead? He's the one for you, I feel it. He treats you so good, he truly cares for you and he truly loves you."
After hours of opinions exchanged and your friends giving you guidance on the situation, the day was done and the group chat had parted ways, each member returning to their homes. You take a shower and change into a shirt (that just happened to be Dick's) and a pair of shorts. Unbeknownst to you, there was still one more person paying you a visit.
In the midst of you watching your favorite movie whilst eating a snack you hear a series of knocks at your apartment. You pause the movie, place your snack to the side, and walk towards the door. Before opening it, you glance through the peephole in order to get a glimpse of who you're potentially about to interact with.
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear." you mutter as you open the door. "What do you want, Grayson?". He was still in his Nightwing suit which had to have meant he had just gotten off of patrol.
"Still giving me attitude, princess? I know we got into an argument but I at least thought you would've blown some steam off by now." he says walking past you, stepping into your apartment. You scoff in disbelief and turn your head to look at him. The audacity this man had was ridiculous.
"There's no way you just walked in here like that-"
"Relax princess, I'm just here to talk." he voices, throwing his hands up in defense. You roll your eyes and close the door behind you, making sure to lock it. "Whatever Grayson, I'm going to the bathroom. When I get back, you have five minutes to talk your head off and that's it." you warn.
Perfect timing. He's been trying to find an excuse to snoop around ever since he saw your friends leave your apartment, gossiping about the relationship between the two of you. He just needed evidence. In that moment he noticed your phone, that you left at the living room table, blowing up with notifications. Lucky him. After double checking to make sure you were still in the bathroom, he walked on over to where your phone was and picked it up. Your phone unlocked with ease the moment it saw his face thanks to him putting his Face ID in your phone. How he got your password to do so is a whole nother situation. Once your phone unlocked, he tapped on the messages within the group chat with your friends.
Reading those messages irked him. He didn't like your friends. He didn't like how they would speak about your relationship which he claimed they knew nothing about. He didn't like how they made him out to be the villain when it came to you. What really set him off were the comments they made about you and Jason. Why couldn't they respect the fact that you two were together hooking up.
Once you walked out the bathroom, Dick started reading out the messages one by one.
"[Name] get a grip."
Reply: "Seriously girl, we can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."
"Leave her alone guys, she clearly has conflicted emotions between him and Jason."
"Really? You're just going to let them talk about me that way? And you like my brother?". You could tell he's pissed as he has a stern tone in his voice.
"Why are you going through my phone? And how did you even unlock it?" you question. At this point you could feel your blood boil. "That's not what I asked."
"Are you for real right now?" you scoff. "You're so unbelievable!" you chastise, leading you to walk around in circles and go in a rant about how he was being unfair and hypocritical. If you were paying attention, you would've noticed the way Dick's body tensed up or how his jaw clenched. He was turned on by your frustration and he would've let you continue if that meant he could listen to you scold him some more, but you weren't the only one who had anger that needed to be released.
He grabs your arm and leads the both of you over to the couch where you sit.
"Your friends think so highly of Jason, as if he's some type of angel and it's sickening. Does Jason know that when you're scared at night or bored or horny you call me? Huh?". He's toying with the hem of your shorts. Your hands are folded across your chest and your head is turned away from him out of pure annoyance. That drives him crazy, you giving him attitude. He grabs your chin and pulls it towards him, forcing the two of you to make eye contact. Exactly what you've been avoiding. Step one of how to get you to forgive him.
"Does Jason know that it's me leaving you with the inability to walk the morning after I fuck you in your bed the previous night?"
"Fuck you." you dispute. Girl he's been trying since he entered your apartment. "Is that an invitation?" he quips, raising an eyebrow. You suck your teeth at him. Taking a deep breath, and closing your eyes you try to remember what your friends said. Fully convinced that you were standing your ground, you open your eyes only for them to meet with Dick's blue ones, filled with lust, staring at you expectantly. Damn it.
"Come on pretty girl, please?". You hated when he begged. You hated it when he begged because you knew that you would give in every time and that's what he was banking on. And so, you drop all your walls and give in, which you'll make a mental note to scold yourself for. But that's tomorrow you's problem. Right now? Your attention is dedicated to the man currently in between your thighs.
93 notes · View notes
aratedfreyjablog · 2 days
Text
A Talk about OG!Gamigin including Theory!
PB why are you likes this!!! Why do you have to pull my heart strings and make me like a character to the point I'd be willing to throw everything, only to off them!!!
Seriously, I'll be willing to throw all my resources for OG!Gamigin or even beg PB for him to either get revived in the story or have his own card so I can see him co-parent our drago!Gamigin and Jjok with Lucifer!!!
*Spoilers for Gamigin's comic under cut
Look at this guy! OG!Gamigin went from looking like this:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
To this:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In a span of a single week from pouring his life force to save drago!Gamigin!!!
Literally, giving his all with his thoughts behind his action summing up as finally being able to make his life worth it by being able to save someone from the horrendous war. And that's regardless of race as he willingly gives everything for a dragon he finds injured in a forest.
The comic truly is tragic as it's obvious drago!Gamigin held affectionate sentiment towards OG!Gamigin, not only because, like Lucifer, he saved his life. But it seems like he and OG!Gamigin were able to forge a strong bond where drago!Gamigin goes as far as to swallow OG!Gamigin to prevent him from completely disappearing while making it his goal to fulfill everything OG!Gamigin ever wanted to do.
Drago!Gamigin also refers to OG!Gamigin as his friend in his lobby voiceline, where it seemed that it was OG!Gamigin who used to sing to the jingle of drago!Gamigin's staff.
Tumblr media
In addition to all of this and disregarding my biasness towards him, I genuinely would like to see OG!Gamigin in the future content as both drago!Gamigin's voice line and comic emphasize on "disappearance" rather than simply dying. This makes is plausible that there's a possibility OG!Gamigin can be revived/brought back as to existing separated from drago!Gamigin. Unless, PB was just trying to sugar-coat things which would devastate me more than anything else now.
There's also questions on the concept of giving one's life to another being since while receiving OG!Gamigin's life and taking up his existence, drago!Gamigin is able to hear all of OG!Gamigin's thoughts and receive all of his desires. So, on top of taking a demon's existence and becoming said being, it's unclear who's powers these phenomenon belongs to - OG!Gamigin's or drago!Gamigin's.
Another set of questions relates to the whole timeline of Hell's development many of us are trying to find out (e.g., how did demons came to be, who is Hell's first king, who's the actual oldest demon in Hell, etc.). It's obvious OG!Gamigin had been living in Hell longer and perhaps may be older than some of the other 72 demons though to what existent is unknown.
Either way, it's safe to say OG!Gamigin can be added to the list of characters that is probably interlocked with the main lore of WHB and PB's general lore as a whole (looking at Astaroth and not forgetting his line about how it's not bad to fall from grace + Buer's contract with an Inugami).
54 notes · View notes
hoshigray · 2 months
Text
𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | satoru gojō
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied that reader is a virgin - first kiss - awakening feelings - virginity loss - kissing/making out in a closet - thigh riding - grinding/humping - sex in shared rooms; college dorms (empty) - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - orgasm denial- clitoral play (sucking, pinching and swiping) - missionary position - protected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, gorgeous, pretty, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Geto, Shoko and Mei Mei - humor bc I'm [not] funny - mention of vaginal pain, spit and tears.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (i'm so sick...)
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: yessirrrr let's get this party started, shall we? >:333 plz enjoy the first part of this series!! and tysm for 5.3k !!! y'all are too kind && happy bday to my gal, jazzy!! hope you enjoyed your special day, jazzy jam c:
❤︎ « next story
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!”
“BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU, Y/N L/N!”
“They’re at it again already, huh?”
“Yeah, man, it’s going to two o’clock. Might as well enjoy the show.”
College is hard enough as is. The fact that you’re now back for the spring semester is tiring enough, wanting to get these classes over with and wrap this up. Spring, Easter, and Summer break are just right around the corner, the cherry on top for this exhausting second half of your junior year. Those are the end goals!
But alas, the semester just started. The students scramble around buying their textbooks and switching courses around, struggling to make final move-in decisions and already stressing over seasonal depression at this time of year. Spring semester, huh? Same old, same old.
Although there are negatives that make it nerve-racking, there are still good things that come with this junior year. Finally over with winter break, you’re excited to be back to living with your roommates, Utahime, Mei Mei, and Shoko! They’re your girlfriends for a reason; missing hanging and stressing with them as they made your college experience much better than you expected. 
And it doesn’t end there, either! You missed study sessions at the campus café with your second-year peers, Yu Haibara and Kento Nanami. The two best friends always help with your studies whenever you need it. And, of course, you can’t forget about their roommate and your friend, Geto. The tall, raven-haired Biology major is always looking out for you and paying visits to study with Shoko. There was even a time he helped with a mouse situation in your dorm! Poor Utahime that day – saw the rodent when she came out of the shower.
However, you’re not exactly thrilled to see everyone after coming back. You throwing a middle finger at someone on the opposite side of the pathway should be evidence of such. “Oh, go jump off a cliff, Gojo!”
“Hah! I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!” Satoru Gojo was the direct roommate of Suguru Geto, best friend of his and Shoko, and was the star player of the campus basketball team. But most of all, he’s the kid you despise with every fiber of your being. “I’d be more entertained with you slipping on some ice.”
“Oh, you wish! I saw you slip on some ice yesterday on your way to Professor Yaga’s class.” You puff your chest with pride when you see the white-haired guy suck his teeth in annoyance. “Made my whole day, what a fucking moron. How about slowing down next time? You were late anyway!” 
Snowy brows furrow with a scoff. “God, you really are a perfect roommate for Utahime; the both of you are so tiny and angry at the world around you for no reason.” 
Utahime, standing beside you during this yelling competition, decides to chip in after that remark. She almost popped a vein, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY, SATORU!?” 
“You heard me!” He barks a laugh at the two of you, turning around to go on his way. “Heard it’s gonna snow later tonight. Be sure to find a nice, big, puffy jacket and some boots so the storm doesn’t sweep you away, Y/n~.”
“I’ll be sure to shove an icicle up your ass before that, you fucker!” You turn on your heel and stomp your way out of the scene, Utahime following your move. “Hmph! Hate his ass so much…”
“Tch, right there with you.” Your roommate sighs heavily to exude the aggression. “But damn, the way you two go at it is worse than mine.” 
She is not wrong; it’s true – everyone within the campus grounds knows how much you and Gojo can’t stand each other. It’s no secret; at least you two make that apparent everywhere you go. This little feud between you started freshman year with you two in the same first-year engagement program. Tiny disagreements turned into narrowed glares, which then pivoted into prominent arguments, and now here we are. 
You hoped that freshman year would be the last you’d ever see of that snow-haired prude. Unfortunately, you were wrong. The year after, you were unhappy to discover he’s best buds and roomies with Geto. And what’s worse is that you were ill-fated to share a class with him every semester — especially this one with Professor Naga for Contemporary Issues. Is this the universe’s way of punishing you for something? For what!?? 
You’ve been a good kid, doing what you can and getting the grades that brought you merit and accolades. So, you don’t get how this one guy with his stupid round sunglasses is getting under your skin. So fucking annoying…
You hate him. You hate everything about him. From the way he immediately gives you a smug look when you walk into the room and take your seat right in front of him. The way he surprises you from behind because he finds your reactions amusing. The way he relentlessly calls your name to get your attention when you’re obviously ignoring him, even when he doesn’t need you for something. 
It all makes you heated. You hate Satoru Gojo. I hate him so much!
“…hear me?…Y/n?”
You blink, realizing you were too deep in thought for your ears to pick up Utahime calling out for you. “Hmm? What’s up?”
She pulls out the keys to the dorm from her coat. “So? You coming along?”
Huh? “Where are you going?”
“To Haibara’s get-together?”
Oh, hell no! “No, Uta. I think I’ll stay here.”
The dark-haired girl watches you walk past her when she opens the door. “Why?? It’s the first Friday night of the semester; it’s not gonna be a big party or anything. Just close friends.”
“What are we talking about?” Shoko chimes in after leaving the bathroom, brushing her teeth with sleepy eyes. “Haibara’s thing tonight?”
Utahime nods hurriedly at the drowsy nursing student. “I’m trying to convince Y/n to come!”
The brunette shrugs at the comment, following you two to your room. “Well, it’s not like I’m going either.” She snickers when the eldest dark-haired roommate turns to her with a hurt expression. “Sorry. I already have notes I need to get behind on. You can tell the guys I said hi, though.” 
Another sigh leaves Utahime as she puts her bag on her desk. “…Mei Meiiiii,”
“Yesss~?” The fourth roommate calls out from the hallway. 
“Are you going?”
“Mmmm, not sure.” Mei Mei comes to the doorframe, her long silverish-blue hair done in pigtails with a green skin-care mask covering her face. “Got a meeting for my club to head to later. And even then, it might still be a while for me to join, depending on if people are hanging out afterward.” 
Now is when the Utahime whines to her hands before she turns back to you, sitting on your bed. “Y/n, please, come with me!”
You don’t give in to her cries. “No, think I’ll stay and keep Shoko company.”
But she doesn’t give up. “Please! It’s just a small group of friends and maybe a few classmates Haibara’s familiar with. No biggie!”
“Small group of friends, huh?”
“Yes!”
“You know who else are his friends?” You lift a brow when she does the same. “His roommates: Nanami, Geto, and—“
“Gojo…” Utahime completes your sentence in defeat, understanding why your reluctance is present. 
“Sorry, Uta. Maybe next time.” 
Now, you’re not saying you’ve never been to the guys’ place before; they reside on the other side of campus where senior housing is (Nanami’s pick because he’s an RA). However, it’s the first Friday night of the semester. Meaning it’s the first free weekend for most students. And you’re going to ruin everyone’s fun by being in the same place as Gojo? Yeah, no thanks.
That is until Mei Mei says, “Actually, I heard from a friend that the basketball team are planning on going out somewhere tonight.”
Shoko adds on while taking out her toothbrush to appropriately speak to her friends. “Yeah, now that you mention it, Gojo told me he probably won’t be at the place in the first place. Something about meeting up with a group for one of his classes.”
All separate reasons from different accounts, yet that only fuels Utahime to beam out of her mini-depression and face you once more. “See? Gojo won’t be there by the time we get there! He’ll be busy with a group project – or whatever – and will hang with his sports buddies. So, you up for it now?” 
Your brows trench down. “I…I don’t know—“
If there’s one thing the oldest roommate is good at, it’s not giving up. And it’s because she bats her pretty brown eyes and gives you the most grandiose pleading puppy face she can. It’s the oldest manipulation tactic in the book, yet it works by making your heart cringe.
Of all things to be dragged into now, it was a party? The semester just started, and you haven’t even touched a single piece of reading yet. Is this a good idea? You can’t really go based on the perspective of your roommates because what’ll happen on the off-chance you do see Gojo? The thought of it is already headache-inducing.
Then again, it’s the first time since last semester that you’ll be able to see the other guys. You didn’t say goodbye to Geto and Haibara before break because they were swarmed with finals, and Nanami was gone the moment he found out all his exams were take-home. You’re not much for parties, to be quite honest. Regardless, it would be nice to catch up on the gang and see how they’re doing before we all revert to non-stress-free college life.
You release a sigh through your nostrils before making your decision begrudgingly. “...Don’t make me regret this.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
I regret this so fucking much…
Well, this night was going to be quite a drag. Why? Let’s go over the reasons, shall we?
The party that was supposedly at Haibara’s dorm? So, it turns out, there was a change of plans, and to be relocated somewhere else — like outside campus grounds. Screw walking, you and Utahime had to go by car with Geto to go to the party, following down the main street into this big, beautiful neighborhood and parking by a big house. Perfect for housing an event for many people to drink, dance, and vibe.
Oh yeah, that was another thing, too; the many that were attending this fucking party. Word got out about the get-together, so, of course, lots of people wanted to come and celebrate the first weekend. So, not only are you outside campus grounds, but now you’re forced to interact with a crowd rather than a small group of people. You practically have been to every corner of the place to disassociate with people you didn’t know. 
So, where are you now? Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, where the bass of the speakers downstairs can be heard. You’re not alone — sitting in a circle with Utahime, Geto, and a couple of other kids who’re present at your university. What’s happening in the room? Just a chill game of truth, drink, or seven minutes in heaven; either you answer truthfully to a question, drink to avoid it, or go to the closet and do what you want with the person who spun the bottle on you.
But, there was nothing chill about the game, and the players would agree to that notion apprehensively. Because you most definitely silently dreaded every second of this entire night. Why? How about asking the person across you that you’ve been glaring at since you opened the bedroom door and saw his face?
Apparently, as word got out about the party, the college basketball team heard about it and decided to come and celebrate. Meaning the whole team is at this party. Let’s say that again: the entire basketball team – all the players – are here to enjoy the party.
The person who stood across from you sat criss-cross with long, jean-covered legs, leaning with his hands behind him, a navy blue sweatshirt, and dark round shades that cover his eyes that you know are looking dead at you. And a smug grin that patronizes you to the core.
You peer to your night, giving Utahime the nastiest look you can. And the eldest could only meekly mumble an “I’m sorry…” with twiddled thumbs.
Satoru Gojo looked at you, and you frowned right back at him. The tense atmosphere between you two was enough to suffocate the other players. Some would try to break the tension by playing the game. But even then, it was still strenuous. One girl rolled the bottle on Geto, to which he picked “truth” and answered her question: “How did you and Gojo meet?”
Even though he didn’t pick the option, he’d take a small swig of his beer. “Satoru and I have been friends since middle school — same with my other bud, Shoko. We’ve been inseparable since, and now we’re here. He can be an asshole, though, so watch out.”
A guy spun the bottle on Utahime and asked, “Were you ever interested in Gojo?” The raven-haired girl clicked her teeth and took a chug, drinking the whole thing in one sig. 
“Hmph! I’d rather drink sweat from Professor Gakunaji’s crusty beard and eyebrows!” She’d admit after a burp.
“Ahaha! That’s a sight I’d like to see,” Gojo would chuckle at her insult, prompting a few around him to laugh. “Bet you’d get more satisfaction from it than being with me anyway.” 
The senior rolls her eyes before opening another bottle. “Fucking bastard…”
Another spin to the bottle after a couple comes out of the closet all close and giggly. This time, it lands on you. Some bubbly girl who had her eyes all up on Gojo, her nipple piercings able to be seen from her crop tee, was the one who spun it. She asks you, “Y/n, could you please tell me why you hate Satoru so much?”
You couldn’t fight the twitch of your eye. Of fucking course. You’re in no mood to drink, and you barely know this girl to think of being in the closet with her. You exhale through your nostrils, “….We’re friends, to an extent.”
“To an extent?” She asked more questions with a naive tone. “But Satoru's so nice, no?”
Oh, drop it, will you? And why are you referring to him by his first name like you know him? “We’re—“
“They mean that we’re kinda friends, kinda not.” Of course, nothing can be to yourself because the white-haired nuisance went ahead and answered your question. “They’re friends with my roomies, and my friends are their roomies. So, I guess that makes us friends by association. At least that’s the only way to see it since we nearly argued our heads off freshman year.”
You scoff with narrowed eyes, “By association, huh.” 
He quirks a brow up. “Mhmm.”
Good God, the more you two throw invisible daggers at each other, the more uncomfortable people feel being in this room. Oh, but don’t worry; the night gets even worse. Three turns later, it was your turn to spin the bottle. And – sit with me here – just guess who it lands on? Bingo! Satoru Gojo.
The hushed gasps that filled the room were telling; it was bound to happen, but no one thought it would happen. The star-crossed haters spun the bottle and landed on each other. And since Gojo doesn’t drink (and he finds the questions rather lackluster), he chooses the closet. The gasps were louder that time, and your blood began to boil.
The first time it happened was uneventful; it’s what you preferred. After the door closed, you told him, “Don’t even think about touching me.” It was just pure silence for the entire seven minutes. You sat on one side of the emptied closet while Gojo was on the other. There were the occasional sniffles of your nose and his loud yawns. But other than that, you two stayed at your respective sides of the closet. Seven minutes of no words, just keeping to yourself and watching the lava lamp in your corner be your light. 
You two survived the first set of seven minutes, not a scratch on either of you, to everyone’s thankful stars. Keywords: first set. Because why wouldn’t there be more? 
When it got to Gojo’s turn, he spun the bottle and got you! So, here you are, walking into the closet again with your notorious opp. You swore to God this had to be the universe’s way of toying with you as if the start of this semester wouldn’t be a handful to deal with already. 
You’re back on your side of the closet, groaning at your hands. It’s okay, Y/n, calm down. You can sit through another seven minutes. You got this! Don’t even act like he’s there…
And so you compose yourself, watching the heated, yellow wax of the purple lava lamp prompt up to the top to cool and sink back down. Six minutes…Five…Four—
“So, let’s say, hypothetically,” your eyelids closed shut for your eyes to roll freely. “I asked for a little something-—“
“I guess I should’ve added no talking, too. Thought that was rather self-explanatory to you.” You shut him down quickly. “And I thought I said don’t even think of touching me.”
“Well, you’re not in control of my brain,” you don’t have to turn your head to know that the fucker is looking at you. “Besides, I did say hypothetically.”
This motherfucker… ”Well, then, I’d, hypothetically, break every single one of your fingers and give them to Mei Mei so she can sell them to all your fangirls.”
“Hah! Nice to know you see me of high value.” He shifts his feet around from their crisscrossed position. “Bet you’d keep one of them.”
You scoff. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself! I’m annoyed just from not looking at you; what the fuck would I need your stupid finger for.” 
“Hmmm, I can think of many, like—“
“Do not finish that sentence, Gojo.” Your tone dialed lower; a warning. He notices it, bringing his hands up defensively. 
“Jeez, lighten up, Y/n.” He says while leaning against the back wall. “With an attitude like that, no other guy or gal in that room will ever want to be in a closet with you.” 
Oh, you don’t say, fuckface! “I barely want to be in this closet with you. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here! I only came for Utahime, assuming it would be a small party…How the hell did you even get here? I thought the basketball team was going out somewhere.“ 
“Awww, you spying on me, Y/n?” Oh, you hate his fucking snicker, shoving a middle finger in his direction. “We were supposed to be at some restaurant joint, but a few of the crew flunked out on us and said they’d go to some ‘big party,’ then everyone wanted to go, and now we’re here. You know I don’t like alcohol, but I just tagged along because Suguru was here. I didn’t know about you, though.” 
You bring your hands to your face to sigh in private. “We gotta stop meeting like this…It’s like I can never escape you.”
“…Is that a bad thing?” 
You open your mouth to refute, but no words leave….Huh?
That was…..odd. Why did he ask that question like that: you couldn’t detect a remnant of childish malice he’d been throwing at you back and forth. Even when you faced him, his face was straight ahead. But when you don’t answer, his left eye goes to his peripheral to glimpse at you.
What the…Is he being genuine right now? 
You gaze at him briefly before turning away, “I….I don’t know.” He hums to your response. “….Do you think so?”
Gojo shrugs. “Can’t say so either.” You hum back, and the silence takes over once again.
Okay, now things are even more awkward. You came into this closet with irritation, yet somehow, it vanished into thin air. It was the one thing that’s been constant throughout this evening. Now that it’s gone, you can only replay the moment from a few seconds ago in your head. 
Is it a bad thing? Why would he ask that? Of course, it’s a bad thing! Has he forgotten how much hostility we have for each other? Jesus Christ….Wait, why did he say he didn’t know either? What does that even mean!!??
“You look nice.” 
You—……I’m sorry, what???
The way you snapped your head back to him, you could’ve sworn you heard your neck crack. Holy fuck, why the hell was he looking at you right now? His round glasses shine from the lava lamp, so you can’t see his eyes.
“Wh….What?” It was cold; the weather app said it would snow later tonight. Therefore, the temperatures and winds were unforgiving after sunset. So you took it upon yourself to dress warmly. It was all simple, just a white, long-sleeved halter blouse that matched your black skirt – it was the only nice thing you had outside of regular leggings. And you covered your legs with black pantyhoses but decorated with cute white knitted leg warmers. 
He repeated in a singing tune. “You look nice.”
When it came to the white-haired guy in this closet with you, there were rare moments where you felt as though you were shocked by him. This was beyond astounding, the comment continuing to ring throughout your ears.
You blinked at him before averting your eyes down to your hands, trying to distract the increase of heat on your cheeks by intertwining your fingers together. “….Thank you, Gojo.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he’d shrug again, chuckling to himself before adding on. “It’s way better than your other outfits. Baggy old sweatshirts, bags under your eyes even if you’re wearing glasses, sweatpants with stains. You look like a homeless librarian.”
Annnnnd just like that, with the drop of your quivering lip, all the warm feelings you felt for a minute evaporated in seconds. The anger returned with the twitch of a brow. “…Tch, gee, thanks. I can’t say the same for you.” 
“Oh, you know you look cute when you’re jealous~.”
You almost busted a nerve. Who the hell are you calling, cute? “As if. From the sound of it, you must be jealous of me; who told you to be looking and criticizing what I wear? Must be rough not being able to wear comfortable clothes all the time, huh?”
“Shut the hell up,” he finally snaps, and you stick your tongue out in victory.
“No, I’ll keep going! I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect, but not everyone wants to put on their best outfits to impress you, not like your fangirls who get their best bras to push up their breasts for you to notice.”
“Huh, you lookin’ at other girls' boobies? Wow, Y/n, never took you as a pervert.” He laughs at your stare of pure anger. “You are jealous, huh? That I’m talking at other girls and not you? Awww, don’t be so selfish; there’s plenty of me to go around!” 
You snarl at him. “Ugh, you’re so gross! I don’t want anything to deal with you. So all those girls can have you and rip you to shreds for all I care. Let them know how much of a big fucking baby the wonderful, amazing Satoru Gojo is when he drops his ice cream on the floor and cries on Geto’s shoulders. Or that you’re such a lightweight that you accidentally vomited in Nanami’s cup one time, which he threw at you...Or maybe I should tell them.”
His brows furrow, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would, and then some.” You sneer. “In fact, I’ll go downstairs, grab that red punch, and spill it right on you in front of that girl next to you. I’ll make your hair look like strawberry shaved ice.” 
He leans his cheek against his fist with a huff. “I take it back; you don’t look nice at all. So uncute.”
You gasped with trenched brows. “Excuse me!?”
“You heard me, you’re uncute!” Yup, today was the day: you’re going to choke the hell out of this motherfucker. “I feel bad for any guy who'd wound up in this closet with you, dealing with such a little devil.” 
“You’re one to talk, dickhead! I’d much rather be stuck in this closet with anyone else — even Geto!”
“Taah, as if! I bet you never even had your first kiss with such an attitude like that.”
Again, you open your mouth to say something, yet words evade you at that very moment. And Gojo catches it quickly. Because his brows raise, lifting his head back up, eyes scanning your face. 
Oh fuck.
“...”
Don’t.
“….Y/n,”
Don’t say it.
“You never had your first ki—“
BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!
He couldn’t finish that sentence, thank God, because the phone alarm from the outside rang. Seven minutes are up — this session is up, so you quickly stood up and opened the closet door. 
With swift feet, you sit back next to Utahime, your eyes downcast to the bottle, avoiding Gojo’s feet coming around and taking his spot across from you. Your roommate perks at your silence, “You okay, Y/n?”
A nod is offered to her, “Yeah, I’m fine.” No, you weren’t. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your skin dropping in color. And you can feel the eyeballs from across boring into your being. “Let’s just keep playing.”
And so the game carried on from Gojo’s turn. Your eyes could only ever look at the bottle, hoping it would never land on you from there on out. But that would be the easy way out, and – as life is – nothing goes your way when you want it to be.
Because when it gets to your turn, you watch with patient eyes as the glass spins on the cold hardwood floor. One spin goes by, and another swings around. Finally, it stops, the neck of the bottle pointing vertically from you, and your whole figure washes in apprehension with the hushed sounds of exclamation of the other people in the room. 
Alas, the bottle pointed to Gojo. It was inevitable – you couldn’t avoid his presence since the last session anymore. You look at him, your brows scrunched with mercy. But he points to the closet with his chin, and you follow his lead to the small space with anxiousness at every step. 
Back to your respective stations in the closet. You can only use the mesmerizing wax of the lava lamp as a sort of comfort – a distraction for your nerves that are at an all-time high. Why were you so nervous? All he did was ask if you ever had your first kiss taken.
Yeah, that’s the problem! Why did he have to know that!? Ughhhh, I should’ve just lied or something…Now what? Will he make fun of me for not having my first kiss taken yet? What is this, middle school!?? The thoughts in your head were a battle to deal with, one personal worry after another.
But all that washes away when the silver-haired guy finally breaks the quiet after a minute. “…Wanna kiss me?”
It felt like your heart dropped at that abrupt question; the warm circulation coursing through your body transitioned to an ice-cold sensation. Your breathing stops, and your eyes shoot wide at the person you’re with. “….Wha….What did you say?”
He doesn’t hesitate at your request. “Wanna kiss?”
Have….Have you lost—“your mind!? Why would you ask me that??” You whisper yelled at him so the people outside don’t hear you.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not?”
Why not?!? “Gojo, you can’t be serious. Just because I never had my first kiss doesn’t mean I need it to happen this instant! Are you that much of a horndog that you’d ask—“
“Let me explain, alright!?” He yells in whispers back with a hand raised to stop your rambling, and you hold your tongue. “Listen, I’m not asking to be a dick, okay? I just thought that…ya know, being in a place full of strangers, someone’s bound to be in this closet with you and ask you for a kiss.”
Your face screws to a magnificent expression of confusion you could ever contour. “Why are you concerned about who I kiss? It’s not like I’d agree or—“
“Yeah, but like, what if they did, huh?” His sky-blue eyes peek from above his sunglasses. The sharpness they carried told you he was serious about this — like he was serious about you. That…That was so off of him. “What if some weirdo forces themselves on you, and me and Suguru can’t help you in time, huh? I can think of two guys in this room who’d probably do that.” 
It takes a few seconds for you to soak in his words, “….So? What are you getting at?” He opens his mouth but stops from saying something, his pointer finger up but back to a fist. You could tell; whatever he was thinking had him in mental turbulence.
He releases a deep sigh before saying, “I’m just…I’m saying, wouldn’t it be better to have your first kiss with someone you know, at least?”
You couldn’t believe he was saying such things to you. “And…you think you’re the one I should….kiss?”
“….I don’t hear a no.” 
You wanted to refute that statement — challenge him or prove him wrong! You looked at his face, examining every feature to find an indication that whatever he was saying was just a way to get under your skin. He loves to poke fun at you, so why wouldn’t he use this as a perfect opportunity?
However, you couldn’t find anything. His eyes were sincere, stationed right back on yours. You saw his Adam’s apple move from a gulp, letting you know that he was a little nervous, too. And your gaze drifted to his mouth, the thought of his lips being on yours staining your brain for the first time. It was scary to think about, your heart racing to no end. 
“Y/n,” he said your name so quietly that you almost missed it. “Do you trust me?”
What an odd question to ask in this awkward atmosphere. Do you trust Satoru Gojo, the boy you would smack with a given chance? He’s undoubtedly the most annoying person you’ve ever bumped into — a thorn in your side since freshman year. He is such a tactless fool, doing and saying whatever he thinks comes to mind, picking on you like you were a child, and not taking you seriously when you wanted him to. You could list many things that you saw wrong with this guy.
Yet, he wasn’t the worst. There hasn’t been an instance where you felt uncomfortable around him, only annoyance. He was friends with Geto and Shoko; that alone should be enough to tell you he’s someone worth depending on. And even when you two would be tasked to do something together, you’d surely click your tongue and bicker until the cows came home. But at the end of the day, you still knew how to work with one another and get the job done.
In all things considered, Satoru Gojo was an irritant. Even so, he was an irritant you could depend on — to trust. 
Breathing was a hard thing to do, taking in air and exhaling excruciatingly slow. You chew on your bottom lip and give him a curt nod. “I…I trust you, Gojo.”
He lets your answer sink in for a bit before he moves his position, his back to the wall while facing you, legs straight down to the ground. He pats on a thigh, “C’mere.”
Hesitance was there for a split second, but you followed his command and quietly maneuvered your way toward his direction, situating on top of his legs. Of course, you were anxious as hell; your ears and cheeks shared a warmth unbearable to host. Your figure being so close to his, you had to be dreaming. 
But you weren’t. The hands he placed on your waist prove so, earning a gasp to leave you. His voice is low for just the two of you to hear. “Put your hands on my shoulders…Ya scared?” A slow nod is what you give him, and he chuckles lightly. “It’s okay. Try closing your eyes for me. Relax, I’m not gonna do anything dumb.”
He only said that because of that look you gave him. He is going to do something to you — just nothing too rash. 
“Trust me, pretty.”
Pretty? Yes, he just called you pretty. You were used to him calling you dumb names to get you riled up, yet none nearly sweet and fitting the mood like this one. It made your heart skip a beat.
With that, you held back reluctance when closing your eyelids. It made you a little uneasy, unable to see him in front of you, what he was doing, what he looked like while having you on him like this.
Suddenly, you squeak when something softly presses down to your clavicle. It was his lips. 
He snickers, “Ya know, I gotta admit.” He brings his mouth up your neck with kisses, your breath shaking with every peck, and your hands clinging onto his sweatshirt. “It’s kinda nice seeing you be all shy on top of me like this.”
“Go..jo...” you flinch at his soft kiss on your forehead, his hands rubbing your sides.
“Don’t do that. Call me by my first name.” You can feel him bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing your bottom lip gently with his thumb. “I know you know it. I wanna hear it with your voice.”
Holy fuck, this got intense way too fast. He brings his nose close to yours, and you shiver at the contact. It only means he’s mere centimeters away. Thank God your eyes were closed now because you swear you’d turn to stone if you snuck a peek.
“S..Sa…Toru—Mmmph!?“
And there it was, the inexorable. Gojo’s lips fleshed with yours softly, nothing too explicit or unpleasant for you. It was a simple kiss, yet it felt so foreign to you. Your first kiss had been with Satoru Gojo. What a momentous day.
It lasted a few seconds, your body stiff and hands balled to fists nonetheless. He removes from you with a soft noise between your lips, the heat from his face taken with him now that you have space to breathe. You open your eyes for him.
“There ya go,” he says with a small smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb while his forefinger plays with your earlobe. “Was it so bad?”You huffed, shaking your head no. Gojo hums, the hand on your waist gripping your flesh faintly. “….Can I kiss you again?”
Your breath hitched. It was a tiny request. One more wouldn’t hurt, right? You nod, closing your eyes again and awaiting his move.
Gojo leans in and claims your lips again, a soft hum from him when his face is back on yours. The next one was a little more risqué than the last, your bottom lip being taken by his playfully. The third kiss was where the mood dialed to a more wanton plane, him nibbling on your lip to allow him access. It’s here that Gojo can’t contain the reins, removing his glasses, “Come here, cutie.”
And you can’t help yourself either, succumbing to these smooches while wrapping your arms around his neck. Gojo’s no better, snaking his hand to the back of your neck and his other sneaking down to your butt.
You break the kiss to inquire, “Hahhh—…you pervert,” your eyes half-lidded. 
He puffs a laugh, “Whaaat? I thought you’d like me to be touchy.”
You don’t admit anything to him, just slamming your face to his again. You decided to be a little adventurous and lick his lips. Gojo senses the initiative and takes your tongue to suck on. The whimper you let out was too cute, egging him on to suck and tease the muscle more. 
It makes you dwell in the moment more, your limbs no longer stiff, yet your hips subtly move voluntarily. The friction from your groin rubbing on his jean-covered thigh was strangely enticing, your restraint becoming lesser the more you moved. And it gets worse after both Gojo’s hands creep into your skirt and tease your ass with squeezes.
“Ahhh, mmmm, Satoru..” you wailed. 
“Relax, baby,” there it goes again, another cute pet name to call you. He really knew how to get you going. “Let me take care of you….Mmmm”
He shoves his tongue into your mouth – not too forceful to scare you, but enough to get that he is impatient. You moan to his mouth, a hand grabbing tuffs of his snowy hair. 
His nose is pressed to your cheek like yours, and it’s getting harder to breathe now that things are getting intimate. But it all felt good, and the mood was just right. You rub your chasm onto his leg, which he lifts just a bit to make grazing your groin a little better. And God, the way his hands groped your butt, it turned you on even more. 
Ohh fuck, tongues swirl around each other, your head begins to pound, and your ears ring from the heat on your face.. Oh, God, you could feel a hand come up to the top of your stocking, teasing its way down your skin and to the hem of your underwear. Please, please—
BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!
Even so, everything freezes in time, and both you and Gojo stop whatever you’re doing. Lips still on lips, your ass on his lap, and his middle and forefinger barely grazing the crack of your ass. It’s here that everything hits you all at once: you are not the only one here — you’re not even in your room! You’re still at the party you were dragged into, in some stranger’s bedroom closet, smooching with your supposed most hated person. 
You immediately withdraw from him, Gojo removing his hands from you to put up defensively. Your hands rush to cover your lips, which are wet from spit. A thousand thoughts run around your head. Holy shit, what the hell was I doing!? Did I really just kiss Gojo? Satoru Gojo!? What was I thinking!!?
And Gojo didn’t say anything, only gauging your reaction to see what goes from here. The light from the lava lamp behind you is sheltered, your silhouette drawn to cover the guy in front of you. 
I need to leave. That’s your final thought, taking an immediate stand and storming out of the closet. Utahime noticed you make a beeline to the door, and the roommate pursues right behind you down the stairs. She moves past drunk dudes to grab your wrist, “Y/n! What’s wrong – are you okay?”
It’s time to lie. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, you know.” You lead her to the broom closet where all the initial guests’ jackets were stored. You grab for yours and put it on, “I think I’m just gonna call an Uber and head back to campus before the snowfall.” 
Her face contorts to an expression of worry. “Are you sure? I’ll come with you; this place bugs any—“
“No, no. You don’t have to worry, Uta.” You place a hand on her shoulder before she can move another step. 
“When you say it like that, I can’t help but worry.”
Your lips twinge to a smile to display faux comfort. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to ruin your fun for me. Besides, I saw some underclassmen waiting to speak with you all night somewhere down here.”
Utahime doesn’t buy it, and you knew she doesn’t. But thankfully, she doesn’t try to fight with you and gives you the okay. She watches you open the door before leaving, “Make sure you call or text me when you get to our dorm!”
It made you laugh; the girl can be such an older sister. “Don’t worry, Shoko’s still there, remember? Cya later, have fun!”
“Bye, be careful!” A final warning to you before the roommate closes the door for you.
You spoke too soon. Now outside, snow was already falling to the ground, probably a few minutes earlier since it wasn’t sticking to the ground yet. The little cold flakes touching the skin of your face were almost remedial, evening out the warmth of your cheeks.
You use this moment to recuperate from what transpired in that house. It was so out of the ordinary and was completely weirding you out, but not in a terrible way. It was more like odd-ish, strange, downright out of the norm. The more you think about it, visiting back to the senses of your hands in his hair, his slender fingers teasing the flesh of your butt, and the pillowy sensation of his lips glued to yours while whispering sweet things…..
….Nope, the cold was not helping at all. There goes the warmness creeping back on your cheeks and ears. Let me hurry and get the fuck out of here, grabbing for your phone and unlocking it to find the Uber app.
“Y/n!”
But before your thumb could press on the application, you instinctively turned around to see the door was open again. And the person who called out to you had your breath come to a complete stop.
Gojo closed the door behind him, coming down the driveway while hurriedly putting on his grey Chesterfield coat. “Fuuuuuck, it got cold quick!”
“G–Gojo!” You stuttered when out by the time he could make it to you. “What’s up? What are you—“
“I saw you weren’t in the bedroom, and Suguru told me you headed downstairs. You could’ve told me you were leaving; that fox with bangs was giving me an earful,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets and then curses. “Fuck, I should’ve checked for my gloves before I left….Anyway, where are you heading off to?” 
You were a little taken aback. “Uhhh, back to the dorms?”
“Great!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks with you down the road. “My car’s over there; let’s hurry before we freeze to death.”
Huh? “Hurry where??”
“Huh? We’re going back to campus, no?”
We!? “Together!?”
“Yeah?”
“Gojo, please!” You promptly removed yourself away from Gojo, standing in front of him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being all nice now?”
He shrugged “Ehhhh? Are friends not supposed to give friends rides back home?”
“No, not us! We aren’t friends; we’re friends to an extent, remember!?”
“Ahhh, stop being a baby. You act as if you’ve never been in my car before.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yeah, but not when I’m alone with you, dummy! “C’mon, it’s gonna get colder with this snow.”
“Okay, just—Stop!” Your hands go up to prevent him from getting any closer to you. He stops, the fallen flakes camouflaging with his hair. “Gojo….you understand what just happened back there, right?”
He doesn’t say anything, only a single nod. 
“So, you know that my mind is going at like a hundred miles per hour right now.”
“….Yeah.”
“Okay….So, just please…I need a minute.” Your face goes to your feet to divert your thoughts elsewhere because you don’t know if you could handle looking at the white-haired man for a mere second.
Gojo looks at you mumble to yourself, avoiding him. He releases a deep sigh, walking towards you and lifting a side of his coat to shield you two from the windows of the house party. “…You’re doing it again.”
His shoes come to your direct line of sight, your heart pounding even more. “…Doing what?”
“The thing where you push people out whenever you feel overwhelmed.” You flinch when his finger grazes the back of your palm. “Don’t do that, not right now. I want you to talk to me.”
What is there to talk about? You could’ve said that to throw him off — be avoidant to this whole conversation. But it’s futile after he brings your chin up to face him. 
“Did I make you uncomfortable back there?”
“….No.” 
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I….I don’t know.” Honestly, you did not know. Your mind had too much to go through; so many memories and phrases from moments ago hit you all at once. You’re fighting the urge to tremble — not from the cold, but from overstimulation of brain power and senses.
His eyes are still fixed on you, noting you chewing on your lip. “Come with me.” The sudden revelation quirked your eyebrows up. “Whatever’s going on with you is obviously because of me. So, I’d feel like a dick if I just let you leave because of me. Plus, there’s no way you’re getting an Uber from here. Shit is like $20, I checked.”
“Gojo, I—“ he silences you with a kiss on your forehead. The feel of his lips on your skin again almost made you shut down.
“Sorry,” he whispered while placing his forehead on yours. You never really noticed how tall he was until he did that, your heart skipping again. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
Picture it: you are out in the cold with Gojo, snow falling down silently onto your figures, him bringing his coat up to shield you from the world. If you were naive enough, you’d mistake this as a scene from a fairy tale. And how he was looking at you, too; his sunglasses were back on, but you could make out the blue orbs that lingered on yours. It’s as if he didn’t want to look at anything else. Just you and only you. 
You don’t know where the hell this side of confidence came from, but you lifted your hands to cup his cheeks and bring him in for another kiss. Cold lips instantaneously warm up at each other’s contact, Gojo leaning into your touch more. 
Snow continues to fall and stick, and the music from the house can still be heard from the outside. Yet it doesn’t bother you because it all drowns out in this moment you feel with him. Whatever these feelings you are experiencing are something new — scary, but new. And for some reason, it felt right to have them for him.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
A sheet of white cascades over the university grasses, students’ cars topped with sprinkles of snowflakes, and the lampposts emit a glow that fits the dark, cloudy weather. 
You were back on campus but not in your dorm where you told Utahime you’d be. You did text her when you arrived, so she doesn’t have to worry too much for you. In turn, she texted back that something had come up and is going to another event with Haibara and some other friends. She said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning; it sounds like she’s having a good time. 
The same thing goes for Geto, only that the raven-haired boy called Gojo to say he’d be home in the morning because he was getting “private” with someone he met at the party. “Will be back in the morning. Don’t cause a fire alarm like last time, you dork." 
Haibara is supposedly with your roommate, meaning he won’t be back until the morning, either. The only person left to account for would be Nanami, who is currently away for the weekend because he had to visit home to grab last-minute things from break. 
That leaves only you inside their apartment – in Gojo’s room on top of his bed with your top and bra down on the carpeted floor, along with Gojo’s sweatshirt and jeans. His bed is like any other twin bed for college dorms, a little impossible to move around for two people and limited positions. Nonetheless, to start things off slow, you lie comfortably on his bed with your head to his pillow as he crawls above you and works from above.
Gojo is straddled on top of you, kissing your lips and sucking on your tongue, evoking the prettiest wails he’s ever heard. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders while his are busy roaming your body.
The kiss is broken when you gasp at the contact of his pinkie grazing a nipple on your breast. “Ahhnn, Satoru, don’t touch…Mmmph!”
“Hmmm, what, gorgeous?” He places his lips from your chin down to your neck, sucking on your skin and leaving ticklish nibbles. “Don’t touch what?”
“M–My ni—Ohhoo!” He gives the hardened bud a tweeze, and your cry results from the sudden action. 
He chuckles, “So cute.” Kisses travel down from your collarbone, your breasts, and finally, your other unattended nipple. A whimper leaves your lips at the wet sensation of his tongue swirling around the sensitive nob, and you shriek when he takes it into his mouth. The frequent grazes of his teeth and the tongue pushing your nipple to the roof of his mouth — it all felt surreal.
Yet, it wasn’t as surreal as the next thing he was about to do. Sucking on your tit was the perfect distraction for him to sneak a hand down into your pantyhose, sinking it to the lower regions of your underwear. You gasp at the feeling of a digit pressing on the wet spot of your underwear.
“W–Mmmph…’toru, wait…” you pat him on his shoulder to get his attention, yet he doesn’t lift from your breast yet. “Don’t—Stop, it’s embarrassing—Khhmm!“ Shivers shoot up your spine after Gojo uses his middle and forefinger to go in between your panty-covered folds. Your wetness sticks onto him the more he rubs. 
Gojo lets go of your nipple with one last suck, the cool air chilling the wet bud. “Awww, is my lil’ princess shy?” You could only answer in pants and puffs, his blue eyes surveying your entire body laid out for him. “Heh, shit, you look so good...Hmm? Hey, you got a tear down here.”
“Huh?” You follow his eyes down to your tights, bringing your attention to a worn-down incision where Gojo’s hand is between the material and your underwear. It must’ve been from when I was grinding on him earlier today…
The snow-haired boy removes his hand from inside your tights and uses both to make the rip bigger. Your eyes shot wide, “Wha—What are you doing?”
“Making it easier to see your pussy.” He continues to tear a hole big enough for the damp spot of your pussy to be prevalent. 
Your face dials up in warmth at the vulgar word. “You could’ve just taken them off, you idiot…”
“Pssh, that’s no fun. Besides,” Gojo uses a thumb to remove the panty barrier to reveal what he’s wanted to see the moment you crawled up on his bed. Your bare cunt, wet substance glistening the pretty folds of your labia. He bites his lip. “I’ve been dying to see this pretty thing you’ve been hiding from me.”
Your hands rush to cover up your vagina, “D-Don’t say such embarrassing things, Gojo!”
“Hey, hey, let me see it,” his hands are used to pull yours aside, your slit throbbing from his gaze without your control. “And what did I say about calling me by my last name?”
It was a force of habit, dummy. “...Just be gentle, okay, Satoru?”
He beams a smile at you, the dimples on his cheek prevalent with his childish manner. “I will, princess! Now, what’s goin’ on here…” 
He ditches his head down to your chasm, giving the inviting genitalia a slow lick up to your clitoris. You bucked your hips in shock, jerking at the sudden intrusion of his tongue situating between your slit. He uses his hands to keep your legs still while he sucks and teases your vagina.
You grab for his hair, “—Khhaa!! Ohhh, ohhfuckkk, Satoru, no—Ohhh!!” Your eyes screw shut, mouth open to let your cries fly out. 
It only pushes Gojo to keep going, his tongue ravaging your folds as if he’s going to lick you clean. And when he sucks on clit? Holy fuck, you could’ve sworn your soul left your body right there and then.
“Satoruuu!! Ohhhshit, ohhhh…Mmmph,” the noises that come from the commotion below of Gojo’s tongue lapping and slurping your essence were so pornographic to the ears as if they’d melt on the spot. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum, I think I’m gonna…Nnmmph!”
Gojo hears you; that’s why he removes his mouth from your clit before you can experience your orgasm. You throw an unsatisfied whine at him, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face. “Sorry, cutie. But I wanna have a feel for you first.” He straightens his posture and spreads your legs for him. You follow his hands that land at the hem of his boxer briefs, where a tent protrudes until his erection is sprung out with one fell swoop.
The erect limb you gawked at was definitely something you weren’t mentally prepared enough to see. Your eyes take in every single detail you can: from his pink tip, where precum exudes from the urethra down to the underside of his cock, to the long body curved slightly to the left. A whole living a breathing dick — and it’s Gojo’s dick, of all things. It was oddly pretty, you had to admit. 
“Ya ready?” You snap back to reality when Gojo calls out to you as he scoots forward to you after putting the condom on, the cockhead aligning with your labia. You hold your breath at the proximity, “Listen to me, Y/n. Since this is your first time, I need you to take deep breaths and try to relax for me. Think you can do that for me?” You sigh through your nostrils, but you nod. “Heh, good. Now stay still, and let me know if it hurts, okay, princess?”
He lightly pushes his glans to your labia, swirling it around to warm you up before kissing the entrance of your vagina. He begins to propel into you, and you begin to brace yourself for the pain that accompanies his insertion. You grab the pillowcase, your teeth clinging to your bottom lip as tears well up. But you remind yourself to breathe, drawing out as much of an exhale for Gojo to shove the tip in.
And when it does get in, you release the loudest gasp you’ve ever expressed that night! Your body froze stiffly as Gojo plunged more of his length into you; the curve scraping your side caused such an exhilarating spike in your nerves that your walls immediately began clenching around him. 
Oh fuck, It’s coming, I’m gon— “Ahhhh!”
And just like that, your orgasm that was avoided before came back in seconds., the walls of your slit fluttering on Gojo’s cock like crazy, electric shocks climbing up to your head and pulling you in for a haze.
The sudden contraction of you makes Gojo hiss, “—Fuuuck, you’re gripping me like crazy…! Damn, you feel so fucking good…” He continues to push himself onto you until the base rises your southern lips and grinds his pelvis, which only fuels your screams even more with the overstimulation. “—Khhh! D-Damn…did you cum, baby?”
You can’t even form a proper sentence, your lower half feeling too full to speak, and your figure trembling from the crescendo. 
Your expression has Gojo bend down to laugh. “Never had that happened before. Heh, glad I could make you cum for the first time. Congrats, pretty…” Pillowy lips claim yours again, taking your whines and whimpers as he roughly grinds his hips to you.
Gojo begins moving his hips at a slow pace, letting you adjust to his size and shape. However, the peak has made your entire lower body dial-up in sensitivity, your back arching to him every time your clit is barely touched. Tears have long fallen since he successfully entered inside you.
Jesus, the fucking curve of his shaft was so fucking dangerous! Not only was the feeling of his veins coming to and fro with your inner walls had you twitching, but the way the tip of his cock was scratching and poking every spot that had you humming was so unfair. Especially now, when he changes the rhythm to a faster cadence, you’re bound to come again! 
“Ohooo, ahahhh, Sa-‘toru…! Ughhh, Jesus, it feels so….Hooohhh!!” Your words slurred in between kisses, almost choking on your tongue with the slap of his balls hitting your taint. 
“Yeah, baby…—Ohhh, shit, shit, shiiiit…!” You feel so good to Gojo; he can’t help but slam onto you with all his might. Your nails were causing eclipses on the skin of his shoulders. He didn’t mind; he knew it was because you were feeling good, too. “Hnngh…How’re you feelin’, Y/n? Hmm?”
“—Eeshh!! I–I…don’t know…” Your brain was too mushy to think adequately, too distracted by what was between your legs.
But Gojo wasn’t buying that mess. “Ohoho, I think you do know, sweetie.” The tall silver-haired boy creeps a hand down to your clit to give it a pinch. You scream, your legs wrapping around his hips involuntarily. “How’re you feeling?”
“—Fuuuhucck!! It feels good,” There, you finally said it. “It feels soo good…Hic–pleaseeee, make me feel good, ‘toruuuu!!”
He puts his forehead to yours before kissing it. “God, you’re so fucking, cute…” 
Gojo increases his tempo to an erratic fashion, your howls bouncing off the walls with every plunge of his dick inside you. Your gummy walls clamp onto him while his fingers swipe around your clitoris, and more tears strike down your wet cheeks. 
The familiar tingling sensation from before begins to climb up. Oh, God, it’s happening again. “Ahhooo—OhmyfuckingGooood!! I’m gonna cum again, I’m gonna cummm…! Aiiishh, ahhhhh!!”
And there it goes, your second crescendo hitting you like a wall. Your walls twitch around Gojo’s length again, prompting the man above you to impetuously thrust in a harsh motion, evoking more choked sobs from your puffy lips. And when he dwells into a finish of his own, you can feel his limb pulsate along with your contractions withering away.
The two of you heave and pant close to each other before Gojo slumps his body on your nude figure, allowing him to rest while he pumps his load into your stimulated cunt. The sheets beneath you stick to your sweaty skin, the air of Gojo’s huffs tickling your neck. 
When you feel your body subsided from the excitement, you two turn to each other. Noses touching each other, eyes locked into each other’s stares. 
“….So,” he’s the first to speak in a whisper. “…What does this make us?”
His eyes were so alluring to look at, like looking at the most beautiful azure gems in your adjacency. “…I’ll punch you if you say I’m your girlfriend.”
That has him chuckling in shaky breathes. “Fair enough, but it’d be dumb if we didn't talk after this.”
A curt nod in agreement, “…Is there a thing called frenemies-with-benefits?”
“Pfft, I don’t know, but why not? I wouldn’t mind.” Gojo then decides to get up and finally remove himself from you, slowly taking out his cock with the condom. The bed creaks when he leaves to remove the plastic and wrap it to discard it. “You okay?”
You ponder for a few seconds before coming to an honest answer. “I think so…My pantyhose isn’t fine, though, you fiend.” 
He flashes another smile at you, his dimples taking your heart away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. I’ll get you another pair.”
“You better.” 
BZZZT!! BZZZT!! BZZZT!!
Before you could get off the bed, a vibration came from Gojo’s dresser top. It was his phone, the caller ID reading as “punk-boy bangy wannabe” 
You blink and give the phone to Gojo after he puts his sweatshirt back on. With raised brows, he says, “It’s Suguru?” His thumb presses the green button before bringing the device to his ear while he puts his limp dick back in his boxers. “Yo. Wassup?”
“Okay, good, you picked up. I’m getting in the elevator right now to grab something from the room real quick. Open the door for me, will ya?”
The white-haired roommate couldn’t express his shock in time because Geto ended the call before he could have the chance. He turns to you slowly, and you can tell whatever he’s going to say isn’t good based on that dumb look on his face. “Suguru's coming up…now.”
Panic spiked up as it rightfully should. You were still braless and topless, for Christ’s sake! And wearing torn tights!? Something you did not want Geto to see in the likes of his and Gojo’s room. “W–What should I do?!”
Gojp quickly scans the room for a plan, immediately pointing to a door to his right. “Hide in my closet!” He hurries to grab the door open. “Quick, grab your clothes and get in here!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…!” You grab for everything in your direct line of sight, making a straight beeline to the closet when you’ve got everything. “Don’t forget my shoes at the front; just quickly hide them somewhere!”
“Okay, okay—“
“I’m serious, Gojo! Do not do anything stupid!”
“I heard you, jeez.” He watches you move around the closet, moving his shoes to one side while trying to hide behind one of his suits. Jesus, you looked real cute even when you were scared. “…Hey.”
You peer up at him, moving his blazer so he could see your complete face. “What?”
“Be careful not to leave your panties here ‘cause I might not give them back.”
The last thing Gojo saw within that second was one of his dress shoes thrown dead at his face. His hands come to his stinging nose and cheek, exclaiming at the pain with a loud groan. “Fucking pervert, quit playing dumb games and get my shoes!”
I take it fucking back. He slams the closet door closed. “So uncute…”
Tumblr media
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
6K notes · View notes
inuyashaluver · 3 months
Note
airport havoc with reader and leah’s 3 kids😩
mumma williamson - leah williamson
leah williamson x reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
description: in which you and your wife handle your children at an airport, a roller coaster for everyone involved
warnings: leah never did her acl, looonnngg, really don’t know how to feel about this one
a/n: thank you for the request lovely, this was super fun ❤️ also - i unintentionally wrote this at the airport lmao
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
you and your wife, leah have been together for just over 10 years, it seems unbelievable but you and leah have been basically in love with each other all your lives, taking years of mutual pining and a gentle push of your teammates.
you’d met leah in the arsenal youth teams, becoming quick best friends through both of your competitive natures. “i’m gonna win” little leah says with a toothy grin, giving you a light shove. “not if i win first!” you say cheekily. and that describes your entire relationship, competitive, genuine, loving and comforting.
when you finally started dating at 16, you grew closer and closer over the years, both physically and emotionally. you two just got each other, everyone around you telling you that you were soulmates and you couldn’t help but agree.
if there was one thing to know about your wife, it was that she is incredibly convincing. this girl could have you doing anything she wanted and you would because you love her so much. she was exactly the same, if you wanted something, she would make it happen, no if’s, and’s, or but’s.
so when you both hit 22, leah took you to her house for christmas, where she brought her cousin’s baby over with a pleading expression. “baby, look” she pouts, cradling the baby’s head to her chin as she gently bounced up and down. you couldn’t help but grin longingly.
you had to admit, everytime leah held a baby, your ovaries would explode, you knew she’d be an amazing mother and you were willing to give her that.
so, you put your career on hold to have your first child, amanda, named after her mother but called mandy for short. you and leah were ecstatic to have a little girl, both of you crying when you were told the gender.
after you had baby mandy, you’d taken months off before making your return, working extremely hard and honestly playing better than you ever have. leah was incredibly proud of you, telling you everyday. you were both so content with your little family, until it flipped completely.
during a game, you’d manage to get a goal which saved the match for arsenal vs chelsea at the emirates.
when it happened, leah bolted over to you, hoisting you up in a tight embrace. “look at you, mummy williamson” she winks, giving your cheek an affectionate kiss as you tried to push her off out of embarrassment.
“stop it, mumma williamson” throwing her a half assed wink, she laughs and bumps her hip with yours, running back to her position for the last two minutes of the match. by the time you’d done your lap of signatures and photos, you and leah make way to the family and friends section, taking baby mandy from leah’s mum and taking her around the field.
she was a year old at this point, your teammates immediately running over to her and giving her all their love.
you held mandy on your hip, she’d fallen asleep. you lightly chat with some of the girls while rocking your baby gently as she sleeps against your shoulder.
leah stood behind you and took in the scene, her wife and her daughter, ‘williamson’ shining brightly on their backs. she walks up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, gently kissing your neck and smirking when your breath hitches.
“lee” you breathe out, she tightens her grip, “hm?” she places a kiss just below your ear and you lean into her. you let out a shaky sigh when she continues to press soft kisses against the right sight of your neck. “what? i can’t kiss my beautiful wife?” she says smugly, spinning you around gently so she could face you.
“i know what you’re doing” you sing out, leah looks at you with fake confusion. “what? nah, baby, i’m not doing anything” she moves her hand to lightly tug at the bottom of your jersey and you squint your eyes at her. her finger dips under your shirt to lightly graze the skin of your waist and you grab her hand before she continues. you were both literally standing in the middle of the pitch.
when leah saw how much of an amazing mother you were, her heart exploded. she’d known you’d be an amazing one but the fact that you carried her child and gave her the privilege of becoming a mother herself, how could she not want another?
that night, when you arrive home, leah pushes you on the couch as she carried a sleeping baby mandy in her arms. “hey!” you whisper shout and she just grins at you, winking to wordlessly tell you to wait there for her. once she put the baby in her bed, she comes out with the baby monitor in hand, placing it on the coffee table before making you lie flat on the couch so she could lie on top of you.
“hi, mumma” she says cheekily, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your lips as she hovered over you. “hello” you mumble against her lips in between her kisses. she pulls away and looks at you suggestively, “you know, i’ve been thinking..” she starts, “oh, that’s not good” you grin, she rolls her eyes amusingly as she pinches your hip. “shut up, anyway, you know, you’re such an amazing mum, baby” she says adoringly, her eyes glistening as she speaks.
you place a gentle hand on her cheek, “you’re an amazing mum too, lovey” you grin softly, she leans forward to kiss your lips. it’s starts off slow and calculated, until she feels your hand dip under her shirt and graze your nails on her skin and a switch flips.
a needy make out session progressing quickly, she pulls away from you breathlessly and looks down at you with blown out pupils. “i want to run an idea past you if you’re comfortable” she breathes out, getting off you to sit up and tapping her lap for you to join her which you happily do.
you knew where she was going and you were in the same mindset. you wanted another baby. she nervously plays with the hem of your shirt, unable to look into your eyes because she was so nervous. you smile, placing a hand under her chin and directi her eyes to yours. “you want another baby” you say simply, affection laced in your words.
leah looked at you with wide eyes and an unmistakable grin. “only if you want to” she replies, grabbing your hands and squeezing them gently. you nod and smile, leaning forward to peck her lips, then her cheeks, her forehead and her nose. she looks up at you, completely love sick. you lean forward to whisper in her ear, “put another baby in me, williamson” and that’s all it took for her to lift you up and run to the bedroom. sure, leah couldn’t put a baby in you like this, but the both of you weren’t complaining.
so that’s how baby catherine, cat for short, came along. you begged leah to name the girl after her middle name because you found it so cute and she begrudgingly agreed, willing to let you name the baby anything you wanted as you were carrying her child. at this point, mandy was two and a half while baby catherine was just a year old.
one day after training, you’d gone to the shops to quickly get some groceries and came back to leah sprawled out on the floor with your two daughters, their little heads propped up on your wife’s arms, completely engrossed on the screen. walking closer to the sweet scene in front of you, you realise leah had put on a video of your highlights
“mummy’s so cool isn’t she?” leah says proudly, mandy nodding and watching intently, cat reaching her arm out in a grabbing motion when there was a close up of you after your chelsea goal which prompted her birth but you would never tell her that.
“mumma’s cooler i think” you say suddenly and all three of them jolt, snapping their heads towards you. leah looked at you with so much love in her eyes, you nearly collapsed. the entire rest of the night, you couldn’t keep your hands off leah and she just knew what you wanted because she wanted the same thing.
when the two girls were tucked in by you and leah, after they were sound asleep, you drag leah to the couch, pushing her onto it and immediately straddling her. “oh, hello” she giggles, placing her hands on your thighs. “i need to ask you something” you say nervously, feeling so vulnerable in this moment for no reason.
“you want another baby, don’t you?” leah says simply, a deja vu moment for both of you.
you instantly nod, “only if you want to” you whisper and she kisses you sweetly. “i’d have 50 babies with you if i could but i care about this and you” she pokes your stomach cheekily and you giggle with her at her response. and so, baby olivia was born, liv for short.
you’d taken some time off football to be a mum, spending your time with your kids until they were old enough to go to preschool/school. you’d made your comeback during the euros, a euphoric experience being in your national team that your wife captained while your three kids sat with your families watching.
and now in present time, it was the 2023 world cup. your wife was named captain and both of you get called up. it was a no brainer that you would bring your kids along for the world cup, mandy was now 4, cat was 3 and liv was 1. you’d been to the airport with your kids before but not like this, you were flying internationally, with your teammates, for over 16 hours.
you had expressed to leah how nervous you were about it but she constantly reassured you that everything would be fine. crazily enough, your children were extremely well behaved, the girls absolutely loved having them around. many of them teased you that all three of them were just complete carbon copies of you and leah mixed together.
and so, you, leah and your three daughters arrived at the airport with excited grins, you and leah were in your training kits while your daughters all wore their ‘williamson’ jerseys. you held liv along with dragging two suitcases in your other hand while leah held mandy’s hand, mandy holding cat’s, leah held all your documents in her other hand while you all walked through the airport. thankfully, england had gotten a private plane for your arrivals, as there was so many of you coming along for the trip.
you’d done all the check ins, dropped off your luggage and that left the five of you to chill and wait until boarding. your kids throughout check in and security were perfect little angels, you and leah constantly giving each other surprised and proud grins. you were so impressed by your kids behaviour until they saw their aunties at the airport, all of them switching completely.
each and every teammate of yours was always an auntie, so when your kids are surrounded with almost all of them, they go insane. as soon as mandy sees her favourite auntie, georgia, she sprints away from the both of you and jumps into her awaiting arms.
“my little mandy!” georgia exclaims, hugging the girl tightly, she laughs gleefully when georgia litters kisses on her cheeks. “careful, amanda” leah scolds when the small girl ripped her hand from her own. georgia waves leah off and leah can’t help but send her a half-hearted scowl.
cat however also had a favourite auntie, the small girl sprinting over to auntie lucy through the influence of her big sister. “lu-lu” cat squeals, her little feet bounding over to the brunette.
lucy gives the small girl a bright grin and an affectionate kiss to the cheek before gently throwing her in the air and catching her, spinning the girl around as they both giggle with each other.
“oh my god” leah breathes out terrified, scared lucy would drop her. you wrap your arm around her bicep, she looks down at you with uneasy eyes but washes away at your comforting grin.
“hello, kitty cat!” lucy coos, taking her to watch the big window where the planes were taking off and landing.
you tug her over towards some open seats, sitting down and looking up at her with a bright smile. “come on, captain” you tap the seat next to you encouragingly. liv snuggles into you further, her hand gripping your jacket tightly as she buries her face into your neck.
leah looks at you with a little pout, she felt a little betrayed that none of her girls wanted to stay with her, instead running off around the section in the airport where the lionesses were situated.
well, liv did stay, but the girl was passed out against your shoulder, cuddling into you completely. “all our baby girls are gone, we’re empty nesters” she huffs, you just shake your head at her gently.
leah lets out a defeated sigh but smiles at you and liv, taking out her phone and snapping a quick picture before sitting next to you, placing a warm hand on your thigh while your head rests on her shoulder.
“oh, leah baby,” you coo amusingly, “we’re not empty nesters, my love, they’re just excited” you hold onto the arm that was holding your thigh.
“they don’t want us anymore” she pouts, you take your head off her shoulder and pull her down to kiss you softly, she can’t help but smile into it while you run your nails over her arm.
“they do, baby, don’t look into it too much” you part from her with a kiss to her cheek. you look into her eyes to reassure her and it seems to do the trick, she nods and smiles at you, quickly kissing your lips appreciatively. “yeah, you're right, darling” she breathes out and trails her eyes over your face.
“it’s alright, lee, i’ll just annoy you” you say cheekily and she kisses the top of your head, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “you never annoy me, my girl” she smiles, resting her head on top of yours as she watches her daughters interact with your teammates.
contempt, she closes her eyes for just a second until she feels a little body clawing itself into her lap, opening her eyes to see mandy looking at her with wide and excited eyes. “hi, mumma” she grins happily and leah smiles at her affectionately, “hi, baby girl, you having fun?” leah questions, mandy nods her head instantly. mandy was in a stage where she asks questions every two seconds, leah was in for a ride.
you sit beside them and watch the interaction while liv was still passed out on your shoulder.
“why are we here?” mandy cocks her head to the side and leah couldn’t help but grin, “mummy and I are playing football” leah remarks, the small girl grabs her hand and begins to play with her fingers. “but, mummy said you can’t play football at the airport” she cocks her head to the side and stared up at leah confused.
leah lets out a little laugh, moving her hand up to pinch her cheek gently. “mummy’s right, darling, but i meant we’re playing football in another place” leah speaks full of affection, mandy nods and turns her head to smile at you,
“hi, mummy” mandy offers you a toothy grin and you send her one right back, “hi, princess” you lift your hand up to give her a gentle pinch on her cheek. mandy suddenly snaps her head towards leah again and leah’s eyes slightly widen, “where are we going?” the girl queries, “australia” leah replies with another soft smile.
“that’s where auntie caity and steffy are from!” mandy remarks with a bright grin, leah nods along with her, “that’s right, smart girl!” she praises, placing her hand on her head and lightly ruffling her hair.
mandy hates that, offering leah the signature williamson glare and leah just laughs loudly, looking at you with an amused grin, you laugh along with them. suddenly, little cat runs over with a bright grin, climbing on top of the seat and sitting on one of leah’s legs and one of your legs. “hello, catty” you say brightly, the girl smiles at you, “mummy! i saw the plane!” she says completely astonished, you and leah both offer her shocked expressions, “did you really?” the small girl nods enthusiastically and you and leah have expressions full of love evident on your faces, a couple of your teammates watching your family interact with one another with elated grins.
liv who was asleep until now slowly begins to stir, taking her face out of your neck and looking completely disheveled. you and leah let out a little giggle at your daughter’s appearance, she offers you a tired smile before blinking slowly and taking in her surroundings.
“hello, baby” leah coos, liv smiles gently and rests her head on your chin, leah pouts at the sight, her heart soaring out of her chest. “she’s so cute” leah boasts, you nod your head in agreement and hug the little girl closer to your chest.
“what about us?” cat exclaims and you both look over to see two unimpressed glares staring at the both of you, the two of you immediately fuss over them. “look at our cute and pretty girls, huh, mummy, aren’t they the best?” leah asserted, nodding over in your direction where you nodded instantly.
“oh definitely, mumma, prettiest and cutest girls alive” you affirm, both you and leah nodding enthusiastically and it seemed to work on your daughters, both of them sporting shy grins. liv still tight in your embrace cuddles into you further, babbling random words as she stares at her sisters.
you were growing slightly uncomfortable, the small girl had been sitting in your arms for so long, they were growing tired. you try to stretch and leah notices your discomfort, moving immediately to grab the small girl, holding her in her arms and you let out a sigh of relief, smiling at leah appreciatively.
liv was happy to move as well, giving leah a sweet kiss on the cheek which had tears brimming in your eyes. you can’t help but look at them full of love, leah instantly growing shy under your gaze. “stop it” she mumbles and grows pink at the sound of your affectionate giggle.
leah has always slightly freaked out when she sees you looking at her completely love sick, often feeling like it was a dream that her dream girl was looking at her full of love.
the two girls on your’s and leah’s laps brighten at your now vacant body, both of them trying to get over to you as quick as they could. you had each girl on a thigh each, letting out a little laugh at leah’s frustrated face, she wanted you to rest a little before the flight and she just knew you wouldn’t be getting that till much later. “girls, no, let’s leave mummy to rest, please” leah commented, trying to coax your daughters to get off you but they wouldn’t budge.
“no!” cat exclaims, grabbing your arm tightly and shaking her head at leah, mandy does the same thing, grabbing your other arm and holding it as tight as she could, they were just like their mother, stubborn, you thought. “yes, come on, let mummy relax, she’s very tired” leah says sternly, patting the chair next to her for them to sit in.
you open your mouth to assure leah it was okay but before you could, you hear a whimper from your lap, looking down to see cat’s eyes swelling with tears. both your and leah’s eyes widen, at seeing her sister cry, mandy begins to cry. “mummy, i’m sorry” cat wails, cuddling into you and you instantly hug the girl back, mandy follows in suit and holds onto you tightly.
“why are you sorry, lovey?” you coo, running your hands over both of their backs in comforting circles. “we are making you tired” mandy cries, nuzzling her head into your chest. you look at leah beside you with wide eyes, faced with your wife and your youngest looking at you with shocked and confused expressions. “baby, i-” leah tries to respond but she’s just so shocked, she didn’t think her words would spur a reaction like that.
“no no, my girls, it’s okay, you’re not making mummy tired” you reassure but the two girls continue to cry, leah dips her head to make eye contact with the two of them but they refuse to look at her. leah pouts at you, she made her babies cry. you move back from the two of them and they face you with matching, tearful expressions, their pouts going unmissed. “aw, girls don’t cry, it’s okay” you smile softly, wiping both of their tears away with the pads of your thumbs.
“babies” leah calls out, all three of you look up and leah mutters up all her strength to bite back a smile. “did mumma make you sad?” leah questions, placing liv on one of her thighs and holding her hands out to them, mandy grabs one and shuffles closer to leah. the two of them nod, pouting up at their mum. “oh, my loves, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to make you sad, i just want mummy to feel good for the flight” leah says earnestly, placing a small kiss on mandy’s head and holding cat’s little hand in the other.
“it’s okay, mumma” cat says, lifting leah’s hand up and placing a little kiss on the back of it, you and leah wear identical grins. mandy nods at her sister’s words, wrapping her arms around leah’s neck and hugging her tightly. leah looks at you with the biggest smile, you giggle at the little interaction. cat moves to hug you, holding onto you tightly and pressing her cheek up against your own, smiling at leah. leah could’ve crumbled at the sight before her, knowing you felt the same with her.
after the moment of solidarity with one another, you hear a bright laugh coming from leah’s right thigh, looking over and seeing liv with a bright smile at seeing you all hug. leah brings her over to the middle of you and you all have a little group hug, hearing multiple ‘aw so cute’’s coming from your teammates.
when you pull away from the hug, mandy immediately bombards you with questions, making both you and leah laugh. the team had gotten called to board the plane and the girls all perk up, excited to embark on the journey to australia. leah takes over with liv, the girl extremely cuddly and wanting to go back to sleep, seeming as though the arms of her mums lulls her into dreamland.
on the other hand, you’re being dragged by two sets of hands, mandy and cat’s. “mummy, quickly” mandy huffs, sending you a little scowl when you giggle at her attitude. “sorry, baby, mummy will hurry” you tease, leah places a hand on the small of your back and leads you all to your seats.
“these two will be handfuls, baby, let me take care of them and you take this one” leah gently passes liv over to you, you smile and pucker your lips up at leah, which she quickly leans down to place a quick kiss on your lips.
she pulls away slightly, pecking them numerous times until she feel small hands on her legs, dragging her to the seat directly next to you. “do you see these little monsters you made” leah says jokingly, you stick your tongue out at her and shrug your shoulders. “i may have carried them, but they’re all you, williamson” you smirk. leah tutts, but smiles at you, “yeah, yeah, williamson, whatever, look at how stubborn they are, that’s all you”. leah teases and you roll your eyes at her jokingly, both of you knew that your daughters were clones of the both of you.
she takes mandy and cat and sits them in their seats, immediately putting on movies for both of them to watch, both of them entertained wholeheartedly. leah smiles at both of them, “can i sit with mummy or do you need me?” they both look at her with cheesy grins, “go kiss mummy” mandy teases, leah’s eyes widen with amusement, laughing and ruffling the girls hair and again gaining an icy scowl.
leah moves away to where you were, liv sleeping soundly on your lap while you sit and look up at her with a smile. “hello, mumma williamson” you say adoringly, your wife leaning down to place a kiss on your lips before sitting next to you. “hello, mummy williamson” she replies cheekily, placing another peck on your lips before settling in her seat beside you.
“they’re awfully quiet” you whisper in your wife’s ear, she nods in agreement, both of you look over to see your two daughters sleeping, heads resting on each other while completely out cold. you and leah look at each other sweetly, “we made them” leah pouts, you nod with a matching one, “we made them” you mirror, both of you have eyes full of pride and adoration.
the rest of the flight, the girls were mostly asleep, waking up to ask you to take them to the bathroom or for a little snack or meal before dozing off completely. “i think we should go on planes more often, look how perfect” you point at your sleeping daughters, leah smiles at you sleepily, clearly wanting to join. “let’s sleep” leah kisses your forehead and you rest your head on her shoulder, the five of you asleep and fully contempt.
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
Tumblr media
liked by stanwaygeorgia and 44,232 others
leahwilliamsonn: all my pretty babies
view all comments
yourname: leah williamson is a milf
↳ leahwilliamsonn: (y/n) williamson is a milf
stanwaygeorgia: my little monster
luzybronze: kitty cat
mbrighty04: still shocked at how you made such perfect children, considering both of you are fucking handfuls
↳ leahwilliamsonn: just because you’re second captain doesn’t mean you can put us down like that
↳ yourname: yeah! tell her, baby!
↳ mbrighty04: okay captain, you’re still a handful
↳ yourname: i won’t deny that
↳ leahwilliamsonn: baby!
961 notes · View notes
xinxiaogato · 3 months
Text
— love at first thrust
Tumblr media
summary. as an ambassador from mondstadt, your goal was to persuade the duke of fontaine’s underwater fortress (who reportedly had a herculean physique and an absolute bakery) to agree with your plan on improving international relations. the last thing you anticipated was for him to agree to you getting his rocks off.
love interest. fem!reader x wriothesley.
warnings. unedited, 18+ content (mdni), nsfw, cursing, masturbation, voyuerism, size difference kink, cunnilingus, fingering, name calling (slut), slight orgasm denial, skin biting, almost a handjob, angst (somehow) and comfort, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy, porn w plot, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, fondling, rough sex, impregnation, bdsm (handcuffs), soft dom!wrio.
word count. 5,309.
note. my first time dabbling in smut… to whoever is reading this that somehow knows me irl, pls turn straight around ! you are referred to as “reader” by the way.
Tumblr media
romance schmomance. how did anyone expect wriothesley to allocate time in his schedule for a lover while properly running the fortress of meropide? his grace was perfectly content with teasing his two tsundere subordinates, who refused to face their feelings for each other. besides, love appeared too complicated of a matter, as evidenced by the prisoners he overheard lamenting on a day-to-day basis about their marital affairs and unsuccessful endeavors in flirting.
but sigewinne thought otherwise, pestering him recommending that he seek a partner because not only would it fulfill his social needs but also satisfy his sexual urges (he scrunched up his nose every time she made that point). frankly, all the duke needed was his right hand, some lotion, and a thirty-minute break of privacy.
…so what was a pair of eyes doing from the staircase to his office, staring incredulously at him fucking his cock into his curled fist during the thirty-minute break of privacy?
keyword: privacy, meaning no one was supposed to be in his office during this time!
a few minutes earlier…
“ah, ms. reader, right this way!”
an eager guard ushered you to an imposing set of metal doors to which your house back in mondstadt paled in comparison. as the guard, who appeared to be a rookie, fumbled with the keys to the administrator’s office, you turned your attention to the rest of the surroundings that seamlessly blended together due to the lack of decor. rusting pipes ran from the bottom up in austere grandeur, and warm lights were scattered across the stronghold, illuminating the faces of the few dozen or so prisoners wandering around the open space. 
although the conditions weren’t all sunshine and rainbows (literally, since the fortress is hundreds of feet under the surface), serving time in the fortress of meropide was bearable enough to the point that some convicts continued living there even after their sentences were up. this was the piece of information that piqued your interest during extensive research into the nation of justice, as access to rehabilitative programs while incarcerated had reduced the crime rate there.
thus, there you stood, prepared to present the ultimate strategy for promoting bilateral relations to the administrator of fontaine’s correctional institution. in exchange for advice from monsieur wriothesley on how to reform mondstadt’s prison system, the two neighboring countries could collaborate on an event similar to that of the “neighboring nations congenial poetry gala” between mondstadt and liyue.
it made sense since both fontaine and mondstadt were renowned for their romanticism, and the only other thing you could offer from your hometown besides poetry and artistry was… wine, which you knew wouldn’t fly. no government wanted more drunkards bumbling down their streets than they already had.
finally, the guard pushed the doors open (not without almost popping a vein) and gestured for you to enter monsieur wriothesley’s office, and once you did, you averted your gaze to the spiraling set of stairs.
however, prior to making your presence known, strange… grunting noises from the upper floor sent a shiver down your spine and planted you firmly to the ground. rapidly, your mind swirled with a million possibilities of what the source could be. although the duke was allegedly benign, he was still a warden through and through. was he personally punishing someone for their misconduct?
it frankly sounded quite painful, and you were getting worried that you came in at a bad time. after all, you did arrive an hour earlier than scheduled.
…one peek couldn’t hurt, right?
then you’ll be able to determine whether or not he needed a minute.
curiosity killed the cat, and that cat was you. because after gingerly ascending the staircase and stopping to be able to peek just above the metal floor, you chanced upon a scene that not even your wildest dreams could conjure.
the black-haired duke’s coat was popped open, with the hem of his dress shirt stuffed between his lips to muffle groan after groan that flowed past them. for several long seconds, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scars running down his neck and heaving pectorals, gleaming in a slight sheen of sweat.
and when you did manage to tear your eyes away, they instantly flitted past his abdomen (which needed its own place in a museum) to the sight of wriothesley’s large—and you meant large—appendage thrusting desperately into his calloused hand between his gargantuan thighs. a bit of precum dribbled from the tip, trailing down his length only to be pushed back up by his fingers and creating a frothy ring near the head of his cock.
you had to stifle a gasp behind your clipboard, trying to process what the hell was happening. the prison administrator and his little friend definitely needed a minute, so you quickly swiveled around to give them just that—only for the sound of his chair screeching backward to freeze you in your tracks.
“who goes there?” his voice boomed throughout the office.
shit!
your heels weren’t doing you much of a favor as you bolted down the staircase, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins overrode every inconvenience to get you to the doorway as fast as possible. however, you didn’t have the strength to budge the doors open (what were they made of? tungsten!?), and before you could even blink, wriothesley had you trapped between the only way out and his bulky figure.
“you thought you could get away?” he snarled, grabbing you by the shoulder (with the hand that was just wrapped around his dick, mind you!) to twist you around and get a good look at your face. your clipboard clattered to the floor, and you nearly screamed when his cock—which was somehow more enraged than he was—prodded against your stomach, making your insides feel like they were doing backflips.
you tried your best not to look at… it… as you spoke up to defend yourself. “sir, it isn’t what it looks like—”
“i think it’s exactly what it looks like,” he interjected angrily, thick eyebrows furrowed above a pair of piercing blue eyes. “what? did one of your fellow inmates dare you to snoop on the warden for blackmail? how many coupons did they offer? hmm?”
“inmates? coupons?” now your eyebrows were furrowed. “monsieur, if you could please let me explain!”
it took a second for wriothesley to regain his senses, and after noticing your foreign attire and trembling form, he retreated at once. “archons, i…” he stroked his face with his hand and covered his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. “i’m terribly sorry. i thought you were one of them.”
“them?”
he nodded dejectedly in response before dropping his hand to the side and meeting your eyes, but this time, it wasn’t with indignation. “yes, a group of ill-intentioned people recently formed in order to unmask my secrets…” he had to look away for a moment before continuing. “...one of them being what i do in my office during lunchtime.”
“...oh.”
“as for you…” over his broad chest, he crossed his arms that could crush watermelons with one flex (okay, maybe you were overexaggerating.) “how did you gain entry into my office? it should have been locked.”
you cleared your throat. “a guard let me in.” wriothesley parted his lips to question that, but you were already one step ahead. “he seemed new.”
the warden managed to put two and two together, and a sense of dread began consuming him from head to toe. “you’re… the envoy from mondstadt,” he realized, a taste in his mouth more bitter than the tea he oversteeped this morning. “i must say: you’re a bit early.”
you replied with a light shrug, “the cavalry is expeditious.”
“right. that’s… great.” he gave you a tight-lipped smile. “could… could you give me a minute? i would like to make myself presentable so that i can give you a proper introduction, and… again, i want to apologize for having you walk in on something so vulgar. i’ll be sure to compensate for it in any way possible.”
your original plan from the beginning was to give this man a minute, but… the longer you stood in his presence, the more aroused you felt. he was really handsome, standing many heads taller than you and practically oozing with sex appeal. the tidbits about his appearance that you heard through the grapevine in mondstadt couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. watching him jerking off earlier, there was definitely a moment when you wanted to replace his hand with your cunt.
pause.
this might be the only opportunity for you to break away from the perfect image you were constantly upholding. throughout your adolescence and young adulthood, you had trained to become a professional in your field and garnered copious experience in diplomacy so that you could obtain a high-ranking position in government. this caused you to miss out on a lot of the joys in life, including sex. that was the first time you had seen a penis in the flesh.
“did you say any way possible?” you inquired.
“of course, i’m a reasonable man. i doubt i’ll be opposed to anything during today’s negotiations.”
after a moment of hesitation, you braced yourself for an eternity’s supply of humiliation and let your last thread of sanity snap in two. you fell to your knees right in front of his throbbing member, which was still as hard as a rock.
“...then you won’t be opposed to this, right?” you murmured. in a bold move, you leaned forward to press your cheek against the side of his cock, all while maintaining eye contact with him.
wriothesley sharply inhaled through his teeth, blood rushing to his face as he took a step back. “what… what are you…!?”
but he wasn’t dumb. he knew what you were intending. however, this felt more like you were doing a favor for him when he was supposed to be doing one for you.
and do one he shall. 
in one frame, you were hunkered down on the floor in front of his grace, and in the next frame, you were being carried to the second floor of the office in his sinewy arms. you were in no danger of being dropped, but you clung onto his shirt regardless, squealing your head off and flailing your legs like a feral animal, which only added to wriothesley’s amusement.
“are you regretting your decision?” he asked, his lips curled into a smug smile. “i can always stop. just say the word.”
your heart was racing at a mile a minute as he kicked a coffee table out of the way and plopped you onto the couch. when he crouched between your legs, a sheepish you batted his greedy hands away and hurriedly shoved your thighs together. “wait, i… this is escalating way too fast!” you quavered. “are we about to…” do the devil’s tango? the pickle in the jar? the train into the tunnel!?
a gruff chuckle rumbled from his chest. “you were the one who initiated it,” wriothesley pointed out with a wolfish grin. “i’m just finishing what you started, mondstadter.”
“but i just wanted to help you with your… ‘problem’!” you shot back, cheeks rivaling the red of a tomato. “why am i suddenly on the receiving end!?”
“ah, that’s where you’re wrong, because this will help me with my problem,” the duke replied, tugging your pants down your hips to reveal your drenched undergarment. you instantly convulsed and buckled your knees as he pressed his thick fingers against your clothed pussy, and when he drew them back, a string of wetness extended from your underwear to his fingertips.
remember when wriothesley convinced himself that all he needed was self-love?
fuck that.
“your grace!” you cried out as he dove forward and, with his hands anchoring your thighs, began ravaging your clit through the fabric, his tongue swirling and swiping against it ruthlessly. you had not even a millisecond to breathe as your vision blurred from tears of unmitigated satisfaction. with little strength, you reached out to wrench at his dark locks of hair, which only spurred him on further to attack your quivering folds.
archons almighty, what would it feel like if he—
as if he was reading your mind, wriothesley peeled your panties to the side, and the roughness of his tongue along with his pointer finger sliding in sent your body into another realm of pleasure. if accidentally smacking the back of your head against the couch’s gilded crest rail wasn’t the reason you saw stars just now, then it undoubtedly had to be the duke’s skillful ministrations.
“you’re so responsive,” wriothesley murmured, his hot breath deliciously fanning your skin. you were going crazy from his nose nudging against your sensitive bud as he flattened his tongue to completely coat each and every taste bud with your essence, and his digit continued to slide in and out at an inhumane speed, coaxing more and more of your whines and moans. “fuck, and your slut pussy is taking my finger so well. how many people have gotten the chance to see this pretty view?”
pretty view? you mentally scoffed while struggling to keep your wits about. says him! not every day did a tall, dark, and handsome man lap at your arousal like it was his last meal! you questioned how he could even breathe down there.
“no, i… j-just… just you…” you managed between labored gulps of air, your cheeks flushed of color. “i… i’ve never… d-done this… before.”
in the midst of leaving a bite mark on the side of your thigh, wriothesley abruptly extricated his finger, which made your pulsating hole very unhappy. “are you saying this is your first time?” he asked in disbelief.
you nodded timidly. when he didn’t respond right away, you grew worried that he got turned off by your admission, but weirdly enough, he snickered.
“looks like we’re in the same boat,” wriothesley stated to your bafflement. having withdrawn his finger, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean of your fluids before returning to lightly thumb your clit using circular motions. you had to scoot away because how else were you going to speak clearly with him doing that!? 
“y-you’re a virgin!?” you spluttered, ogling down at this man like he had just grown a horn on top of his head. 
“way to rub it in,” he jeered at you in a mocking tone. “yes, i’m a virgin. what’s so surprising?”
“because… you’re you!” you stressed. “have you seen yourself in the mirror? it’s a crime for you to look like a sex god without having had sex!”
once again, wriothesley found himself enlivened by your visceral reactions. when an advisor informed him of a diplomat’s advent this week, the warden was ready to be bored to tears by another mundane businessperson. and could you blame him? a few weeks ago, an ambassador hailing from sumeru went on and on about an invention that they wanted to promote to the fortress of meropide’s inhabitants.
…that invention boasted a 41% success rate.
so imagine wriothesley’s gaping jaw when, the moment you bent your knees and voiced your offer, all of his expectations were chucked out of the window.
“‘crime’?” he echoed, followed by a husky chuckle. “i see what you did there. how does it feel to be in love with a criminal?”
a frown weighed down the corners of your lips. “hold on. i may or may not be succumbing to a criminal, but who’s saying i’m in love with one?”
“your body is telling me everything i need to know,” rizzley wriothesley crooned as he rested the side of his head against your thigh. “well, except for your name.”
“…reader,” you answered breathily. “my name is reader.”
“reader.” he nodded in approval. “well, reader, let me show you how we do it in fontaine.”
with newfound vigor, wriothesley mounted the couch so that he was now towering over you and interlocked his hands with yours, pressing them into the vermillion back cushions on either side of your head. as if he was communicating to you that you could no longer escape his advances, even if they became too much.
for some time, he gazed intensely at your blushing face, committing each detail to memory, before he bent down and connected his lips to yours. you tentatively reciprocated his tender kisses, moving your mouth in ways that were unfamiliar yet exhilarating, and shutting your eyes slipped the ground away from your feet and made you feel like you were floating. he let go of one hand to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, which grew into him absentmindedly caressing your cheek like you were made of glass. your neck tickled. your ear burned. every single touch felt like fire on your skin. every kiss was slowly melting your body into mush, melding your body with his. there was no longer a distinction between where you ended and where he began.
after you parted your lips to impart the permission wriothesley’s tongue frenziedly sought, it wasn’t long before the kiss spiraled into a battle for dominance—a battle you lost in the blink of an eye. you could taste remnants of yourself on his tongue from his previous indulgences, which successfully heightened how aroused you were tenfold. your free hand crept up and started kneading your breast through your blouse, your moans swallowed by wriothesley’s mouth.
when he noticed you began touching yourself, he pulled away to your dismay.
he really liked how you craned your neck toward him at the very end of the kiss when he disentangled from you, as though his and your pairs of lips were opposite ends of a magnet. he liked seeing you craving more.
he didn’t like that you were getting ahead of yourself.
“nuh-uh, love,” he whispered, pulling your wrist to the side. “that’s my job.”
wriothesley tugged the hem of your blouse up to expose your bra, and he whistled at the sight. “beige?” he just had to point out with a smirk, bearing a canine. “you really know how to rile me up.”
you internally facepalmed at morning you’s choice of wardrobe. “i was walking into this expecting to have a proper conversation, not to get laid.”
he cocked an eyebrow and suddenly went into business mode. “what was your proposition anyway?”
you couldn’t help but laugh out loud before grasping his large hand and placing it on your chest. “are we really about to do our meeting now?” you chided him.
“you and i are already ‘meeting’ in every sense of the word.”
an affectionate smile broke through your face, and you tugged the man forward by his red tie. “come here, you big hunk.”
wriothesley mirrored your warmth and captured your lips in a searing kiss before traveling down to pepper smooches on your neck and suckle along your collarbone, his teeth the paintbrush and your skin the canvas. he slithered his fingers into the confines of your bra and pinched your nipples to elicit more r-rated sounds from your mouth, and in the corner of your low-lidded eyes, you became very conscious of the reality that his dick would twitch every time you moaned.
anemo archon, forgive me for mine own sins.
“reader,” he gasped. he hunched forward and almost smothered you with his chest as you began to stroke his cock, a bolt out of the blue. you weren’t expecting him to display such a visceral reaction, so you halted at the base of his manhood (which your hand couldn’t even fully wrap around…)
“did i do something wrong?”
“no, not at all,” he affirmed strongly. “i think the problem…”
…was that the sensation of your touch felt astonishingly different to him greasing the pole. it was a shuddering ecstasy that sprinted along his body and unlocked the carnal desires he had kept stowed away.
the key to his dick heart was supposed to have been eternally lost at sea. that was something he was sure of. that was something every person who tried to get close to him was sure of. so he ignored sigewinne’s recommendations, he ignored the rumors of his impotence among the prisoners, and he tried to ignore the hot flashes that jolted him awake in the dead of night, reminding him again that he had always been devoid of love since the start.
but then you came prancing into his office, swinging that key around your finger.
wriothesley’s breathing became shallow, and he pressed his lips firmly into a thin, white line as he stared down at you. how were you shining so splendidly in contrast to the dull lights of his office? how did your frowning lips still look so kissable? how were you looking at him like you were seeing right through him?
he didn’t even know you.
was he deluding himself?
did sigewinne spike his tea?
should he keep going?
what if he hurt you?
a gentle tapping on his forearm hauled wriothesley out of his rumination. he realized he was sweating a lot.
“now i’m sure i did something wrong,” you said worriedly.
wriothesley swallowed harshly before shaking his head, his tufted black hair swaying from side to side. “no… the problem is that… i don’t think i can hold back.”
“then what are you waiting for?” you deadpanned. “are you into blue balling?”
wriothesley blinked. “uh, not necessarily…”
“then let’s do it on your table.”
“reader…” wriothesley covered his blushing face with the back of his hand. “has anyone told you how… forward you can be?”
a giggle bubbled from your throat. “i’m pretty sure my field requires me to be forward. is it a turn-off?”
“i couldn’t be happier,” he reassured you gladly, and you were soon swept up into another bridal carry. “i will warn you though. if you make a mess of my documents, there will be punishment.”
you smiled. “looking forward to it.” (hopefully, wriothesley didn’t notice he was already going to need new seat cushions after this.)
wriothesley set you down onto his hardwood table, your back toward him, and had you prop one leg up onto the edge, putting your pussy on full display for his enjoyment. he watched in a hypnotic trance as your fluids dripped like a leaking faucet, and he wanted nothing more than to plug you up and fill your needy cunt to the brim. the warden soaked his fingers in your juices to lather them over his shaft, but while he had one hand gripping your hip and the other lining his member up with your entrance, his muscles stiffened. you peeked at him from over your shoulder.
“blue balling bastard!” you almost shouted, but he appeared too distraught to be badgered.
“i don’t have a condom,” wriothesley moaned, falling forward and smacking his forehead against your shoulder. for the first time in a long time, he really wanted to cry. “i would have to take the platform up to the city and grab one from a pharmacy for us, but—”
“—i can’t wait much longer,” you two finished in tandem breathlessly, eyes fixed upon each other. in a matter of seconds, this became a pressing matter that left you and wriothesley in deep contemplation. two strangers—total virgins at that—were literally about to raw dog it. honestly, your parents would be bouncing off the walls over this since they always lamented their graying hairs yet shortage of grandchildren.
but wriothesley… you knew a man of his status was much too preoccupied with handling affairs ranging from logistics to policy making. although the iudex of fontaine would be anyone’s first thought at the word “justice”, the administrator of the fortress of meropide delivered his own fair share of justice to maintain order when fights broke out in corridors, to overlook the production of gardemeks, and to protect the peace he had fostered in this very structure.
these things were what made you hurriedly request an audience with wriothesley in the first place. his impressive accomplishments as the new leader of the stronghold were what brought the you from mondstadt to the him in fontaine. however, you now found yourself in a sticky situation that would burden wriothesley further if you two took this risk. a child between you and him… that hadn’t been in your agenda.
plus, the steambird would really get a hoot out of this. “breaking news: mondstadt ambassador walked into the fortress of meropide and walked out with a baby lump.”
so, you made up your mind.
“wrio—”
“will you let me come inside of you, reader?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. your vaginal walls automatically clenched around nothingness at the thought as you gasped and gaped back at him in bewilderment.
“what…? are you sure!?”
wriothesley nodded. “i-i promise, reader, to be a loving partner to you and devoted father to our child,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve dreamt of having kids with the person i cherish so that they can grow up in a household where they feel safe, but… my greatest fear in life is becoming the monster that… th-that my foster parents were to me and my adoptive siblings.” his face went white. he could feel himself on the verge of vomiting, which he swore he had rooted out long ago. the scars on his body had never felt more painful. “i know that that belief is unfounded, but… i’ve been a violent person since i was a teenager. since the day that i… i killed them.”
“so if you do not wish to bear a child with a person like me, i understand,” wriothesley avowed, his eyes turned down in shame. “i can find other means to make you feel good, and i’ll just… go to the restroom to finish my business.”
you were finally learning about the warden's haunting backstory, sealed behind his assertive exterior. immediately, tears sprung to the corners of your eyes. you twisted your torso to cup his face with shaking hands and look him square in the face.
“wriothesley… you are so much more than your past,” you insisted earnestly. “are you not aware of how incredible of a person you are? of how many lives you have changed for the better? you couldn’t change the past, so you made it your life mission to change the future of every person who’s living and breathing in this stronghold right now. you converted your suffering into something that led to the liberation of many others’.” you gave him a wobbly smile through the tears streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. “that’s why i wanted to meet you, wrio. i wanted to meet the man behind the operations, behind the smiles on these prisoners’ faces. so please… don’t ever think badly of yourself.”
as the color returned to wriothesley’s cheeks, the duke couldn’t look away from the eyes that sparkled up at him so brilliantly. it was mesmerizing. his heart had never felt this full, and he wanted it to be as close to yours as possible. without missing a beat, his arms wrapped around your body, lightly brushing against your nipples in the process and causing them to harden on contact. he pressed his entire frontside against your back, and you could clearly feel his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage (and his dick saying hi from between your thighs).
“you’re so good to me, reader,” wriothesley mumbled. “what did i do to deserve this?”
you laughed and caressed the side of his head. “i just told you, idiot.”
his signature smirk returned in all of its glory, and he trailed his hands down to rest on your hips. “hold onto something.”
“what? agh!”
your body lurched forward once wriothesley drove his cock into your sopping heat, every inch dragging along your walls until he reached your cervix and his pelvic bone was right against your ass. a guttural moan escaped as he remained perfectly motionless, reveling in the feeling of your pussy rippling along his length, and you clamped a hand over your mouth to mask the embarrassing noises seeping through. the pain was unexpectedly minimal, but now you had to deal with this enormous object penetrating you to your very core. and not a moment passed before he started pushing in and out of you, squelching noises rebounding off the metal surroundings as your bated breath was yanked from your throat. throughout wriothesley’s grunts of exertion, a moan poured past your lips at each thrust, his balls slapping against your puffy lips and the table legs screeching in reply. his hands slid up to mercilessly flick your nipples with his thumbs at a rate that engendered tightening sensations to build up inside of your lower abdomen.
“wrio!” you exclaimed, writhing in ecstasy. you didn’t think you could handle the pert beads on your chest being fondled in unison with him pistoning your cunt from the back for another minute. “wr-wrio…! hnngh… ah! i feel so w-weird… ah! nngh…!”
“it’s a good weird, yeah?” growled wriothesley amid nibbling on your earlobe. “i can tell by the way your womb is descending to meet my cock, just begging for my seed. and that’s exactly what i’ll give you.”
“nngh, i… i’m… a-agh!” you pathetically blubbered. a stream of saliva ran from the corner of your lips as he pounded into your tight channel with savage intensity, the whites of your glazed eyes beginning to show. “i-i think i’m gonna c-come…!” 
“shit…” he rasped, noticing the telltale signs of an orgasm building up in both of you. “me, too…” he roughly grabbed your chin, fingers digging slightly into flesh, so that he could witness your expression contorting with bliss as you reached your cusp. “i want you to take every drop of my cum, reader. every fucking drop until nothing but my essence flows from your depraved hole.”
you nodded and pursed your lips, overwhelmed by the persistent and passionate onslaught on your pussy that was utterly molded into the shape of his velvet-wrapped steel. “yes, p-please…! wrio, please shoot it inside of me!”
finally, wriothesley bit down on your shoulder and slammed home into your depths, burying himself inside of your womanhood while releasing thick ropes of semen. your muscles convulsed and clamped down onto his cock with a vice, milking it until he had emptied his balls completely. the light humming of the industrial fan above commingled with the heavy panting of the two bodies that have become one, drunk on the languid atmosphere.
“you’re so obedient,” he cooed, nudging aside a lock of hair that was clinging to your sweaty forehead, whereas you were still reeling from wave after wave of endorphins. as you endeavored to muster the strength to respond, wriothesley glanced down at his files freshly marinating in your juices. “well, for the most part,” he added. “what did i say about my documents?”
“i…” you scowled and snapped back at him haughtily, “i wasn’t trying to ruin them!”
his mellow chuckle resonated in your ears, and in the ensuing seconds, the sound of clinking metal pivoted your attention.
“well, you can’t argue that they’re illegible now,” he said, effortlessly restraining your wrists in handcuffs from archons knew where. you also came to the startling realization that his member hadn’t softened one bit since he came within your spongy walls. “and as the duke of the fortress of meropide, i must carry out punishment where i see fit.”
“…lord barbatos.”
“haha, i love you, too.”
(several days later, charlotte got her big paycheck after spotting another “meeting” between you and wriothesley behind café lutece.)
Tumblr media
© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.
793 notes · View notes
babystrcandy · 5 months
Text
the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk
Tumblr media
summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut word count: 27.7K chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3
Tumblr media
chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue ( ← previous | next → )  
Tumblr media
FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:
Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay
Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down
Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change
Help Them to Help Themselves
Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety
OK . . .
You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.
The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.
Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . . 
But . . . 
There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to. 
It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.
So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.
It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless). 
Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him. 
That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.
So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.
“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”
Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.
Yeah . . . 
It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.
That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)
Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic. 
The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS. 
Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)
And then it would be your turn. 
Actually . . . 
You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.
“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.
Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”
You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.
Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”
You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket. 
All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.
But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .
(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)
Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.
And that was what always shocked you.
“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.
Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.
Your brows scrunched together. “What?”
But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”
Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.
“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”
“It’s chapstick.”
“Really?”
“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”
Jungkook only grinned.
And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.
“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm. 
“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”
“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”
Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”
It was. It actually really was. 
“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest. 
But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”
Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”
“So I’ve impressed you?”
“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug. 
Jungkook snorted. “Well.”
Oh god. No, he didn’t.
Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”
His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought.  “Well . . . “
“Kook.”
Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.
“Really?” you deadpanned.
Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”
“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”
And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”
Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—
But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.
Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.
It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar. 
“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”
You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.
“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.
“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”
Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”
He nodded. “Really.”
“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”
His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”
A beat of silence.
Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“
“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”
Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”
You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”
“That’s because I can’t.”
“Bullshit.”
“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”
Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.
And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.
(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . . 
Supposedly.)
Tumblr media
It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face. 
“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).
“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”
His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”
A beat of silence.
Another shrug was your only response.
Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”
Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”
“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice. 
And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.
“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.
“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.
You raised your head ever so slightly.
To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.
And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.
Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”
You felt yourself grin. “Good.”
The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts. 
(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . . 
What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.
Whatever.)
And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief. 
Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.
It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.
“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.
He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”
Daisy baby. That was a new one.
Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed. 
It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again. 
It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar. 
Did you like it? 
You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.
Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.
But what exactly was this?
. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .
Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.
And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“ 
But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.
The two of you paused.
A beat of silence.
Another knock came.
Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you. 
Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)
No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.
“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.
Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.
“What—“ 
But he was already gone. 
His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—
Oh. You blinked in shock.
In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?
Huh?
Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.
Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look. 
Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)
That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.
Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“
“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”
Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”
Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”
A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “
As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”
And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be? 
With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.
You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.
If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.
If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.
“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “
You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .
Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.
Then . . . 
. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.
Tumblr media
In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)
And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.
Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!
Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?
But . . . you were . . .
As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.
And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.
“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.
You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”
Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:
“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.
Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.
“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight. 
(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))
And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”
Lie.
He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .
But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—
. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.
Until:
“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”
Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone. 
“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.
Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him. 
He only sent you a knowing grin.
And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.
“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”
You nearly smacked a hand to your face.
“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”
And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.
Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”
“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”
Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”
“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care. 
That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.
And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then. 
It seemed he always was . . . 
That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.
But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.
It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki. 
Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care. 
It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent? 
Were you . . . happy?
And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?
In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . . 
A beat of silence. 
In it more relief. 
Beat.
Beat.
Beat . . .
But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.
You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.
And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.
Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality. 
Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him. 
Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.
That was weird.
You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?
And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.
Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.
Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.
And you were a step behind him.
“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”
But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.
You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to. 
Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.
But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.
So what? You’d find him. You had to.
Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you. 
“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.
But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.
Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.
So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!
Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.
“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words. 
Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“ 
The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat. 
And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”
A beat of silence.
You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before. 
But you really didn’t care.
Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“
But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.
Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”
His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”
“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”
Jimin blinked. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “
“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”
Another beat of silence.
Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . .  in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”
Oh . . .
Don’t say it.
Don’t say—
Don’t—
But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”
Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”
You just had to say it . . . 
“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”
With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.
But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.
“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.
Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism. 
A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”
Instantly, your heart dropped. 
He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.
You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing. 
But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.
“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”
And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other. 
To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.
It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . . 
The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”
His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?
“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “
“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.
It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.
But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”
“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”
You raised your brows. “Why not?”
“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”
And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.
“Is it?”
Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”
But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.
The world stopped.
A beat of silence. 
Two beats.
Another.
. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat. 
And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.
Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.” 
He loved you? He . . .
“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”
Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!
“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”
But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart? 
You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.
If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.
That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”
Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin. 
Had it reached your heart?
“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason. 
Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become. 
That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything. 
And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done. 
Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too. 
Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.
And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”
Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.
Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”
Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves. 
How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?
“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”
I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it. 
But no one was to blame.
No one.
Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.
“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”
Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you? 
And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?
“Min?” 
The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face. 
“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.
That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . . 
Wait . . . 
Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near. 
Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean? 
No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No. 
Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—
Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . . 
And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.
The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”
A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.
It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you. 
This could be it.
A new leaf.
For him.
For Jungkook.
For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”
“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”
And you nodded back with a smile.
The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.
You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.
Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would. 
Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.
Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.
You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.
Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.
How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.
But you had to try. For him . . .
And then you remembered:
Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:
Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay
Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down
Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change
Help Them to Help Themselves
Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety
But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.
Hesitantly, you took a step forward.
But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?
Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just— 
“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.
In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”
I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.
It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.
The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.
“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”
Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”
And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.
It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going. 
“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.
But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.
Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.
“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”
Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”
And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . . 
His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory. 
Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”
“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.
“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.
“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”
In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.
Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?
The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now. 
Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.
Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.
A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed. 
Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”
And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”
“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.
Another beat of silence.
And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”
Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.
Tumblr media
It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard.
As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.
You supposed it would always end this way.
I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—
And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.
and the cry that always escapes, the low, humiliating premise of union—
Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . . 
But . . . 
In my mind tonight I hear the question and pursuing answer fused in one sound that mounts and mounts and then is split into the old selves, the tired antagonisms. Do you see? We were made fools of. And the scent of mock orange drifts through the window.
But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?
How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world?
That odor.
That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.
. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.
But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.
It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.
But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.
Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.
And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.
You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing. 
And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.
As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.
Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.
How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?
You were sure you never would.
And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?
Who were you without . . . badminton?
That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?
Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried. 
And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia. 
You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . . 
Those three years . . .
All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.
Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.
Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.
In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more. 
The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?
There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.
And you took it every time.
The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?
Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?
You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)
Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.
Anyway.
Focus on the present.
Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.
The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . . 
And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—
You checked your phone.
—an hour and a half ago.
It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)
The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too. 
But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.
Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring. 
It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.
And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.
You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .
“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.
Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.
You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.
“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.
His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.
And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh. 
“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”
With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”
You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear. 
And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?
Perhaps . . . 
It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life. 
But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.
It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.
Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."
And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help. 
Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?
God, you wished you knew the answers. 
“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.
“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”
And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.
So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.
A beat of silence followed your confession.
The world exhaled.
You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."
Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.
Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”
His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."
And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you. 
I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.
Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose. 
I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.
"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.
His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.
But you had.
Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.
Haunt me.
Haunt me.
Haunt me.
Give it to me, and breathe.
That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.
Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."
His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”
You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”
That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”
And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.
“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.
And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)
So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.
Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.
It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books? 
Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.
It was sweet. Innocent. 
It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?
And that was when you realized something . . .
“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.
Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.
How could he ever think he deserved this?
Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”
Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”
And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”
The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.
I’m a better person because of you.
How could I ever be unhappy with that?
And you knew you meant every word.
The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now. 
Not here. 
Not with him.
Tumblr media
When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now. 
Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.
You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . . 
. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.
Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt. 
Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page. 
But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.
There’s something soft in me—
You remembered reading long ago.
—we killed it and it’s rotting.
And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.
So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.
Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now. 
Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then? 
Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway? 
. . . 
Whatever. 
It didn’t mean much, right? 
There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . . 
With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))
“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air. 
Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.
Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”
“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.
You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”
And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.
Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.
So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.
But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.
“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.
(There’s something soft in me—
But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.
—we killed it and it’s rotting.)
So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”
His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “
And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).
While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.
Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.
There’s something soft in me—
we killed it and it’s rotting.
It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.
Off the highway like another deer.
You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.
Off the highway like another girl.
What was . . . this?
It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.
You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—
You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.
But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.
I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.
You needed air. You needed to run.
Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.
But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.
Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”
All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).
But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”
“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?” 
You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.
But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.
So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”
And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”
That was it.
I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . . 
You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward. 
. . . And then you were gone.
Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.
And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived. 
A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.
But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.
This wasn’t a fire. Far from it. 
It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.
And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.
Tumblr media
Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?
It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.
Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.
And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true. 
Whatever . . .  it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.
That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?
Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . . 
“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)
Still . . . 
. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.
So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge. 
Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.
(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)
His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.
Silence for only a beat more.
And then, he spoke.
“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.
And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?). 
Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.
Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”
And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”
Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”
Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.
It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been. 
But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.
Fuck.
It really was that, wasn’t it?
You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it. 
But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.
So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .
Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “
Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”
“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”
A few beats of silence.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “
Oh.
Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.
But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?
“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.
“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”
Home.
He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future. 
It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.
Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.
“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”
Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.
Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)
And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”
There.
Right there.
There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.
What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?
It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought. 
And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?
“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”
A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”
Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.
You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .
Until . . . 
. . . until him.
And you had no idea how to handle that.
“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.
Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.
“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.
“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”
Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”
Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.
He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”
You swallowed hard.
You’re the one who haunts me.
Oh . . . 
And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?
You swallowed hard once again.
“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”
“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . . 
“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles.  “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”
I want you to help me live.
It echoed in your ears.
I want you to help me live.
I want you to help me live.
I want you to—
Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?
But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.
“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”
Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?
Whatever.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words. 
OK, he nodded. 
OK, he smiled. 
OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.
OK.
Tumblr media
There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles. 
The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.
And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault. 
It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant. 
But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.
(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)
But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.
You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!
And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.
Then it would be your screams which filled the room.
Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself. 
That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash. 
. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.
With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.
Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . . 
You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.
And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.
But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams. 
You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).
Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).
Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).
“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)
“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?
God . . . what had you turned into?
“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).
Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.
“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”
Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.
Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”
You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.
But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.
Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him. 
Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”
Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”
Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . . 
But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.
And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”
“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”
“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.
Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”
Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”
He only laughed.
A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . . 
“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.
This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”
“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”
Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)
He wasn’t kidding.
But . . . 
“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”
His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”
Oh no.
No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you. 
He wanted you to like him back . . .
So then you had—oh, no!
“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”
Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”
“Yes! Obviously!”
“Oh, shit . . . “
And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.
“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder
“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”
“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.
His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.
“Obviously.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”
In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”
“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.
Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”
“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.”
But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”
“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.
“Mmm.”
Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.
“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )
“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.
And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.
That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.
That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).
A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds. 
That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.
Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.
He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.
“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.
“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”
Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.
“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.
He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.
And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.
He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.
“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)
“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.
It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other. 
Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.
The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.
It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”
And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.
It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.
But there he was. He was always right there . . . 
Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in. 
It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.
And it seemed neither could he . . . 
"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.
Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"
You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “
His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”
How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?
And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once. 
It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features. 
(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)
Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?
Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”
And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.
Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.
Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.
“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”
And you knew that was it.
With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.
“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”
“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”
Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.
The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch. 
You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.
He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.
Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.
And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . . 
“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes. 
Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes. 
And then . . . then it hit you.
“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”
I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.
And that scared the shit out of you.
Tumblr media
taglist:
@hrts4kook , @taehyungs-chopsticks , @loomipee , @st3ft0n3s , @callmenada , @neg-l3ct , @dawn33 , @illegurlbangtan , @jeonsdetails , @rihabaxl , @yoongipost , @jjk1iscoming , @miumiugurl , @sadgirlroo , @lucwithbangtan , @iamsisuu , @shanelleeex , @beonim , @sherlynxx , @fairy1919 , @purplewhales , @bloopkook , @ggukcanim , @bloodline1632 , @jungkooksseuphoria , @tea4sykes , @mugiwaraelly , @darkuni63 , @jalexad , @lpgirl2324 , @fairy-jaykay , @h0tvillainap0logist , @stuffy16 , @keniicastillo , @yoongukie-ff , @seesawe , @chocolatesublimesoul , @yopjm , @jeonlovescoffee , @xmirvamx , @jk-190811 , @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase , @vminkookgf , @werxyz , @tornparts , @aprilspring , @kswr1d , @jimilter , @02010802 , @sunsetnamjin​ , @lonekittycat , @moonchild1 , @hanamgi , @yoongslast , @heronstairsxd @pointofviewyugyeom
503 notes · View notes
358jours · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Jing Yuan x GN!Reader⎢Bird in my hands
Word Count⎢1840
Genre/Tags⎢SFW, fluff, Reader has wings, wing grooming, softness and non-sexual intimacy, written and posted before game launch⎢Crossposted on AO3
Tumblr media
Jing Yuan, now labeled ‘Dozing General’ behind doors, used to reign upon the battlefield in his younger days. His awareness, his foresight, his strategy, his instinct, his strength, all made him terrifying to fight. With the aid of the lighting element, few were the enemies he wasn’t able to take down. Perhaps the no man’s land was waiting to be claimed by him, to be renamed “Jing Yuan’s land”. 
He wasn’t perfect of course, he had his share of lost battles. But he had led his men to victory far many more times than he ever had defeat. 
Peace has claimed Xianzhou since then. Everything has changed, and no longer does he need to kill for victory. The battles moved from warfronts to conference rooms. Through diplomatic negotiations, treaties, alliances, trades, the living conditions of the citizens improved. His did too.
He has adapted, and every day still uses the many skills he learned on the battlefront. He is meticulous in his routine, planning everything so that no problem arises. Perhaps another person would’ve complained about the mental toll. But he is Jing Yuan, to deal with the consequences rather than preventing them is not his style. Better be safe than sorry as many say, and surely, all of this is why he follows the path of erudition. 
He savors peace in his own way. Taking a nap, laying in the sun, going on a stroll, enjoying the way he can just be bored– those are all the fruits of his hard work. His drowsy demeanor makes him appear lazy in the eyes of others, but he is content knowing none have to deal with his “actually acting like a general” persona. It is much less enjoyable for everybody. 
He was often compared to a lion back on the battlefield, and it still fits him now, in different ways.
You were attributed to his flagship, the Xianzhou Luofu, not as a soldier but as a scout for reconnaissance and investigation. After all, there is little use in making you a regular fighter when that pair of wings on your back gives you many other opportunities. Bird people aren’t the hybrid norm in Xianzhou as it is the known territory of Foxians. 
Perhaps this is why you caught his attention– his subconscious feline instincts reacting to your rare avian attributes. Natural prey and predator, or something along those lines. He had listened to his urges once– to tease you for one of your miscalculations despite being barely acquainted general and subordinate. The face and noises you made had been far too entertaining. Playfully bothering you and seeing your honest reactions to his banter became one of his favorite pastimes. 
Which is why when he finds you squirming around, he doesn't announce his presence. You are trying to reach something on your back, stretching yourself into unspeakable positions to achieve your goal, but with no luck. The curses leaving your lips constantly make the general raise an eyebrow. He has never heard you swear this much in a single instance. 
As much as your floundering entertains him, it is getting a little painful. “May I help?” 
“Ah!” To say you jump in surprise would be an understatement. Your wings flap instinctively, and bam, into the ceiling. Your landing is quite off too. You grasp at the top of your head with your hands, ‘ow ow ow ouch’. Yanqing, passing by right at that moment, laughs his heart out. The loud sound rings out throughout the halls, even after he is gone. Your embarrassment deepens. 
Finally you turn around. “Is there anything amiss, General?”
“It seems you are struggling with something. I was wondering if you needed my aid. I’d rather you don’t end up with a concussion.” Jing Yuan laughs. 
“I– I’m pretty sure a concussion is harder to get than simply this, sir.” You look at the floor, abashed. He only chuckles, his trademark lazy smile on his face. One moment pass, another, and finally you cave when your eyes meet his. “As for help, well… Something in my wings is bothering me and I don’t know where I put my brush. Just combing through with my hands is usually fine but my arms are errr too short for this I fear. If you have the spare time I would appreciate the help. I’m a bit embarrassed to ask you that as you are my superior though.” 
All in one breath. Jing Yuan smiles a bit more. “Of course, to be allowed to touch a bird-person’s wings, isn’t that the highest honor possible?” 
Your hands scratch the back of your head sheepishly before you turn around to lead him somewhere else. He follows, nonchalant. Though you’re trying your best not to open them in enclosed space, he sees your wings flutter every now and then. He wonders how long it has been bothering you, where you’re taking him to. The only sounds covering the silence between you two are the clanking sounds of his armor and your footsteps.
He gets his answer when you two walk into a somewhat large room. Judging by the furniture, it’s half a lounge. But by the hammock suspended in the room and personal items scattered all over the place, it’s half a private bedroom. It’s not located in the living quarters either. He sees you remove your shoes and put them in a shoe rack by the door. The tension in your body seems gone in an instant. He inquires then, “Is this your room?” 
“Technically it’s no one’s, but I’ve furnished it and have been living in it the longest. Please remove your shoes and come here once you’re done.” You walk to a chest in the corner, and take out a bunch of pillows that you throw on the fluffy rug. 
He does as you say and puts his boots by the rack. It’s odd, having to remove his shoes in a bedroom, it’s a habit he lost with time after he was assigned this ship. It’s something he does when he gets back to the mainland, something he does when he visits friends. Even in his own room, he has grown out of it. 
The wooden floor creaks under his weight, until his feet land on the soft and fluffy rug. He arranges the pillows around before he sits down cross legged. He’s honestly surprised by how nice it feels.
“Yanqing and I found this room together, it was pretty much empty back then. I was sleeping in the shared quarters, which was quite a problem since every time my wings would move in my sleep, it’d wake someone up. I asked him if I could have it as my own. He already has his own quarters, so I could have it as long as he could visit anytime. He likes to nap in the hammock and take care of his sword here whenever it rains.” 
You come to sit before him, your back facing him.
Jing Yuan blinks slowly. His mind is computing what you just told him. He hadn’t considered that aspect of you having those wings, he had viewed them –and you by extension– as an advantageous asset, and forgot to take other situations into consideration. This is proof that he still has shortcomings, even in his meticulous planning. “I apologize, I would have prepared something had I known sleeping arrangements were going to be an issue.” 
“Ah no, no, it’s me! We didn’t tell anyone about it and besides, it worked out in my favor at the end of it.” Nervousness suddenly takes over you, afraid you accidentally offended your superior. 
“Do not worry, you have not offended me. Besides, this is your personal space, we are equals here. Please don’t treat me as your superior when we are alone, yes?” He only laughs. The second information is something he has to verify himself– “I’m glad you are so close to Yanqing.” 
“Ah I wouldn’t call it ‘so close’, I’m not sure if we’re even true friends. He’s a good lieutenant when he needs to be, but the rest of the time he’s… I’m not sure how to say it, I don’t think I’m anyone special to him. He’s so extraverted and friendly, it’s hard for anyone to dislike him, or to not tell him whenever they need help with something. He probably knows all the latest gossip too.” you laugh too.  
“That is true. I’m lucky to have him as my lieutenant.” With your back facing him, you don’t get to see his relieved expression, or the way he smiles at you so fondly. “Are you ready?”
“Ah! Yes, of course!” Your wings stretch wide, and Jing Yuan is impressed with the size of them. No wonder sleeping has been a problem for you. “You can pretty much go through the feathers like how you would with your hair. Though they’re pretty sensitive, they’re also sturdier than what most people believe. Do not hesitate if you have to use strength.”
The general hums in response. His hand slowly touches the base of your wings, curious. He has pet small birds in the past, those who didn’t fear him due to his laidback aura. But your feathers are different, for obvious reasons. They are all lined up almost perfectly, their colors much more vibrant up close. They’re incredibly soft to the touch, the smoothness surprising him somehow. 
While he’s very tempted to, he has to do more than simply pet your wings. He’s smart however, and figures he can go at a slower pace so he can enjoy this feeling a bit more. It’s a guilty pleasure he won’t mention. 
It’s his first time doing this of course, but somehow it feels like he has much more experience. He starts combing through the feathers with much care, paying attention to each bump and irregularity. He massages the wing bone before his hands go back through your plumage. You told him he could use more strength, but he’s skilled enough not to. He removes dead feathers so very softly that you don’t feel it. He notices your form relaxing gradually. Your back slumps bit by bit, your wings slowly getting closer to touching the ground. Pride blooms in his chest.
He’s not sure how much time has passed, but once he’s done with both wings you’re sitting asleep. You stir, and when he realizes you’re about to fall, he catches you in his arms. It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much as you try to make yourself comfortable against his armoured chest. He thinks about his options carefully, what were his planned duties for the day. But… he is the Dozing General for a reason.  
He’s careful when he moves to lay on his back, avoiding big sounds made by his armor. You, already in dreamland, don’t seem to mind it and only protest when he moves your head to put a pillow under it. 
With the both of you comfortable, Jing Yuan finally closes his eyes. 
2K notes · View notes
neopuppy · 2 years
Text
Saturday Drip (M)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Preview: “Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.
“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”
Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”
“To film content.”
Pairing: alpha NCT Dream 00line x female omega reader
Word Count: 15k+
Genre: a/b/o AU, broke college boys, pure and utter filth, cnc(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.), pwp, dom alphas, one shot(do not ask for a pt2😾)
Smut Warning: rough sex, breeding, knotting, rough oral(m/f), double penetration(both), choking, spit, squirting, praise/degradation, big mean alphas, camera use, manhandling, mind break, wet & messy etc
Playlist: Saturday Drip/NCT Dream, Big Ole Freak/Megan The Stallion, Super Freaky Girl/Nicki Minaj, Hi, I’m A Slut/Lil Mariko, Cyber Sex/Doja Cat, Sexxx Dreams/Lady Gaga
Tumblr media
It’s hot, it’s way too hot. Sweats already begun to pool under Jeno’s back, limbs gone heavy stuck to his bed. It’s useless trying to get off when all he can focus on is the lack of cool air blowing out of the vent. Everything feels dry and musty around him making it impossible to even breathe peacefully.
The AC unit just had to break last night, again. Only an hour after he’d just rushed home from his shift at the gym. Opting to skip showering in the locker rooms after clocking out when his phone pinged with a new notification.
‘Riding an inflatable sybian, how long can I last?’
“Fuck.” Jeno mumbles to himself, quickly grabbing his belongings. He’d just rinse off real fast once he gets home. It’s gonna be a long night anyway. Not in the way he’d imagined with his palm wrapped around his cock, edging himself for hours on end in front of a computer screen.
It’s not as if he has a paper due on Monday, prioritizing his favorite Omega fucking a sex machine over his grades without question or worry. He paid for a monthly subscription for good reason. It’s not like it’s his goal in life was to be a nutritionist anyway. Most of his time in class was spent on daydreaming of how he could just fuck his way to success and fortune instead.
Not that this had anything to do with the amount of porn acquiring his desktop, or the hours he wasted away watching obscene videos. If only his essay was about how to properly eat ass.
“Hey.” Jaemin greets him upon entering. Standing in front of the open freezer door with sweat trickling down his bobbing throat.
“Dude what the fuck? It’s disgusting in here.” Jeno can’t stand the heat. Having to psyche himself out to believe he didn’t just stand too close to multiple bodies in a hot subway cart. Ignoring hot breath reaching his neck as he stood taller than those around him making his journey home all the more uncomfortable.
“Yeah,” closing the freezer door, Jaemin lays his torso on the kitchen counter sluggishly. “Pretty sure the air conditioning broke, again. I called up Mark to let him know. He said no one can come fix it until Monday.”
“Last time he said that, no one came for three weeks!” Jeno exclaims, ripping open the fridge for a frozen water bottle to rub on his sweltering skin. “Jaem, I can’t live like this! It’s over 100 degrees outside.”
“I know, trust me. I’ll keep badgering him, alright?” Jaemin sighs. Already drained of energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.
“I have to get going, you can use my fan for now.” Jaemin offers, using paper towels to dab away sweat before heading out. Knowing he’ll be dripping in it with a heavy bag of camera equipment on his back.
“Where are you going?” Jeno’s already removing his clothes. Jamein mumbling for him to not plaster his wet naked ass to their couch.
“I got a gig finally, I should be back late.” Hauling on his equipment he waves a ‘later’ before stepping out. Head tilting up curiously as he hears shouting.
“Answer me you fucking piece of shit!!”
“Dude what happened to you? Why are you drenched?” Jaemin pauses mid-walk. Adjusting the camera gear weighing on his shoulders as he spots Renjun on the phone outside of his apartment.
“A pipe busted above my room! There’s a huge leak in my closet!” Renjun’s frantic, arm waving around behind him as he explains. “And our fucking AC isn’t working! Again!”
“Oh my God, I’d tell you to crash at mine but ours isn’t working either!” Jaemin sighs, shaking his head. “We need to move out of this shit hole.”
“Tell me about it!” Renjun groans, slamming a thumb down on his phone to hang up. “Haechan’s gonna be so pissed off when he gets home. He’s been working overtime today cause we’re short on rent again.”
“We pay way too much to live in this crap, just because it’s a mile away from SNU.” Jaemin says with a roll of his eyes. “So much for college being the best years of our lives.”
“That’s high school,” Renjun corrects, waving him off. “I have to check on the leak. Catch you later man.”
Nodding to his friend Jaemin continues toward the exit. Passing the broken elevator that Mark claimed would get fixed 5 months ago, never once spotting a maintenance person in sight.
Out of desperation he ended up searching for freelance photographer jobs. Weddings required too much experience, editorials asking for examples of work and complete portfolios.
It felt hopeless until he landed on an ad seeking someone with less experience. Specifically stating they wouldn’t mind an intern level type who is still in the process of learning. Wishing for more ‘gritty’ and ‘real’ photography that can pass off as homemade.
‘Must be comfortable with full nudity and sex acts. You will be shooting and filming content for my xxx website. 21+ with ID proof and examples of your work. Contact me directly via email to set up a time.’
Jaemin decided to neglect mentioning that part to his roommate. It was either this or he’d be short on rent like his next door neighbors’ current struggle. Knowing Jeno he’d hear ‘pornographic content’ and ask to tag along as his assistant for the day. Casually joking about how he could fuck better than the Alphas in video links shared through their group chats.
‘I guess if I’m ever desperate enough for money I’d do it. My dicks big enough.’
Jaemin always thought his friend was too brash for saying such ridiculous things nonchalantly.
He could never have anticipated reaching that level of desperation himself mere hours later.
He’s not sure what to think as he stands in your bedroom. Struggling to process a thought while you continue explaining your field of work, tossing different sets of colorful lingerie onto a king-size bed decorated like something straight out of a home decor magazine.
“We don’t have to take the photos in my room, I’m open to whatever you’re thinking.”
“Oh, yeah yeah..” he nods, taking in the lacey sheer frilly garments splayed out before him. Glancing between the heavy sweats and hoodie you have pulled on covering any bit of scandalous flesh.
Of course you’re covered up, with cool icy air filling the room, silently blasting from a vent above. The sweat pouring off his skin immediately evaporated after being welcomed inside. “What type of theme did you want to stick with?”
“Hmm,” swinging a stringy pair of panties around your index finger, your head tilts thoughtfully. “Summer? I guess baby oil, suns out buns out type of vibe.”
Jaemin clears his throat, twisting his eyebrows up asking if he can take a look through your drawers. “Do you have ice cream by chance?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Flavor?”
“Strawberry popsicles, I think I have some Vanilla Bean too. Are you hungry?”
Turning back to face you, he holds up a two piece micro white bikini. “I have an idea, I’m thinking out on the balcony would be best.”
Jaemin’s very professional considering the lack of experience on his resume. He asks permission before touching anything, double checks that you’re comfortable with any of his suggestions. For an Alpha, he’s kept cool and collected, even as you start to disrobe. The bathing suit he handpicked doing little to nothing to subside less than pure thoughts from unraveling. He gulps, forcing himself to focus on pretending to set the camera up.
Suddenly he was beginning to understand why Jeno’s been dropping absurd amounts of money to jerk off to your content.
“Is this okay?”
His eyes drag up slowly, from your manicured white painted toenails, up the expanse of glistening oiled up skin leading to your pressed together thighs where a miniature triangle shape conceals nothing in-between.
“Uhh..” he salivates, lapping at the roof of his mouth like a thirsty dog.
“Jaemin?” Your tone changes from one of concern to amusement, continuing to spritz your hair with water for a wet summer look.
“You look great.” He nods rapidly, quickly averting his attention to your chest jiggling beneath two tied together triangles with each movement you make. “Sorry, was just a little surprised.”
“You must be mated?”
Jaemin blinks, taken aback by your forwardness, shaking his head before words can exit his dry tongue. “Not at all, why would you think that?”
“Oh, you’re well-mannered, for an Alpha.” You note, shrugging and gesturing to the deck area. “How should I pose?”
“Let’s get some close-up shots first.” Jaemin directs you to catch sunlight draping streams of golden rays across your face. Half shadowed and lit up by the natural light. Instructing you to slowly unwrap one popsicle and take your time to suck on it.
“I think you’ll really like these.” The click click of his camera continues, zooming in to capture your lips pouting around sugary red liquid dripping down under the heat of your mouth paired with hot weather. “Let it spill.”
Growing confident with his position, Jaemin motions for you to hold the popsicle above your parted lips, allowing the treat to pour down your throat. The majority of it missing, staining white lycra fabric stretched over your breasts.
“You’re getting hot right?” He switches to record, nodding to the lounge chair for you to sit on. “Cooling off with a popsicle?”
“Mhmm”
Jaemin stays silent, capturing the wet droplets of red passing down your abdomen to land between your thighs. He lets you pose lewdly, tracing the popsicle down to melt against your bikini bottoms, lighting up hot where your cores melted the fabric to you like a second skin.
“I’m so hot, Alpha.” Hazy eyes and a tempting tone mesmerize the man behind the camera, sinking down to squat and zoom in on slick gushing out onto your spread inner thighs. “Need you to cool me off.”
You rub the popsicle up and down, pushing against the crease that's melted into your dripping wet slit. The red dye used in the treat leaves a stain of sweetness on your bottoms. The white bleeding out into a pink the more it melts, left to wither down to nothing but a wooden stick with a phrase that reads “Today is your lucky day!” hidden under the frozen liquid that’s altered your swimsuit.
Jaemin clenches his teeth to contain a muffled curse. Twitching inside the confinement of his jeans as you arch up higher, pushing your chest up. Round mounds call to his tongue, sticky and wet from oils and sweat.
“Hmm, no I was thinking more like..” The Alpha seems more heated now, possibly from the sweltering heat burning down on your backs. Possibly from the close proximity or the obscene positions you’ve fallen into under his command. He scoops two digits into the tub of melted Vanilla ice cream, lifting them to your lips to lap at. Camera shutters sound as your tongue swirls, sucking some of the sweetness while the rest trickles out pouring down your chin to your exposed chest.
“That’s good,” he whispers, scooping more to dribble down your cheeks and breasts. Watery white cream creates a more lewd image, paired with heavy eyelids shielding your seductive gaze.
“Tell me what to do, Alpha.”
“Turn around.” He instructs, nodding in approval when you get onto all fours and crane your neck for more direction. You’re a natural, he thinks, propped with your ass up at a perfect angle. The sun hitting just right to define the dip in your back and heady gaze staring back at him.
Jaemin can’t believe it when his free hand reaches for the tub of ice cream, pouring the remnants down to land in globs on your buttcheeks. The indecency in front of him feels like a punch to his gut, having to snap photos of the cream trickling down the back of your thighs. The sight before him more pornographic and delicious than he can fully process.
He croaks for you to spread, losing his cool demeanor as your knees slide further apart, playing with the thin strings on your hips. The flossy material cuts between the meat adorning your hips and backside, squishing the shiny delicacy displayed.
“Alpha..” you breathe, falling to your side to give him a full visual of your body lines. Dips and curves shadowed like art with sun rays sliding across your skin.
Jaemin debates with himself, thoughts spiraling that you could just be acting, or you could actually be calling for him to do something. To make the first move, to touch you where you begin to part and show off glistening slick dripping down to the backs of your thighs.
“You’re doing really good.” He swallows, mercilessly throbbing inside of his boxers. “How far are you—..”
He drawls off, following the pathway your digits make between your covered folds. Chest rising and falling rapidly as more sweat sprinkles down from the back of his neck to pool at the dips on his lower back.
“Alpha.”
Jaemin thinks he’s imagining your saccharine vocals whining for him, each letter passing through his ears like dry cotton. Snapping out of it as the heel of your foot nudges his knee, trailing up to rest your toes just where his pants have begun to tent out.
“Uhhh..”
“Alpha, I’m so hot.” You tease, sucking sticky ice cream residue off your fingers. “Won’t you cool me down?”
He wonders what his breaking point will be, fingers shaking around his camera more and more with each photo snapped.
“We’re losing light.” He mutters to save his ass, biting at the back of his tongue to prevent himself from getting fired by unleashing the amount of impure thoughts racing through his mind.
“Do you need a ride home?” Sitting up, your demeanor swaps in an instance, returning to the relaxed mood you had prior to the shoot.
Jaemin’s breath lodges, head shaking as he swiftly adjusts his shirt to hang lower before his crotch before standing up. “All good, no worries.”
“I’m a mess.” You laugh, sporting an expression of disgust while swiping a towel up and down your arms. “Are you sure? I can call you a cab.”
Jaemin refuses to meet your gaze, too embarrassed with his cheeks lit aflame by heat and mortification. He waves breezily, beginning to pack up his belongings. “No worries, I don’t live too far.”
He’s lying, and dreading the long journey back home that will drain his the minimal energy he has left with this humid heat.
“Here, I’ll grab you some water bottles to take for the trip.”
He keeps calm, situating his fully hardened length beneath the hem of his jeans when you turn away. Covering that he’d begin editing tonight and send you the final products as soon as possible.
“Get home safe.” You smile, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “If any Omega catches you sporting wood on the subway, they’ll have you arrested for being such a pervert.”
Jaemin’s cheeks burn bright red with his hand stilling in the air to wave goodbye. A girlish laugh follows as you wave him goodbye and close your door to shower off the remnants of sweet ice cream sticking to your skin. The image of big round eyes full of lust paint the back of your mind, memorizing thick fingers smearing a treat on your chin.
Tumblr media
“These turned out great.”
Jaemin’s back, pep talking himself up on the way over to your place to stay cool. Money’s on the line here.
“I really like your style.” You say, browsing through the photos Jaemin took of you yesterday. Too distracted to give you his full attention as he once again admires your absurdly large fully furnished penthouse.
“You even have a PS5..” he mumbles under his breath. Tugging tufts of thick black hair through his fingers trying to calculate just how small his shared apartment is in comparison.
“Oh yeah, a subscriber sent me that,” you wave off like it’s not big deal. Choosing the best shots to use for a new set only your top tier fans would be able to immediately view.
Jaemin can feel his heart drop down to his gut, nearly losing his footing. “You didn’t even have to pay for that?! There’s no way you can afford all of this from just doing Omega fans!”
Snickering, you wink at him, nodding to a stack of packages waiting to be delivered. “Of course not, merch is where the real money comes from.”
“Merch?? Wha—“
“Oh you know, worn underwear, bottles of slick, a mold of my pus—“
“WHAT?” Jaemin has to laugh, pushing hair completely away from his forehead as the skin wrinkles down the middle. In disbelief that Alphas could really be this desperate. As if his best friend isn’t one of the many dropping money every month just to ruin and discard another innocent tube sock.
“It’s a lucrative career, believe it or not.”
“Respectfully, like, ballpark..”
“$90-100k every month.” You inform him eagerly. “Already planned my early retirement.”
“A MONTH?” Jaemin sits back landing against one of the stools lined up by your kitchen island. Hearing those numbers made his head spin, shocked enough to wonder how Alphas could be this stupid. How his own best friend is one of them. “How much do your highest patreons get charged monthly?”
“Highest tier is $100, you catch more bears with honey.”
Jaemin’s eyes bulge, gripping onto the counter ledge, seething between his teeth. “Jeno.”
“Jeno?”
He grunts, gripping hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “My friend, he’s one of your subscribers.”
“Hmm..is he cute???” You ask, amused by the Alpha in front of you losing his professional composure.
“Uh,” Jaemin snaps, shaking his head, trying to calculate how much money his roommate has dropped on your website for the last two years. “God we could have a better A/C unit..”
Looking up at your lost stare, he shakes his head again, waving a hand and standing up. “Yeah, I guess he’s cute, for a freaking idiot.”
“Maybe you can bring him over next time.” You say, cocking a brow suggestively.
Jaemin pauses, reaching to pack up his camera bag. “Next time?”
“See,” moving closer, you take a hold of his wrist. “My fans, they have requests.. but it’s been hard to find attractive young Alphas I can trust.”
“What type of requests?” Jaemin sits back down, crossing his arms. The white short sleeve t-shirt he’s wearing struggles to contain his biceps. Growing stronger and thicker after hauling around heavy camera equipment everyday.
“I have a high roller, ironically a CEO of a well known heat suppressant company.” You start to explain, snorting at the job title. “He’s been begging for months to make this specific content during my heat.”
“Right, and what exactly is he asking for?”
“Just your run of the mill Alpha gangbang.” You say nonchalantly, making the Alpha sat before you splutter.
“What?!?”
“He’s offered to pay $100,000.” You nod. Jaemin has to gulp, head spinning again in disbelief that anyone could be that horny.
“That’s insane.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Sighing, Jaemin shrugs contemplating if anyone would pay for naked photos of him in obscene positions. “My roommate would probably film that with you for free.”
“I’d pay you, of course..” you say, tilting your head curiously to observe his next reaction. Met with a pair of wide shocked eyes, he babbles, laughing awkwardly.
“Me?!” Jaemin’s laugh grows in pitch, slowly losing volume the more he thinks about it. “..how much?”
“How much do you want? I’m willing to negotiate.”
“That’s..” he huffs, blinking in disbelief. “You’re joking right? Just messing around with me?”
“Not at all, Alpha,” with a sneaking grin, you click the camera next to him to turn on. Shifting closer once the red light brightens up, the lense moves around letting out sounds as it focuses on your figures. “We can start slow..”
Jaemin gulps, feeling the proximity between your lower regions grow sparse. Returning to grip onto the ledge of the island at his side where the camera sits capturing just enough of your lips and chests. Inching closer together as you straddle his lap and drape your arms over his broad shoulders.
He gulps to calm the tremor running through his throat, unused to an Omega making the first move. “Me? Y-you want to film content with me??”
“Depends,” you settle onto his lap with a smirk. Easing closer until your crotch presses directly where he’s began to grow. “How much?”
Jaemin shivers, choking on a trail of spit lodged at the back of his mouth. You had already paid him more than enough for some amateur photos taken around your place with little to no effort from himself.
But the prospect of thousands of dollars entering his bank account from only sleeping with a very attractive Omega is more than enough to entice him. Nodding, he mumbles a number without confidence. Reminding himself in the back of his mind that a few thousand dollars can’t be more than mere chump change to you.
“Sounds good.”
Jaemin grabs onto your hips when you agree to the amount. Canting upward to bounce you against the bulge pushing through the seam of his jeans.
Jeno was going to kill him.
Tumblr media
“Jeno?” Jaemin steps inside of his boiling hot apartment, kicking off his shoes to a pile with his roommates. The low brrr from his fan sounds, coming from the other Alphas bedroom. “He seriously better not have left that on, running up the damn electric bill as if we need that.”
Jaemin doesn’t expect to find his friend hunched over at his computer, headphones hanging on his neck with wide eyes blaring at the screen before him. “Oh, you’re home.”
“Traitor!” Jeno snaps, lunging up at his roommate, toppling over his gaming chair in the process.
“Jeno! What the fuck! Get off of me!” Jaemin scrambles, his grip slipping off the other Alphas soaked skin. He grunts, pressing his knee into the others firm abdominal muscles to keep him in place.
“You fucked my favorite Omega?!”
“Oh my god! She uploaded it already??” Jaemin’s speechless, caught off guard by the news momentarily enough to receive a slap across his face.
“I can’t believe you!”
“We didn’t fuck! Get off of me!”
“No!” Jeno slaps him again, tussling back and forth on the ground until Jaemin manages to get the upper hand and lock him in place with his bicep lodged against his neck.
“If you kill me, you’ll never get to meet her.”
Jeno’s head lifts, ears perking up like a puppy hearing a can of food begin to open. “What?!”
“Are you going to calm down now, pup?” Jaemin sneers, pushing off using the back of his hand to wipe away sweat that's pouring from his forehead.
Jeno groans, pushing to stand back up, he motions to the screen where a video showing the side of his roommate’s face has been paused. “How did this happen!”
“She hired me to photograph her.” Jaemin begins to explain, rubbing at his sweaty nape. “I don’t know, okay? But..”
His gaze skirts between Jeno and the screen. “Did you watch it already?”
“I was about to! Until I saw your fucking giant teeth show up, was like a nightmare. I had to stop the video before it could get any worse.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed. “Don’t be so dramatic. Could you play it? I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I probably look so stupid..”
Jeno clicks his tongue annoyed, setting his chair back into place to get comfortable. “Unfortunately you don’t. Your dick looks huge too.”
Jaemin smirks, flicking the shell of Jeno’s ear. “Thought you didn’t watch it, liar.”
“I can’t believe this!” Jeno exclaims, clicking the video to play again.
“We didn’t even fuck.” Jaemin leans closer with elbows on his knees. “Honestly it felt so fast, I can’t believe I did that.”
Jeno continues to badger his friend with questions, ripping at his hair as the video goes on. The last thing he expected to see was a familiar face when he got the notification of a new upload featuring your Alpha neighbor assisting you through your pre-heat.
“God, she’s so hot.” Jeno groans, slamming the back of his head against the cushion, one of his hands sneaking beneath the waistband of his shorts out of Jaemin’s line of sight. Too caught up in the video playing to even notice.
It should feel weird to watch himself, to watch you touching him. To see the nervous way his throat bobs up and down the closer you lean in, bumping the tip of his nose with yours as you whisper too quietly for him to not feel nervous.
‘The Alpha next door stopped by,’ you announce for the viewers, toying with Jaemin’s shirt off screen.
“Pft..” Jeno huffs under his breath, squinting at the way you bat your eyelashes toward Jaemin. Flirting with him by giggling, tapping your nails against his jaw on the way to pinch his chin. Falling into a syrupy pretty octave the more you taunt him by repeating ‘Alpha Alpha Alpha’.
Should’ve been me, he thinks, thumbing at the precum that’s filled up his slit.
Jaemin’s undeserving, he doesn’t even know what you want, how you like it. Jeno eyes the kitchen counter, imagining how fast he would have bent you over, tugging on his length eagerly. The gasp you let out as you grind down on Jaemin repeats loudly in his thoughts.
Jaemin’s squirming, ashamed by how stunned he appears on video, too wanton and helpless for an Alpha who should have been taking more control. He let you play with him like a toy, rolling your hips back onto his lap to gain a full erection prodding into your backside.
‘So big Alpha.’
“Can’t believe she fucked you.”
Jaemin clears his throat, swiping his palm across the puffy bulge forming between his thighs. “We didn’t, yet..”
“You won’t.” Jeno says more brazenly, teeth slicing his bottom lip in an attempt to control his rage from toppling over. “You know how much I like her.”
“You and hundreds of thousands of other Alphas.”
“Whatever. Can’t fucking believe this.” Jeno groans, letting out a long dramatic sigh. “My dicks getting soft from watching this, I don’t think I can forgive you for this one.”
Jaemin rolls his eyes, letting out a sound of disgust when his friend wipes off his palm on his thigh. “You’re gonna wanna hear me out, and also owe me for this.”
“I doubt it.”
“She asked about you.”
Jeno’s head snaps to attention at that, just in time to miss Jaemin’s grunts passing from his computer speakers. “What??”
“I mentioned that you’re a fan.” Jaemin cringes at the visual of himself on a big screen reaching climax. His face rolling side to side on your shoulder, panting like some teenager experiencing their first rut. The blush on his cheeks high, making its way up to his earlobes burning red. Cumming without penetration like some horny pup, the number of viewers over 60,000 already after only an hour up.
“And?!?”
Jeno’s excited bounce snaps him out of his humility— reminding him that his roommate would have paid for an opportunity like this.
“She asked if any of my friends would be interested.”
“Oh my God!!” Jeno stands up, jumping in place as if he just received the best news ever— in his case, he probably just did. “Oh my God! No! You don’t understand!!”
The dark haired Alpha begins to pace, gathering tufts of hair with blown out pupils. “I’ve dreamt about this for so long! I did this! This is happening because of me!”
Jaemin sports a bored look, listening to his roommate ramble on about how he always knew he’d end up fucking you, he just didn’t know how or when, until now.
“That’s great dude, I guess. I’ll text her, but please do not mention that you’ll be more than happy to do this for free. We need the mo—“
Knocks boom from the entrance distracting the two from continuing their conversation.
“Hey! Open up! This tub of ice is heavy!”
“It’s Haechan.” Jeno announces, unlocking the front door to the miserable expressions his neighbors dawn. “Sup?”
“Let us use your fan? We offer bags of ice.”
They end up huddled seated on the floor complaining about how badly they all need to figure out how to either make more money, or move out.
“Maybe the four of us could split a mortgage for a house.” Renjun mewls over rubbing his chin. “A house with central air ideally.”
Jaemin eyes the three Alphas surrounding him, a melancholic desperation to enjoy their short days of summer left drags their lips down, frowns paired with desperation to do anything to better their situations.
It’s almost too perfect.
Jeno’s hunched over, sharp eyebrows never loosening up, licking at the corners of his mouth annoyed.
“Can you believe while we were sitting swamp ass in misery— Jaemin was fucking my favorite cam girl?!” Jeno blurts out before his roommate can recall the actual events that took place.
“We didn’t do anything like that, but..” Jaemin takes in his friends intrigued stares, nervously mumbling. “She’s looking for Alphas..”
Renjun’s brows twist, inching closer with interest. “For what?”
“To film content.”
Haechan pours another bag of ice into the bucket they’ve plotted before a fan, huddled together too close for comfort, occasionally brushing sticky skin against sticky skin. The cool breeze only enough to prevent them from overheating while still secreting sweat as they hold up personal fans to their faces and suck on half-melted Icee slushies.
“Content?” He raises a messy eyebrow, speaking into the spinning fan to alter his voice. “Doesn’t she do porn?”
“Jeno’s a big fan, must be good.” Renjun adds.
“Jeno is a horny dog,” Jaemin scoffs, ignoring the upset gasp his best friend releases. “I mean, I understand why he pays.”
“I pay and somehow you are the one getting a handjob..” Jeno mutters, more than annoyed still. Despite his anger, he still watched the video you posted with Jaemin a few more times. “She only fucks Alphas with notoriously big dicks. Should have been me.”
“Mine’s bigger than yours anyway.” Jaemin laughs, licking away sweat from his upper lip. “Listen, I know you guys are all as strapped for cash as I am.”
“Cash? Oh, I’m listening.” Haechan interrupts, tugging on the ring of his collar that’s dampened nastily with sweat.
“When you say notoriously big..” Renjun drawls, leaning back against a wall, pushing his hand-held fan beneath his shirt. “How big is big?”
“Bigger than you shrimp shit.” Jeno jeers, clicking his tongue arrogantly. “I seriously need to quit this college shit, I could make bank doing Alpha fans.”
Renjun rolls his eyes, too drained by the heat to put up a fight. “You’re a baboon.”
“Whatever.” Jeno ignores his name calling with a dreamy look in his eyes. “The first time I stumbled into one of her streams, she was testing out how fat of a knot she could take.”
Haechan’s head lifts suddenly more intrigued by this topic. “…..well?”
“I’ve never seen an Omega take a knot like her, ever.” He confirms, boasting about how your streams are always at the top of the Omega fans charts. “The coins never stop pouring in when she goes live. She’s always in the top 0.1% on Omega fans, I like to think my monthly subscription helps.”
“This is bullshit.” Jaemin cuts him off. “Look, I made enough in two days to cover 3 months of rent. If we help her out I think.. we could leave this shithole complex. I’m tired of these excuses for why maintenance can’t fix our ancient A/C units.”
“I’d do it for free.” Jeno says, earning a smack to the back of his head from Renjun.
“That’s why you are a baboon.”
“I’m in.” Haechan nods. “I can’t survive another summer like this, I can’t even do another week of this.”
“I mean..” Renjun grimaces. “Like, full nude? My whole dick out?”
Jaemin snaps his fingers for Jeno to whip out his phone, the four proceeding to watch the clip you made with the Alpha as their jaws hang to the floor.
“Oh, I’m so in.”
Tumblr media
Jeno’s been running around like a puppy full of life, hopping into the air kicking his feet together letting out high pitched squeals.
“I even shaved my sack for this!” He exclaims, gripping onto Jaemin’s shoulders on their trek out of the subway station.
“Were we supposed to do that?” Haechan asks, taking a look at his worn down raggedy clothing. “I thought the idea was supposed to be.. we’re broke college guys.”
“That is the idea.” Jaemin answers, directing his group of friends into an upscale neighborhood decorated with lively tall trees and blooming gardens. “It’s all an act, we’re supposed to be her ‘neighbors’…and she’s this innocent sweet Omega who we take advantage of during her heat.”
Haechan bites back a smile nudging into his side, thoughts running rampant. “That’s hot.”
“No fucking way, is this seriously where she lives?” Renjun’s neck practically breaks from leaning back to take in the giant building towering before them.
“Yup, high-rise penthouse overlooking Seoul. The lifestyle horny idiot Alphas provide.” Jaemin glares at Jeno who beams with the brightest smile engulfing his eyes.
“She deserves all of it, and more.” Letting out a dreamy sigh he follows along to where Jaemin has to check-in at the front concierge to be allowed further inside. The four confirming their identification before passing along to the elevators.
“This is insane, I couldn’t even sleep last night, and when I can’t sleep, I jerk off!” Jeno complains in the lift. “But I didn’t want to waste— you know! So I ended up tossing and turning all night.”
“You’re worse than those kpop fans that follow around idols and trainees.” Renjun accuses, feeling jittery still about stripping down to nothing to hook-up with a stranger for thousands of viewers, maybe even millions. “This is my lowest low, and you’re about to cum in your pants.”
“I think you lowest low was popping your first knot in Science class when we learned about Omega anatomy.” Haechan grins. “You can’t live that down.”
“Shut up!” Renjun whines, the elevator dinging to upon reaching your floor. The three Alphas stare at the opened doors, gulping in unison before Jaemin signals for them to follow his lead.
“I would say don’t be nervous but,” he shakes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m fucking nervous right now.”
“Dude! You can’t be nervous! What about us?!” Haechan bemoans, gesturing to the three hiding behind the blond Alphas broad frame.
“Think about the money.” Renjun nods, reapplying chapstick to his lips that can’t seem to retain enough moisture. “This hallway alone has more square footing than our apartments combined.”
“Think about the pus—!” Jeno starts to holler, stopping in his tracks as the front door they stand before opens up revealing a face that’s become deeply ingrained in his mind. “Holy shit.”
Jaemin’s eyes shut, smiling and lifting a hand to greet you, internally cursing. “That would be your loyal subscriber.”
“Wow,” leaning against the door frame, you take in the new faces in front of you. The three sporting similar expressions with their jaws hung loose, wide-eyed and breathless. “You didn’t mention that they’re all so cute.”
Jaemin grins, motioning to his friends. “This is Haechan, Renjun, and Jeno, or as you know us, miserable sweaty Alphas willing to do a lot for money.”
“How much is a lot?” You ask slyly, purposely dressed down with a pair of loose sweats on and a loose top to play up a relaxed stay-at-home look for the filming.
“I’ll do anything!” Jeno blurts, slapping a palm over his mouth. “I mean.. my limits are very low.”
“Funds too.” Renjun whispers.
“Understood.” Standing straight, you hold up an index finger. “There is one thing, my funders have a common request. Come on in and we’ll see if you guys fit the criteria.”
The criteria: no one under 9 inches.
Haechan’s throat bobs reading over the contract you’ve printed four copies of. Rubbing his nape that feels cold from sitting in a room with blowing cool air. “I have to admit, I’ve never measured..”
“I have!” Jeno licks at his canines cockily, biting off the cap of a pen to spit off to the side. “11 inches long, and thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.”
“Wait wait!” You laugh, pulling out your phone to speed-dial your highest roller. “Need you guys to show me what you’re working with before we can sign off.”
Renjun’s eyes round, sticking halfway out of their sockets. “Like, right now??”
“Now or never.” Pointing the camera to face them, you nod for them to go on.
Jeno’s the first to jump to his feet, already half mass confined in a well fitted pair of black sweats. “I have nothing to lie about.”
True to his word, he pushes his boxers and sweats beneath his upper thigh in one fell swoop. His length falls free slapping onto the cotton fabric underneath , jerking mid-air, the fat pink tip darkening the longer he sits and waits to live out his wildest dreams.
“Very good.” A low deep voice emits from your phone’s speaker. “Bigger than the blond even.”
Jaemin’s head snaps up at that, squinting while sneaking a look to his side with an annoyed pout. “That’s not true!”
“The other two.” Says the voice, clearly coming from a male.
Haechan shares a pleading look with Renjun, moving to stand, waiting for the other to do the same. Huffing out a deep sigh, he hoists himself up sluggishly, tugging on the strings dangling in front of his groin.
“Well..” Haechan shrugs, smiling timidly as he unzips and draws himself out with a stroke at his soft size “I’m a grower..”
Renjun’s cheeks puff out, repeating money money money in his mind as he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his length free.
“They can stay. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself too much.” The Alpha hiding on your phone screen chuckles. “Can’t wait to see what they do with you.”
Hanging up after hearing the approval, you hide a smile behind your hand taking in Renjun up and down. “Cute.”
“Did you just call my dick cute?!” He squawks, frazzled as he tucks himself away.
“You are really cute!” Haechan intervenes, throwing an arm around his roommate's shoulders, whispering ‘money’ with a pointed glare.
“The idea is that I’m in pre-heat,” you motion carelessly, beginning to stretch your limbs where you’re seated. “That’s the idea, but I actually am in pre-heat, so it works out great.”
“Oh, that’s..” Jaemin collects the signed contracts, gnawing on his upper lip. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Shrugging, you wave him off. “Don’t worry about it, I might get a little..”
Jeno’s practically salivating the more you continue to talk, all too familiar with how crazed and desperate for Alpha cock you get during your heats. His fingertips burn from rubbing up and down his thighs like a maniac, slurping at the drool gathering at the sides of his tongue. An overwhelming sensation of dizziness and lust replaces any semblance of sense as he sits across from you.
“Jeno?” Jaemin snaps his fingers, breaking the Alpha from his mesmerized trance. “Come on.”
“What??”
“I have to start setting up, were you not listening?”
“Uhh..” Jeno looks lost, flushed from the tip of his nose down to his pink chewed lips, causing Jaemin to grunt and grab on to the other to drag him out of the room.
“She’s gonna start with Haechan and Renjun first.” He reiterates, smiling to himself. “Because they’re smaller.”
Renjun fumed when you felt the need to mention that, pinching at Haechan’s forearm to control his temper. Humiliation that thousands of strangers would be watching him bare ass already had him regretting agreeing to this, now even more with you mocking his size for not being big enough.
“Should we step out then?” Haechan gestures toward the entrance, smoothing out the wrinkles on his t-shirt nervously. Everything becoming much more real now that he’s seconds away from hooking up with a stranger— not that this would be his first time, but on camera suddenly made things feel much more high-stress and real.
“Yeah, why don’t you guys show up saying your air conditioners not working.” You suggest, turning on the various cameras you have around your apartment for weekly live streams. “Don’t worry about acting really, it’s not that serious.”
Renjun follows after his friend, shifting about anxiously, muttering that he can’t stop the tremors running through his hands.
“We have sex all the time.” Haechan says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Okay, we have had sex. Maybe not a lot. Don’t think too hard, she’s an attractive Omega close to her heat, and I’m here..”
Renjun nods, rapping his knuckles against the door with a deep shaky breath.
“Hey?” You answer, ruffling your hair with a groggy look as if you’ve just woken up.
“Oh! Hey!” Haechan utters, waving awkwardly. “Hope we didn’t wake you! Our air stopped working a bit ago.”
“That’s terrible, it’s so hot out.” You groan, faking a yawn, tugging on the collar of your t-shirt to play up how hot you feel even inside of your chilly quarters. Renjun observes how well you fall into the ditzy cute innocent Omega you must portray on camera for your fans, pouting and whining at the end of each word like a petulant little brat.
“You think we can crash with you while the maintenance team works on it?” Renjun cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leans against your door frame.
“Ah, it’s kind of..” words stumble out alternating between whiny sounds as you attempt to think up an excuse. “I—….okay..”
Spinning on your heel, you offer them something to drink as they situate in your living room, seated on the couch they’d filled out their contracts at. “Thanks!” Haechan calls out, picking up a remote to scroll through the TV guide for something to watch.
Renjun glances back and forth suspiciously, his nose twitching, falling into character with more ease than he’d envisioned to be able to. “Hey, is it just me or she..”
“Oh, she definitely is.” Haechan says confidently, setting an arm behind his head with a grin pinching at his lips. “Why else do you think she hesitated to let us come in?”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
The two share a sneaking look, settling at opposite ends of the couch to leave you with no choice but to sit between them when you show up with a tray of beverages.
“Oh..”
Neither seem interested in your presence, both lazily sprawled against the arm rests with their focus on the tv.
“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Haechan asks, throwing the remote aside. “Nothing to watch.”
“You guys can play..” you sigh, eyeing the small space you’ve been left with to sit between the two Alphas. Stuffy and cramped as you adjust to seat without trying to touch either of them.
“Nah, Renjun’s a sore loser. He complains way too much because I always win.” Haechan mumbles, holding one of the controllers out for you. “I’m sure you’ll be good.”
“What if I lose?”
The browns coloring Haechan’s iris gleam, speckled by different shades of orange and gold, inching closer until his lips sit centimeters away from yours. “If you lose..”
Renjun licks at his lips behind you, trailing his eyes down your back, becoming curious as to what you have hiding beneath the oversized t-shirt you probably slept in.
Haechan straightens up, blowing out a breath across your mouth. “..if you lose—you’ll sit on my lap the next round.”
“Next round?”
“Yeah,” he leans back, falling into a confident demeanor as he chooses to play as Yoshi. “Winner takes all.”
Princess Peach failed to even end up in the top 5 after the amount of times you swerved and smacked into the race track walls. The two Alphas at your sides hiding their and amused laughter with coughs the more you struggled and grew frustrated, wanting to hurdle the controller at a wall.
Haechan doesn’t say anything as music signals for the next round, spreading open his thighs to make room for you, he nods toward his lap with a silent command.
“I don’t think I can play again.” You say, feigning exhaustion by slumping back into the couch.
Renjun leans over, pinching your chin between two fingers to force your gaze up. “That’s not really fair is it, princess?”
A lazy hand lands around his wrist, pulling his fingers down lower to land on your throat. “I’m too hot.. can’t focus..”
“Come on princess, you know the rules here. You agreed to play, now you have to follow through.”
Haechan’s nose finds the column of your throat, gripping onto your waist to pull you onto his lap. “Stupid Omega letting the big bad wolves inside when her heats about to start.”
“No— no, Haechan, don’t..”
“Shh, you knew what you were doing.” Renjun squeezes your throat, shaking your neck with a tight hold. “Dripping right through your underwear as if we couldn’t smell you from down the hall. Don’t play dumb now, Omega.”
“I c-can’t..”
“Why are you lying, huh?” Haechan asks, pushing your ass down against his crotch. “Besides, when did I ask?”
“Don’t lie pretty, the more you lie, the more this will hurt.” Renjun catches your bottom lip just as Haechan slips his fingers past the top of your sweats, lowering slowly to cup your heat, letting out a grunt on your shoulder when he’s met with slick spilling out past the seat of your panties. Inner thighs coated with a mess of sweet delicious wetness dripping out of your hole like a broken faucet.
“No—no, not there, please..” Your pleading only makes them laugh, Renjun letting out a bitter chuckle as he releases his hardening shaft. Stroking up and down right before your face to give you a clear view of how thick and long he sits at full mass.
“So cute, right?” He taunts, shifting onto his knees on the couch to set his hips near your face. “Little brats like you think you can always get your way.”
Haechan slips in past your underwear, quietly cursing into your nape at the amount of slick dribbling between his digits. In disbelief that you’re this wet already, that they haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re drenching his crotch through your sweats.
“That little act you put on crumbles the second you see Alphas cock baby.” Renjun’s fingers trail up from your throat to your chin, thumb latching onto your bottom lip to pull it down. Drool gathers at the corners, trickling it’s way out down to your jaw to meet his digits that press harder. “Tell Alphas what you need, don’t fucking lie.”
“Renjun, pl-please, don’t be mean.” You gurgle, lapping at his thumb shoving your lip back and forth.
He grins, pushing the pad of his thumb down until you give and let him in, resting against your tongue heavily until you let out a gagging sound and wrap your lips around him.
“All that useless begging, look at you right now.” He sneers, pushing three more fingers into your mouth with ease. “Just like that, so obedient and cute.”
Haechan’s panting, working his hips up in circles against your damp bottom. Relentless with his digits rubbing in a blur over your clit. Nipping and sucking on your throat to quill some of his arousal that shouts throughout his head to rip off your sweats and plant you on his length until you cry out, begging to get fucked.
“Renjun,” coughing around his fingers working in and out of your mouth, you gag again, copious amounts of drool fountaining out around his hand down to your collarbone. “Please.”
“Please what? Use your words.”
Renjun loves it, loves how easy it was to shut you up, make you grovel for his cute cock. Pleading to do anything to you, to make you feel good.
“Something, please please Alpha.”
“This what you want?” Teasing at his slit, he eyes you curiously, wrapping around the base of his length to stroke himself to full hardness. Chubbing up impressively, definitely not as cute as you’d perceived.
He teases the tip along your upper lip, layering a coat of thick precum there to blend with drool. “Show me what that pretty bratty mouth can do.”
He felt even bigger against your tongue, finally breeching past your lips after pulling back teasingly with each flick of your tongue at his slit. The playfulness rapidly diminished as he buried forward, suffocating your nose with the smooth skin beneath his navel.
Sucking and gagging became inevitable around the Alphas size stretching your lips open painfully. Letting out loud groans above you with each ragged breath blown through your nose against his skin, each sloppy slurp around his size. Vibrating out moans between struggling to breathe when Haechan’s fingers sank lower, tapping at your entrance with extra force as he pushed the elastic in your underwear to the limits to get three of his digits inside of you.
The tip of Renjun’s length brutally punching the back of your throat only spurred more wetness out, gliding Haechan’s fingers to bury deeper. Growling as he nipped at your earlobe about how nasty you are, getting turned on by sucking cock like a whore.
“Only real sluts get wet from sucking dick, you know what that makes you baby?”
Licking up the bottom of Renjun’s length, you nod, enjoying how he weighed down on your tongue. Lips swollen from each pointed movement further pushing your mouth to open wide and take his entire size, tearing up and coughing all the more even as you tried to slow him down. Hands uselessly flying to grip onto his thighs and plead with wide begging eyes for the Alpha to slow and let you breathe.
“Aww, not so cute anymore?“ he grins, pushing your hair back grabbing fistfuls with a tight lock of his fingers; commanding control by pushing you further down his shaft to take it all.
Renjun never gave your mouth a break, thrusting his hips forward with vigor to fill your throat over and over. Biting down to calm pleasured groans from exiting, not wanting you to know how much he was enjoying this. You needed to earn it.
“That’s it, that’s how slutty Omegas suck cock.” Haechan praised, licking at your earlobe. Thumb swiping your clit in rapid motion as his fingers continued to pump inside you. “Cum around my fingers, let me feel you squeeze up. Cumming from taking Alphas dick down your throat. You know who cums from that baby? Bratty little Omega whores.”
“Ah, fuck,” Renjun’s tough facade snapped, breaking into pieces when your eyes rolled back the more Haechan stroked between your walls. Hips stuttering to a halt as his upper lip trembles over his teeth letting out breathy whimpers. “G-gonna cum, ugh fuck.”
A few more weak thrusts had hot release pouring down your throat. Shots of hot cum hitting your tonsils as your thighs clenched up, jutting back against Haechan with your hands reaching to clutch his wrist, squirming and crying around Renjun’s length as your own release hit. Punching from your gut to your throat, convulsing in time with each other dragging out a long orgasm from Renjun, collapsing down to his knees leaving cum to trickle out onto your chin.
“Fuck.”
Haechan’s sucking his fingers clean, licking between each to not miss any bit of your sloppy release, his free hand working to pull off your ruined bottoms with Renjun stripping your top off. Breath knocked from their lungs upon seeing your bared skin, obscenely wet down to your knees, hazily staring at them standing above you as you try to recuperate.
Haechan’s tongue drags across his palm, gaze lit up by the fear passing over your face the longer they stand there observing you. He’s the first to move, bending over by his waist to get in your face, whispering out hotly. “Now, tell me something.”
A ruthless grip captures your mound as he distracts you, digging the heel of his palm against your tender clit. “What type of useless Omega are you? Haven’t made me cum once.”
“B-but, you said..”
Two fingers roughly crook inside inside, gliding in despite how swollen your folds have become, filled with blood pumping down between your thighs. Throbbing loud enough you swear you can hear it, emptying the parts of your brain that help you function, giving into the heat with each press he buries deeply, curling his fingers up until your back arches. Crooning between a shattered moan.
“I said?” His pretty soft eyes widen, precious like a stuffed plushie you’d cuddle through the night. Actions speaking louder than the false image he uses to taunt you more with. “What did I say? Huh? Suddenly you listen?”
“I listen!” You end up shouting, too shook up by the stinging smack landing on your inner thigh. Digits ripping free from your core, oozing out tendrils of thick slick obscenely.
“What do you think, Renjun?”
Renjun’s face gives off more purity than Haechan’s, the smile teasing at his lips so sweet and soft. Irises gleaming angrily, sleek and cold. The two of them quietly preparing to destroy you. “I think she hasn’t done shit to prove why we should fuck her again.”
“Is that right Omega?” Haechan rips your head back, spouting a line of spit inside of your parted lips, he smacks at your jaw, dragging you to move by pulling at your scalp. “Say it.”
“Wanna make you cum Alpha, wanna be good for you.”
Renjun’s throat lodges a bit from the needy way you stare between them, letting Haechan’s spit rest on your tongue, pushing it out through pursed lips. Sweat dampened hair, big wet eyes, bloated spit coated lips, and slick pouring from your hole in globs, absolutely pornographic. He considers— if he had the money, he’d pay for your content too.
“Good,” Renjun voices, sitting down to move you onto his lap. Shedding his clothes off while Haechan played with you, his cock pressed to your lower back, fully hard again. “Because I’m gonna knot your pretty little pussy.”
Suddenly he’s pulling you back onto his cock with one smooth glide. Scrambling to position yourself with feet scurrying to perch on his thighs. The sound that emits when he shoves in absolutely filthy— disgusting, choking a moan from between your lungs as you head tosses back again.
“What makes you think you deserve to cum again?” Renjun bites at the shell of your ear, thrusting up sloppily from the amount of slick pouring onto his thighs. Slapping the sides of yours until your legs completely bend, steadily planting your feet above his knees to prop you open for the other Alpha.
“I’ve been good!” You cry out, repeating a chant of ‘please please please’ like a prayer, head flopping back onto his shoulder harder when Haechan crawls forward on his knees spitting at your clit. Tongue smearing the mess lower, meeting with Renjun’s length stretching you open. Tongue curling around your clit as two fingers find way to your entrance, gathering the wetness spilling out around the other Alphas cock.
“Please!” Renjun grunts, hips slapping against your bottom, digging his nails into the backs of your knees. Straining to fuck you faster, groaning louder each time Haechan’s tongue laps slick off his length.
“You—haven’t earned it yet.” He grits, breathlessly cursing.
“Please! Let me—Alpha, please!” Eyes roll to the back of your head, shouting out, clenching your toes. “Ahh! Ah—ahh fuck!”
Haechan shoves three fingers inside of you as Renjun thrusts out, pushing in through the free space to prod at your insides. The slide of cock against his long calloused fingers setting off a stinging pain to your chest.
“So fucking tight.” The Alpha on his knees says proudly, working to match Renjun’s thrust. Not even bothering to give you time to adjust, he sets a snapping pace pummeling a path inside immediately. “Don’t think she should get to cum until she can take us both.”
“Hear that baby?” Renjun breathes, delivering a pointed thrust to emphasize what Haechan said, pistoning with more ferocity and anger. The tip of his cock catching on your painfully stretched entrance with each pull out. “Begged to get fucked like a slut, that’s what you think you deserve?”
Between Haechan’s warm breath blowing on your clit and Renjun’s unforgiving movements, endless pleads begging to cum spill from your tongue. The Alpha inside of you chasing after his climax faster while bouncing you up and down, fingers jamming in and out, cock lodged deep inside, tongue flicking your clit over and over again.
“Alpha! Please—please cum!”
“Where?” Renjun huffs, thrusting harder, blinking sweat away from his eyelashes. “Ask for it!”
He slaps at your thighs, beating the skin with wicked stings. Cracking dry whimpers from your throat as Haechan’s lips suck around your clit. “I-Inside! Please! Inside!”
Renjun’s throat locks up, chest heaving and squeezing tight making it harder to breathe, pushing deep past where Haechan’s fingers can reach inside of you. Struggling to keep up his speed as the base of his size expands, pushing through with teeth gritted, hips not slowing for even a second despite the new resistance gripping him. Cum bursts, spilling down around his length from the extra stretch inside of you, flowing down to the other Alpha’s wrist who licks it up, suckling up the nasty mess of slick and cum.
“A-alpha..please let me cum, please.” Desperation has you near the brink of insanity. Body full blown trembling in the weakened hold on your thighs.
Haechan smirks, tucking his fingers inside his mouth, pushing up with his free hand to spit the combined release on your chin and chest. “You really think you deserve to cum already? What about me?”
Haechan’s pushing one of your thighs up higher before you can even register what’s happening, weakened and overstimulated from being edged for too long. The tip of his length prods at your filled entrance, dragging over your swollen clit, dropping his forehead to yours as he begins to push in past the tight squeeze he’s met with.
The cries and whimpers you let out only encourage him, pressing in more as he holds his breath, sucking in his nostrils to restrain the need to cum. Making Renjun let out a pitiful grunt against your shoulder when he slides against the other Alphas size. Knot full grown making his brain spin from the stimulation rubbing against him.
“So fucking dirty.” Haechan says, shoulders tensed from trying to contain himself. Throbbing against the deathlock your walls wrap around him as he meets obstruction, blending with Renjun’s length beneath. “Fuck, so fucking dirty and messy.”
The ache burns painfully, worse than before, stinging the backs of your eyes with moisture that pushes out at the first thrust he gives. Gliding in and out of you easily with Renjun’s cum leaking down between his thighs. Haechan buries his size inside of you with pointed thrusts, doing it with extra force just to watch the tears pour from your eyes faster, just to hear your cries grow louder, pour from the walls like music reverberating out of speakers.
“Made to get fucked.” He mutters, licking at sweat and tears dangling from the tip of your nose. “Made to take Alpha cock like this, take it like a good Omega. Offering your holes to any Alpha, desperate for a fat knot, so fucking greedy you need two.”
“Hae-haechan—“ it’s barely a whisper, croaking from the back of your throat. Bounced down onto Renjun’s knot, getting hard again enough to compose himself and match up to Haechan’s pace even when it hurts him. Too lust ridden to stop himself when your ass bounces against his stomach. Firm strokes filling you up, rubbing against each other incessantly.
“Fuck, gonna cum.” He pants against your lips, tongue laving out like a hungry dog. Biting and sucking on whatever he can catch, leaving your mouth more swollen and bruised. “Make Alpha cum baby, wanna feel that pussy squeeze up again.”
Guiding a hand between your bodies, he thumbs at your over-sensitive clit again, sending shock waves of pleasure up your spine. Head jerked back onto Renjun’s shoulder, blabbering between your cries as you finally clenched around the two; orgasm barreling out of you sending a wave of electric shock up to your brain. The scream you let out echoing off the walls, permeating obscene wet squelches paired with the Alphas noisy grunts.
“A-ahh—��� Haechan’s head drops, knot ripping out around his base with one more thrust, locking him into place unable to move anymore as his cock weeps. Cum pouring out of him fiercely, endlessly streaming out. Only able to stay inside from the knots battling to keep you plugged up.
Renjun’s hips jump up just once, grinding upward letting out another release between a strangled groan that barely exits his lips.
“N-no no more, noo..” you hiccup, sobbing into the crook of Haechan’s neck. The ache in your legs gone numb from the overwhelming heat filling your gut, splayed out like a broken doll between the Alphas. Panting like animals stuck in humid heat that won’t allow you to catch your breath.
“Good Omega.” Haechan pecks wherever his mouth can reach, nudging his nose against your eyelid. “God, you’re so good.”
Renjun lets out a muffled sound agreeing, blowing hot air along the back of your shoulder.
“Thanks for..” Haechan grins, lip curling up wickedly. “Letting us come over.”
He’s not sure if he should kiss you, blinking up making direct eye contact with one of the various streaming cameras— he remembers that this isn’t live, opting to gently peck the tip of your nose. “You okay?”
“Mhm..” your eyes can’t seem to stay in place, as if the sockets have lost control of power, rolling back still too high off your climax. “Thank you Alphas.”
Tumblr media
“Hey?” Jeno pokes into your bedroom, subtly ducking his chin in to hide the thrill painting his features upon seeing your set-up. Swallowing down a raspy cough, he glances around, smirking at the visual of your pink bedding. The room he’s dreamt of for months, weeks, days, restless nights awake stroking his cock to made-up fantasies of turning you around into multiple positions on this bed.
He’s calm, mostly, stealing looks around for where various cameras have been placed to capture different angles of what’s about to go down.
“Jeno?”
Your voice shivers up his spine, flaring his nostrils as he lets the scent of rose petals in your body wash lingering on your flesh circle around him. The prominent aroma of heat hits stronger than any amount of scrub and bubbles you used to cleanse your skin of Renjun and Haechan’s cum.
Honey.. sweet dripping honeycombs..
Jeno has to stop himself from sucking down a deep breath of slick gathering between your thighs. Muscles strain beneath the sweat soaked cotton material of his shirt, twitching while he tries to keep collected, turning to face you with an easy smile. “Jaemin sent me in to see if you’re ready for the photoshoot.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming too?”
Jeno shrugs, explaining his sweaty appearance by telling you the story of their broken air conditioner while you sort through a rack of scantily clad garments hung on silk hangers. He thinks it’s fitting, everything in your bedroom screams feminine, delicate and pretty, only adding more ideas in his mind of different ways he’d love to rip off your designer lingerie. His monthly fee had to contribute to your closet somehow.
“Everyone’s air conditioner’s breaking from these heatwave’s..” you mumble, shyly gripping tighter onto the towel wrapped around you.
“Do you feel uncomfortable with me being here?” Jeno questions, proceeding to carry on conversation as if red lights from the cameras couldn’t bother him in the least.
“A little,” you say, sparing him a coy look over your shoulder with a small wink. “Jaemin told me that you’re one of my subscribers. Maybe you can help me choose what to wear?”
Jeno’s mouth hangs open comically following your towel slipping off, immediately hit with a potent waft of your scent. He has to tighten his fist as his sides to stop from lunging at your bare backside. Stepping closer with thinning eyes to stand behind you, he digs at your shoulder with the tip of his nose. Hands finding the back of your waist to tickle at with light grazes.
“Why would you put something on?” He glowers, quietly speaking. “You think I won’t just rip it off of you?”
“Alpha, what are y-you..” Jeno’s instincts take over, already forgetting he’s here technically to work.
“I’ve been subscribed to you for a really long time.” He whispers for you, hoping the microphones Jaemin set up can’t pick up on his low rumble. “Is that weird?”
Jeno’s cute— kind of in the same way Renjun’s dick is cute, but even cuter. The calmest he’s been since arriving with the others just now, pheromones similar to an Alpha pup entering their first rut, even that aspect melted your chest, having to bite your tongue from over-complimenting the Alpha in the moment to keep the act going.
“Do you know how many of my subscribers wish they could fuck me?”
Jeno splutters, pinching his fingers into where your waist dips, bottom lip jutting out as he shakes his head.
“Every single one of them. Don’t let them down.. Alpha.”
He’s been waiting so long for this, even had to wait while his friends fucked you first. Chewing at his nails nervously while he sat out on the balcony with Jaemin, he thought about it, remembering each time you’d notice his messages in the chat and responded with a devilish smile.
“None of them have ever wanted you as much as me.” Jeno steps closer, positioning your chest against the wall with his hips circling against your backside holding you in place with one palm flattened on the curve in your spine. “None of them will ever fuck you the way I’m about to.”
“Alpha..” you say it in such a gentle tone, lowering down to the coquettish gamer girl voice that always makes payments drop into your account faster. Tongue hanging out for Jeno’s eyes to track, following the little wiggle you give before he snaps, darting forward to trap you between his lips.
It’s not a slow kiss, lacking rush as he savors tasting you for the first time. Just as sweet and tantalizing as he always imagined, better even; cherry flavored jolly rancher that he wishes could permanently stain his tongue with remnants of its flavor.
The Alphas strong build melts heavily against your back, trailing bony long fingers between your lower halves to tug himself free.
“F-fuck.” You gasp, planting your forehead against the wall, losing the hold around your tongue. Lips returning to an abused swollen state from the heated kiss.
“I know how you like it.” Jeno whispers, licking up your jawline to your earlobe, nipping as he slaps his length between the crevice of your ass. “I know how you love it.”
His shaft feels weighty on your bottom, slapping down landing with obscenely loud smacks the cameras could pick up on even without microphones. “How’s your pussy gonna take all this dick baby?”
Jeno already has your eyes rolling up, from the gravely rasp in his tone to his sheer mass pressing heavy on your body, forcing your nipples to scratch against the wall sending shrill sensations down to the gushing space between your thighs. “Thought you were a fan..”
“Oh I am.” Jeno clicks his tongue, kissing at the backs of his teeth. Bending at his knees to swipe between your buttcheeks. “Gonna fuck every part of you.”
He pushes between your thighs to emphasize, grunting like a beast against your nape. Excitement from before spiraling into the pure need to fuck and breed, fill you with pups before any other Alpha can.
Even between your thighs Jeno feels too thick, forcing your knees to bump into each other with each splitting thrust he gives. Pushing at his sweats haphazardly to relieve his balls of the heat swarming his skin, his Alpha taking over chanting to mate mate mate. Each slap of his hips screams against your backside, resounding an aggressive clap throughout your bedroom.
Jeno can hardly believe your slicks staining his sweats, leaking out for him, pussy folds draping around his size pleading to be filled. “My Omega, gonna be dreaming about my cock after this. On your knees for me, begging for Alpha to fuck you.”
The heat between your thighs becomes unbearable, jammed against his size viciously strumming your clit. Heavy palms cup your waist, riding you back and forth on his length faster, scrabbling at the wall.
Jeno shouts a string of curses, ripping away only to throw you down on the bed. Throat tight as he swiftly twists off his shirt. Pupils blown wide covered in black, a blush rising from the center of his chest to warm pink nipples, tracing the veins lining his throat to where his lips swell into a pout.
He stands proud following your heated gaze to his gleaming shaft standing tall, reaching the middle of his carved abdomen. Instinctively clamping your thighs together when he approaches, kicking his sweats off, smiling too adorably as he captures your thighs.
“What happened to being the queen of taking cock?”
Jeno lets out a giggle, a fucking giggle, amused by the sheer terror crossing your expression. Spreading your thighs apart, losing his stature when your heady scent hits him. Pussy insanely drenched leaving a puddled mess to create under your ass.
His length drapes down the center of your stomach, the tip landing just above halfway. Poking at your muscles twitching under his size. “That’s how deep I’m gonna fuck you.”
The need to claim you and make you his intensifies more, mesmerized by your hole twitching, pulsing around nothing. Your body screaming from anywhere to get fucked, for him to fuck you, that’s all Jeno can think. You need him to fuck you.
“Only I get to see you like this..” He says, jaw locking when he has to specify. “…out of all the Alphas who pay.”
The realization stirs up the Alphas primal hunger, desire overflowing to ruin you, ruin you for only him. Ensure that no one else will ever be good enough, no one else will ever satisfy you.
Jeno almost feels embarrassed as he circles the tip of his length on your entrance. Shivering from his thighs to where his throat bobs up and down. Prolonging teasing your hole only for his sanity— quietly pep-talking himself up to not cum in a minute, he hadn’t edged himself for hours into the night missing sleep over your videos to fuck up this chance.
After what feels like an eternity, he sucks down a deep breath lowering inch by inch into your sopping wet cunt. Lewd ridiculous sounds of wetness gush out around his fat size, walls clamping down sucking him in to move even faster. True to his word, your stomach extends when he sinks inside to the hilt, cock pushing your walls to a new stretch. Fiercely throbbing between your convulsing heat.
“Oh fu-fuck..” Jeno’s mouth drops open, his eyes rolling up as if this was his first time. Your pussy tightening around his size like a glove, the veins beating up and down his length molding to the shape of your insides. “So—so fucking tight.”
Jeno’s mewling, brain thoughtless to the cameras recording, not a care in the world about the amount of comments that would make fun of him. His reaction only confirming you weren’t just a pretty Omega for Alphas to shower with gifts, but the actual girl of his dreams. The fleshlight he discretely kept hidden under his bed from your merch site would never be able to compare.
He pulls out only to slam his cock back in, drowning in the way you spasm and clench around him. Pussy locked tight refusing to let go, knowing in the back of his mind he’d have you trained to take his size everyday, turn you into the perfect doll to sit on his cock.
The Alphas hands find your curved waist, dipping the pads of his fingers in to gain momentum. “So pretty, you’re so pretty.” He says between labored breaths, cock stroking in and out too rapidly, losing coherency too much to even understand him.
Jeno’s speed becomes punishing, caught up in his own crazed lust, determined to push cum far deep enough inside of you that you taste him in the back of your mouth.
Moans and whimpers soar off your tongue, head thrashing side to side as the Alpha lifts your ankles to his shoulders, pounding faster until you’re limp. Hanging boneless on his cock spearing all the way inside, bulging the skin around your navel out with each deep hit.
“Alpha..c-cum,” you babble breathlessly. Air knocked out of you with each unforgiving slide of Jeno’s length pushing your mind further away. “C-close, I—close.”
He nods, taking the initiative to fuck you with extra force until you’re shouting, gripping at the pillows above your head. The pillows he’s watched you ride and get off on countless amounts of times. Memories of cumming in the shower, at 3am in bed, even in the school bathroom resurface as his gaze takes in your breasts bouncing, clapping together from the impact of his body engulfing yours.
“Cum for your Alpha, cum for me baby.”
Your orgasm clutches you by the throat, beckoning your back to arch up as your release nearly forces Jeno’s size to push out. Wetness spritzing over his abs and chest, even reaching up to slap under his chin.
“What’s taking so long?” Jaemin steps in right as Jeno folds you in half, the backs of your knees hoisted to the sides of your head, neck thrown back in a complete daze.
The Alpha on top of you catches his friend entering from the corner of his eye, a camera in hand as they planned for better up-close shots under the premise of photographing content for your page. His thrusts never falter, angling and maneuvering just right to reach where you need, pummeling moaned gasps from the back of your throat.
“Gonna fill you full of pups.” Jeno mostly says to himself, voice rough and serious with each dip crushing his abdominal muscles together. Sweaty and flexing the more he grinds forward, grunting through licks at his teeth. “Want Alpha to breed your pretty cunt? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Fixated on chasing his release, Jeno pushes your thighs to your chest. Pressing hard watching his cock punch through your slick velvety walls. Entrance clinging to his thick girth, looking raw and used, still wanting more.
Droplets of sweat rain down, landing to melt along the backs of your legs from where they jump off Jeno’s jaw, neck rippling under a sheet of sweat. Exerting more power to cage you completely, leaving little to no room for you to even squirm away.
Jaemin expected to walk in on this, what he didn’t expect was the wash of annoyance that poured down his mind. Biting at his bottom lip to control himself from ruining the moment, he powers on the camera in his hand; zooming in to your face as Jeno leans in to give you the messiest, spittiest, barely there kiss. A kiss more so meant for his friends eyes only.
“What was that?” Jeno spews, wet hair flopping on his forehead. The heat from your bodies overpowering the air blowing from the vent above your door. Even Jaemin has to lap away sweat from his upper lip the closer he approaches.
Jeno’s question breaks through your mind with another ruthless snap of his hips. Chanting a round of broken yesyesyesyes, shouting out for the Alpha when his relentless pounding turns erratic, burning your back to shift up your bed. Damp bedding lights fire up your back, dragged harder by the Alpha losing his restraint, stilling right as your head hits the headboard.
Jeno’s growls sound close to whines, pup whines. Fucking like he’s never had a rut before, never slowing, emptying cum deep inside your walls for what feels like hours. Knot popping, sending hisses between his grinding teeth, deeply wrinkled around his squeezed shut eyes. Shallowly continuing to fuck your pussy through his never ending orgasm, knot attempting to sneak through with another thrust.
“Too much! S-too much!” You sob, head reeling and aching from how hard Jeno had fucked you, the headboard smacking back when you collided.
Jaemin taps his friend's shoulder, breaking his daze. Finally letting your legs down gently to not flop down harshly.
Jeno wants to curse, cry, shout and scream, kick his legs. Smoothing his hands down soft tender flesh lining your inner thighs, fixated on your ruined hole plugged up full of his cum, filled to the brim by his cock and knot. “So perfect.”
He shifts back just enough to admire white hot release squeeze out. Knot covered with a mixture of you both, something he could get off to if he had a photo on hand. Nodding for Jaemin to come closer and get a shot as he dips his digits to collect some of the blend, raising it to your lips letting out whines from over sensitivity.
“Open baby, that’s it pretty baby.” He coos, pushing a filthy wad of your cum onto your tongue, plump lips wrapping around his fingers with a suck.
Jaemin concentrates on filming your face, his dick twitching when your relaxed expression switches to one of fear, Jeno going on about how good you feel, how he’s your Alpha now.
“Who owns you now? Hmm?” He asks, penetrating his digits further in until you’re gagging, coughing from the rough pace he starts prodding your mouth with.
“You know why she’s not answering?” Jaemin interrupts, scanning the drool that's covered your chin and chest. “You can’t own a slut.”
Without another word, Jaemin elbows Jeno’s side, taken over by how long he’s waites. How infuriated he feels having to witness another Alpha fuck you stupid when that should be him.
The Alpha in question grumbles, knot gone down enough to be shoved aside with ease to be forgotten. He sits near, doing as he was instructed to earlier— ‘film it like a viewer would enjoy, you should know how.’
Jaemin’s fast to turn you over, his hands brushing up the backs of your thighs to grip your hips. Positioning your ass up like a good Omega presenting for their Alpha, not even giving you a minute to realize he’s about to fuck you face down ass up before he swipes between your folds gathering slick and cum, burying into your ass with one push.
He’s big— so fucking big. Fully erect, stretching your hole wide around thick fat girth. The better part of Jaemin long gone, his only care now to fuck your ass raw, hear your wails blast around the room, claim a part of you before Jeno can.
He’s so deep, filling your hole up giving you no time to even adjust, writhing as you reach for something, anything. Clutching at your bed topper, at Jeno’s smooth built thigh. The Alpha panning over the exposed white of your eyes, tongue hung out trickling saliva out like something straight out of Hentai.
Jaemin’s strong thighs press to the backs of yours, cock fully breaching your hole, stinging from the tip of your spine all the way to the top. Cries, sobbing cries sound before you can even register, fucked too stupid by the fullness splitting your ass open.
Nothing about the Alphas movements comes across charming or polite anymore, brutally gripping your hips with a bruising hold; leveraging your weight to snap forward forcing a deep bowed arch in your back.
Skin clapping against wet skin boomed around your bedroom, muffling the whimpering moans spewing from your chest. Jaemin only spurred to fuck you full of his rage— rage that should be directed at the Alpha equally irritated behind the camera.
“Alpha! Please—“ saliva collecting around your tongues slips free, covering your chin in more of a mess. Adding more obscenity to the visual of Jaemin’s broad figure behind you, pushing the mounds of your ass to roll over onto your lower back with each pummel of his hips.
“Did I say you could fucking speak?” Jaemin growls, slapping your hip before looping a fist through your hair. Yanking to lift your head for the camera lense to zoom in and out and focus on the disaster that’s taken place. Tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, lips debauched from chewing and biting, snot mixing with sweat above your pout. A nasty little mess, manhandled around by Alphas like nothing but a useless fucktoy.
“You see Jeno?” He leans over, pressing against your ass making your thighs scream from the burn of his weight pushing you into a half-split bent at your knees. “He’s your biggest fan.”
Jaemin’s tone fills with mockery, taunting and picking at his friend, taking a hold of your jaw with his other hand to make you look at the camera, look at Jeno’s enraged face hiding behind it. The cold gaze watching you coiling heat through your gut, spiraling up your chest. Trapped by the Alphas hand lowering to cup your throat with a squeeze, coughing through sobs the more he tightens.
“So fucking ungrateful, he pays so much just to watch you, pretend you belong to him.” Jaemin tuts, lifting hooded eyes to glare at the other. “This is how you thank him? Let his best friend fuck your ass. Such a fucking whore.”
Jeno’s lips pull back in a snarl, silently warning his roommate to stop trying him. Making him suffer as much as he’s made you with the bullshit he goes on saying.
“You can thank him better than this.” Jaemin says, roughly shaking your throat in his grip. “Come on, open up that pretty mouth.”
Instantaneously your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, causing Jeno to grunt, clamping his free hand around the base of his shaft. Shame and thrill combining to rip a guttural moan through it all. Jaemin only using your brainless weakened stated to his advantage.
The Alphas bicep lodges against your throat, squeezing your breath to choke out with every thrust, his other hand fisting your hair until your neck arches back in a painful way. Jeno getting an amazing shot of your tongue hanging lifelessly, drooling onto Jaemin’s meaty bulging bicep. Biting down on it hard enough to shock yourself to waken enough and cry.
Jaemin’s nose buries behind your ear, licking at whatever he can reach. Hiding his voice by latching onto your neck. “So fucking sexy, you’re so fucking hot.”
He gets it, he more than gets it. Stilling to circle against your ass as he lets out a less than manly whine. The desperation rumbling from his chest lets you know he’s close, face crumpling behind you, doing his best to keep it a secret with his nose tucked into your hair.
His thrusts snap like quick jabs, sharp and pointed. Expertly fucking your ass without losing his pace, without caring if you even get off. Letting your head drop, Jaemin gives your scalp a break, slapping a firm grip on your shoulder to keep you in place. The impact forcing your face to drop forward, biting down on the bicep shifting under your chin. Thick meat of muscle fills your taste buds, laving at it pathetically to compress the wails trying to crack from your lungs.
Jaemin knows he doesn’t have to do it, he doesn’t owe you a damn thing. Reminding you to be grateful he’s even fucking your slutty ass, he jerks your neck back up, cracking in the process. Pushing your hips up with his length grinding into you. Fingers swoop down, blurring over your clit in a mean way just to make you cry more. “Show your loyal fans what it takes to make you cum.”
Fumbling to fist the bedding, you convulse, pussy clenching at nothing. Squirting all over your thighs, ruined pretty pink blanket, and the Alpha’s forearm continuing to vibrate pushing your orgasm over the edge.
Jaemin let’s out a cracked groan, having to slow down from the ass clamps around him. Thrashing against his arm making the pressure worse on his cock.
He sighs through a moan, cupping your bruised hip to pull out, cock landing with a wet slap where your butt perks and rounds out. Struggling to keep his eyes open as he groans filthily, the tip of his length prodding in and it of your hole to push his cum in. Letting the rest of it cover your ass with a creamy layer.
“There you go,” he sighs, kissing your temples. Licking away sweat that’s about to clump your eyelashes together more. “Such a good Omega.”
He eyes the teeth marks shining under a coat of drool left behind on his arm, softly dislodging your chin while massaging the back of your strained neck. “Hungry little puppy.”
He thrusts back in once more for good measure, making you squeal and hiss, his heavy hand pushing at your lower back to slide out with calm. Cum bubbling around his softening length as your rim pulses.
Jeno lets out an angry scoff, grabbing onto the back of your leg once Jaemin finally moves off. Grumbling something about how his friend took long enough.
“N-no! No more!” You cry, wailing, weakly trying to crawl away on your knees. Jeno tossing you onto your back like a rag doll after Jaemin emptied the life out of you.
“Shh, be good for Alpha.”
The last thing you hear before your eyes roll to the backs of your sockets. Lungs crushed under Jeno’s weight as he sinks deep inside your ass pushing the rest of Jaemin’s cum to pour out.
Tumblr media
“Hey.” Jeno’s eyes light up above you, his face all fresh with floppy damp hair. Sporting a soft smile, patting a cool cloth on your forehead. “You’re awake. I think your heat actually broke.”
“Hmm?” Sitting up on your elbows, you see Jaemin sitting at the end of the bed, a shifty gaze roaming between you and the other Alpha.
“You feeling okay?” He asks, rubbing at the side of his neck, a nervous habit.
“Kind of sleepy.” You yawn, settling against two stacked pillows. Jeno continues to pamper you, apologizing for losing control with a look of concern.
“That was the point, Alpha.” You reassure with a wink, tracing the lines of his opened apologetic palm. “Should have the video up by tomorrow, after my editor cuts all the unsexy stuff.”
Jaemin clears his throat to interrupt, wishing Jeno would leave first so he could talk to you in private. It’s not as if his roommate should have any type of claim on you just because he was horny enough to pay for a monthly subscription.
“We should leave so you can rest.” He nods. “I have some errands to run tomorrow nearby, if you need anything..”
Jeno’s jaw pops open, fixing his friend with an offended look. The other proceeding to ignore him with a shrug.
“Thank you Alp—….Jaemin..”
“Of course.” He smiles politely, the demon that had just wrecked your ass long disappeared by now. “Let’s get going Jeno.”
Jeno follows after Jaemin, trudging to exit with slumped shoulders, weighed down by an impending sensation of regret. Tilting his head side to side annoyed the more he thought about it.
“Be right back!” He spins, jogging the short distance back to your bedroom to find you still blissfully laid in place ready to fall asleep again.
“Hey.” He smiles brightly, blinking to keep his eyes as open as possible despite the way his cheeks ache from stretching his lips so wide.
“Jeno? Did you forget something?”
The Alpha steps back inside, sinking your bed in where he sits and pulls out his phone. “Yeah, your phone number.”
“Ahh..” covering your face, you can’t resist the urge to squeal. The overly eager Alpha unleashing shyness and excitement in your chest. “So cheesy!”
“I should’ve been cooler, right?” He wonders, teeth chattering with a nervous laugh. “Strolled in like— what’re you doing this weekend? Other than me?”
“Jeno?” Jaemin pokes his head past your door, having followed after him and listened to this embarrassing back and forth long enough. “Let’s go. Now. Haechan and Renjun have been waiting for us at the restaurant.”
“Oh yeah yeah, sorry.” Jeno leans over, stealing a kiss on your forehead as if his mouth hadn’t just slathered the entirety of your body in sucks and bites. “Get some rest.”
Jaemin nods, staying behind as his friend walks out. “Can I text you still?”
“Huh?” You question sleepily, confused as to why he’d ask. “Of course.. Alpha.”
Jaemin smiles, ducking his chin to hide the blush seeping through his cheeks. “Maybe we can hang out? next Saturday?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
a/n: Jeno favoritism always😭
Tumblr media
ps- kinda proofed/kinda not🥹💙
4K notes · View notes
thatfeelinwhenyou · 7 months
Text
KINDRED — yang jungwon
Tumblr media
It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star taekwondo athlete and put them in front of a camera?
“Kindred” a student documentary. Pilot episode airing tonight on TVN 7PM KST.
PAIRING: athlete!jungwon x stucopres!fem!reader
FEATURING: enhypen, yunjin from lesserafim, ryujin and chaeryeong from itzy, chanelle from runext, beomgyu and taehyun from txt, wonyoung from ive, gunwook and gyuvin from zb1 etc.
GENRE: high school au, enemies to lovers, nerd x athlete, forced proximity, slice of life, coming of age, he fell first but she fell harder, fluff, ANGST, teen drama, slow burn ish?
WARNINGS: contains profanities, horrible attempt at humour, urban lingo, probably cringy, kys/kms jokes, depression jokes, sexual innuendos (nothing too inappropriate), depiction of violence, reader can be a little bit annoying at first, family drama, incorrect timestamps/information, no fixed faceclaims, not proofread etc.
STATUS: completed! (01/09/2023 – 18/03/2024)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: please read! story concept is heavily inspired by the kdrama ‘our beloved summer’ other than that the storyline is completely original (or so i assume since i manifested this out from the crevices of my pea brain). i’ll try to keep this one to ard 30 chapters (who am i kidding). chapters with ‘(hw)’ next to them indicates that they are half-written, in case y’all skip over it! as always, the content and depiction of the characters in this smau do not in anyway represent them in real life. also i know how twitter has been rebranded to x, but we’re just gonna continue calling it twitter. lastly, if you do end up enjoying, please do like, comment (love reading your comments btw), and reblog so this can reach!! without further ado, enjoy!
TAGS: #tfwy kindred #tfwy smau
Tumblr media
TEASER
profile. one | two | three
episode 1 - ratatouille and the underdogs
episode 2 - one way ticket to university
episode 3 - do you take constructive criticism?
episode 4 - unsolicited but appreciated
episode 5 - the art of benevolence
episode 6 - taekwondo-anti
episode 7 - beating the mentally ill allegations
episode 8 - can’t help it, i’m a libra
episode 9 - operation we-don’t-really-hate-each-other (hw)
episode 10 - she’s an oscar award winning actress
episode 11 - someone like me (hw)
episode 12 - ‘female-lead-realising-the-bad-boy-isnt-actually-that-bad’ arc
episode 13 - 5 foot 9 garfield meets avatar
episode 14 - yn the heterosexual
episode 15 - the ynwon getting closer montage :p
episode 16 - to the moon and back
episode 17 - eat 2 left toes
episode 18 - you are approved! (hw)
episode 19 - asking for a friend
episode 20 - rediscovering won’s ability to love
episode 21 - beomgyu’s 99999 eq
episode 22 - ynwon get together or else >:(
episode 23 - “hate”
episode 24 - not all problems can be solved with a formula
episode 25 - H.O.M.E.W.R.E.C.K.E.R
episode 26 - collecting facebook milfs like pokémons
episode 27 - you were brighter than the moon (hw)
episode 28 - no matter shrimp or whale, you deserve to flap your tail
episode 29 - the garden is full of surprises (hw)
episode 30 - weapon of mass destruction
episode 31 - the name above me (hw)
episode 32 - no offense but she’s a cockblocker
episode 33 - the bane of my existence (hw)
episode 34 - risky risky wiggy wigi this is an emergency
episode 35 - live my life on my terms (hw)
episode 36 - separation anxiety goes crazy
episode 37 - paparizzki
episode 38 - is it too late now to say Sorry?
episode 39 - everything will work out just the way you want it to (hw)
episode 40 (finale) - her entire being is loveable (written)
epilogue - kindred, signing off part 1 | part 2
Tumblr media
bonus chapters!
yunjin x heeseung
i can fight
Tumblr media
Copyright© 2023 thatfeelinwhenyou All Rights Reserved
1K notes · View notes
euphoriclow · 21 days
Note
what do you plan on doing when you reach your goal weight? this is for all ana’s actually, what happens then?
(i’m not anorexic but my sibling is and i wanna understand them better)
This one's gonna be long, and kinda more serious than my other stuff
this is honestly hard to answer, the logical thing would be to say "well i'd just want to maintain" but ana is a mental illness at the end of the day, and its unlikely to ever actually feel content even at a goal weight.
From what i've seen the goalpost just keeps switching lower and lower because in our eyes we truly won't feel thin enough. I don't want to speak for *everyone but most of the people i've seen follow a similar trajectory. You get smaller, you get a small boost for the moment right after you lose but then go back to hating the weight you're at and want to be smaller. I was over the moon when I finally got to under 50kg, now I almost had a heart attack thinking I went back over 45kg. It's really a vicious cycle. The smaller the number gets the more in control you feel, and that's what ana is about. The more out of control you feel the more you will want to get that number even smaller.
Mask off for a moment here, I understand why people want to glamorize ana, i really do get it, hell i do it a lot too, but there is not a 'what happens then' really. You either recover or don't, and if you don't then well, you have a high chance of just kicking the bucket (tho most ana deaths r linked to s//icide and not acc their weight, but obv being dangerously underweight can also take you out)
| *edit: someone did also mention that malnutrition can cause many other health issues that can lead to death, not just ur weight, which is absolutely true but I didn't make clear in my first writing of this since to be fair i was trying to avoid the topic for my own sake. but it's important, and I said this is a mask off moment so I wanted to add it on here as well. |
I don't want people to take my words as gospel or anything, i am a mentally ill teen I don't claim to be a professional or even intelligent when it comes to mental health (clearly lmao), but if nothing else i'm realistic. I can't stress this part enough though, i'm just someone who suffers from it. If i had all the answers, I wouldn't be in this position.
Also you don't understand how much it means to me (a stranger on the internet) that you're actually going out of your way to understand ur sibling, rather than judging them or just trying to force them into recovery. So I'm sure it means the world to them (even if they don't know).
To go back to the original question, the most realistic answer I guess is 'I don't know'. Maybe once I get there I'll feel happy and in control and choose to maintain and live my life, I doubt it, but that's what I want to say. Hell, maybe I'll realize what I'm doing to myself and decide to recover, or maybe I'll just give up living. Whatever the case is, I'm sorry I can't give a better answer, but this is the best I got. Thanks again for asking this.
193 notes · View notes
leviscolwill · 7 months
Text
moonlight, sunrise
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader
summary: after trent's first time captaining his boyhood club, you can't help showing him your appreciation [wc: ~700]
contents: tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, captain trent ‼️, food mention, not proofread yet 🏃‍♀️
note: needed to write a little something for my boy <3
now playing: moonlight sunrise by twice (ready to be)
you were absolutely stoked when darwin scored a late goal for your team, winning newcastle 2-1. during all the game, your thoughts went to your boyfriend, who captained his team after van dijk got red carded. you knew how much his boyhood club meant to him and how much he adored it, so being vice captain was a huge honour. after the final whistle, you grabbed your phone to send him a quick text; "congrats on today's win my captain !! can't wait to celebrate with you tonight xx". you knew he wouldn't answer right away so you got up to prepare trent's surprise.
you put on your favourite playlist, and searched for everything you needed to make some pizzas, from the dough to the toppings, you had everything you needed. trent loved your pizzas, you weren't the best cook around but it was the one dish you could never miss.
you tried shaping the dough into little hearts, colouring them with bright red tomato sauce. your addiction to 'good pizza great pizza' helped you create the best pizza with trent's favourite toppings.
while you were finishing the last couple mini pizzas, you felt someone hug you from behind.
"they look so good, you really outdone yourself with these." you heard trent's voice in your ears.
"no ! they were supposed to be a surprise... please pretend you never saw this." you say in a disappointed tone, you must have been too distracted by your music to hear trent coming home.
"alright, alright. can i help you with the last one at least ?"
"of course not, you can't help making your own gift." you refused, but trent wouldn't take no for an answer. he placed the toppings to form a smiley face on the heart pizza. you snapped a quick picture of your masterpiece before putting it in the oven.
your boyfriend set up the table while you lit up some scented candles. these kinds of evenings were your favourites. the evenings when your boyfriend's was just yours, not the media's or the fans'. just trent, just yours.
trent was taken aback when you hugged his back, resting your head on his shoulder.
"you know i'm proud of you, right ? you did great today mister liverpool captain."
"i think you might have mentioned that a couple of times. thank you for believing in me pretty girl." he pressed a kiss on your lips before getting the pizzas out of the oven.
you ate your pizzas in front of a movie trent picked, of course, under the covers you brought to your living room, intently listing to each other's comments as silly as they might have been.
quickly enough, you fell asleep and felt trent's arms carrying you to your shared bedroom.
"where are we going ?" you asked him in a sleepy voice, even though you already knew the answer.
"to bed ratatouille."
"don't compare me to a rat." you huffed in disapproval of his newfound nickname for you.
"you're the rat that makes the best pizzas in the whole world."
you both cuddled up under your covers, and you felt tiredness get the best of you, trent must have felt it as well.
"goodnight, i love you." he said pressing a kiss on your cheek, after turning off the lights.
"i love you too, sleep well my captain."
trent's light strokes on your arm and his slow breathing lulled you to sleep swiftly. these were really your favourite nights, in the company of your favourite boy.
420 notes · View notes
barzysunflower · 24 days
Note
obsessed with your writing!!! I was wondering if you could do barzy w a plus size reader? smutty if possible 😍🥰
of course I can! and let’s ignore the embarrassingly long time this has taken me to answer and I’m so sorry but I do want to say that it's never my intention not to be inclusive with my fics. I try to be vague for a reason so you can imagine what you want :)
word count: 1.5k
content warning: insecurities, SMUT (18+): oral, piv
started this a while ago, but finally got to finish it hence the start of the season details at the beginning lol
Tumblr media
After the very successful game the Islanders just won with your boyfriend Mat scoring his first goal of the season you and some of the team went to a bar afterwards to celebrate. However, neither you nor Mat could keep your hands off each other so you cut your little outing short.
Since you had no work in the morning, it wasn't a problem for you to stay over at Mat's place and spend the night doing incredibly dirty things to each other. Since the relationship was still fairly new, you still had lots of exploring to do in your sexual lives and you loved every second of it.
"Off, off, off," Mat said hurried between hot kisses, tugging at your clothes. You did the same, quickly giving up on his buttoned shirt and moving on to his pants that after a couple of minutes of fumbling finally hit the floor.
Both down to your underwear, you finally moved to the bed, Mat spreading your legs before climbing on top of you with a mischievous grin. He all but threw himself onto you attacking you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders pulling him even closer, sliding your hands down his back and back up to his hair while you rocked against his bulge until you were whining pathetically. You were dripping with so much arousal, you knew you were leaving a wet spot on his briefs, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
Mat ripped away from the kiss to continue trailing kisses down your neck. When his teeth nipped at the spot at the base of your neck, where your pulse was thundering out of sync with the rocking of your hips, your head fell back so you were baring more of your throat to his mouth. He indulged you, his mouth suckling little love bites into your skin.
"Thank you for coming tonight," Mat rumbled as he kissed his way down to your tits, bending you backward while he sucked one nipple into his mouth, drawing a cry from you. He made a pleased sound deep in his chest before torturing your other tight peak in the same way. "Loved knowing you were there," he murmured into your skin.
"Maty," you whined more insistently, bucking your hips into his bulge harder as your need to be filled grew more desperate. Your hands wandered down the sides of his chest, stroking over his muscles, the dips and curves of his body that you were still getting to know. Your fingertips traced along the edge of his boxer briefs, snapping them against his skin hard enough to drag his gaze to yours. "Need you, need you," you begged, your voice hot against his ear.
He pressed a hot kiss on your lips before turning you over so he lay on his back with you holding yourself up by your hands on his chest. And with a smirk he grinned up at you and said, "Come up here. Kneel over my face."
Your core throbbed at the thought of it, but instead of moving and obeying his order, you froze and a heating blush crept over your face. You've been shy about receiving oral sex in the past, but especially with you on top, you could feel your insecurities clamming you up. Mat could tell the shift in the situation and his gaze immediately softened from the commanding one. His hand cradled your cheek and he lifted himself enough to meet your lips. "It's ok, we don't have to," he murmured, softly kissing you. "We can flip back."
"No, I just– I don't wanna hurt you," you mumbled, still flushed. "It's also not a very flattering angle."
Mat let out a low chuckle and kissed you hot and passionately, telling you not to worry about your insecurities. "You look good from any angle, baby. Especially good when I have my head between your legs." You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling. "Wanna try? We'll stop if you're not into it."
You nodded slowly, taking in a deep breath to relax. Mat's lips met yours again gently, reassuring you that you were safe with him. Then he leaned back and with a viscous grin he said, "Now come sit on my face."
You awkwardly shuffled up, facilitated by Mat pulling you to his face with a strong grip on your ass. His fingers dug deep when you were finally in a good position and pulled you down hard to sit on him. With no further hesitation he immediately latched onto your hot sex. With each lick and suck you grew more and more comfortable until all your worries dissolved into a beautiful warm feeling.
Mat’s groan vibrated against your core, dripping wet for him, making you shiver. "Oh, god." One hand dropped to the wall in front of you to hold you steady, while the other slid into Mat’s hair as he sucked and teased your clit. Your hips started to move in tiny little rocking motions against him, and your breath hitched when he moaned long and loud to stimulate you with the vibrations.
You cried out when he unexpectedly slipped a finger between your legs. He dipped just the tip of it into your entrance, in and out, just the tip, teasing you. Then, with a hard sucked on your clit he pushed his finger all the way in. You screamed in pleasure, Mat groaning equally loud as he continued to fuck you gently on just that one finger for a long time. When you started to grow impatient, he added another finger. The fullness was a relief, and you moaned a little louder, pulling his hair.
"Mat, oh. Yeah."
"Yeah?" He kept his fingers buried in you and rocked his hand rather than thrusting it, pulling your body forwards and backwards with the force of it, his fingers hooked inside, getting at that soft spot.
"Ohgn..."
"Mmhm," he rumbles. "I knew you’d love it." He stuck his tongue out, teasing your clit. Inside your cunt, his fingers moved more viciously, bringing you closer to the edge.
"Oh! Yeah. Maty, Mat!" The way he was touching you was getting you close, fast, and he had come to know your tells well enough to know this. He growled beneath you and kept a steady pace, giving you more of what you needed to cum. "I-I'm gonna," you gasped.
"Do it," he coaxed, bumping his nose against your clit again and again, curling his fingers over that spot inside. "Let it come, love. Let it happen."
You used to struggle with it, but not anymore. You had been with Mat long enough and had explored each other enough that you were comfortable enough to orgasm.
You cried out loudly as it crest and finally washed over you, Mat's fingers forcing it out of you, sharp and sweet. "Ohhn, oh god, ohhh. Shit, shit.." You came on those tightly hissed words, riding it out against his hand and tongue that happily lapped at your clit.
You were left panting and in such a haze that you didn’t even notice Mat gently moving you from atop him back on to the mattress until he was on top of you, pressing soft kisses along your jaw and neck. You hummed, feeling so at peace and loved.
“Good?,” Mat murmured against your skin and all you managed was a nod and another humming sound that had him chuckle.
And when enough moments passed and your arousal started to rise again, your hands traveled across Mat’s body and urged him into another round. His cock slipped into you with ease, but stilled to give you a couple of seconds to adjust. Finally, Mat’s hips started moving. Slowly. So torturously slow did he pull out and thrust back home. Not once did his lips leave your skin. He ravished your lips, your neck, your breasts as he continued to slowly and deeply move inside of you.
Your lips met and you easily slipped your tongue into his mouth. It was warm and welcoming, your arms wrapping around his shoulders with the intention of never letting him go. Slowly Mat started picking up his speed, but his thrusts were more hard and controlled. You were a tangled mess, both of you holding onto each other tightly and needing to be even closer than physically possible. Your nails scratched his back, his scalp, his shoulders. Your lips pressing hot wet kisses to his skin, just like he was doing to you. His hard thrusts eventually became sloppier and quicker and you both neared your release. And when you did fall over the edge, it was Mat’s name you were crying out and back you were scratching while he emptied himself inside of you with a loud groan.
Tumblr media
feedback & reblogs are always encouraged & appreciated 🫶🏼
219 notes · View notes
heavyhitterheaux · 30 days
Text
Got Me Thinking
Part 1: Butterflies
Tumblr media
Synopsis: a reunion that is well overdue makes your heart flutter once you lay eyes on your first love in more than ten years and the feelings that you thought were long gone come rushing back
Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader
Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere
Sighing to yourself, you quickly pulled out your phone and started looking for plane tickets to head back home to Louisville. It had been a little while since you had been back, but your biggest reason for going was to get away from him.
Him being your husband, Xavier.
The two of you had been married for only three years, but you were over it. You had come to the realization that the person you married was long gone and that there really was no hope left. The less that you were around him, the better.
You knew he was cheating on you and you recently discovered that he had gotten another woman pregnant and that she was due in less than a month.
He had no idea that you knew all of that information and since you found out, you had just been biding your time and had since opened up another bank account to save money in order to plan to get away from him.
The goal was to move back to Louisville so that you could be closer to your parents and siblings who stayed there while you were the only one that left.
Booking your flight, you closed your phone to begin packing since you would literally be leaving within the next few hours. At this point, you were desperate and longing for a peaceful environment.
You knew that he wouldn't ask any questions about where you were and it seemed as if it had gotten to the point where the two of you were simply roommates and you were completely okay with that.
It had been almost a week since you had seen him anyway.
A quick text was sent to your mom to let her know to expect you around midnight and she quickly responded back in excitement.
The plan was to divorce him by the end of this year because then you would have more than enough money to live off of for the time being once you moved back. Truth be told, you had enough money now, being a CRNA had its perks and it helped that you lived in California which had the highest pay for nurses because of the cost of living. Moving to Louisville would definitely be a pay cut, however you didn't even care. You just wanted to get away from him.
When you had finally touched down in Louisville at midnight, you told your mom not to worry about getting you from the airport but she insisted and wouldn't take no for an answer.
Once you slid into the passenger seat of her car after throwing your suitcase in the back, she immediately eyed you which made a sigh escape from your lips.
“Hi to you too, mother.”
“I'm just waiting until the divorce is finalized so that I can throw you a party.” She said while following behind the other cars headed towards the highway.
“By the end of the year. I told you that already.”
“But what are we waiting for? Anything that you need, you know me and your dad will support you until you get settled back here in Louisville. He is a piece of shit and I'm tired of him treating my daughter as if she isn't the best thing to happen to his ungrateful ass.”
“He wasn't always like this.”
“I know because if he was, ain't no way in hell he would have gotten my approval to marry you.” Your mother replied with her voice slightly raised and you simply sighed.
“You deserve so much more and it is hard seeing my youngest child so unhappy all the time. So, I'm just going to say it.”
“MOM!” You replied turning to her with wide eyes because you knew what was going to happen next and what she was going to say because she said it every single time that you talked to her on the phone or facetime.
“Jack wouldn't have treated you like this.”
“Will you ever let that go? We broke up more than 10 years ago! It was a mutual decision!”
“Well it needs to be a mutual decision for yall asses to get back together. Jack is the only son-in-law that I'm going to acknowledge at this point and I am waiting for the proposal. See? It's meant to be. I don't like his wife and I don't like your husband. There, that settles it.”
Any time that someone mentioned Jack, your heart immediately began to race and the butterflies in your stomach increased tenfold.
The two of you decided to end your relationship after dating from your freshman year in high school all the way up until senior year. It wasn't because either of you wanted to, it just was what was best. You were going to nursing school and Jack was trying to become a rapper and get a record deal and move to Atlanta. When you sat down and thought about it, the two of you could have made it work, but the last thing you wanted was for him to feel like he was being held back by you in any shape or form.
You saw how successful he was and was proud of him and never counted him out for a minute despite what people were saying around the two of you.
“Wait, pause. When did he get married?!”
“Talk about a delayed reaction. But it only happened about ten months ago. You and Xavier were umm… starting to have your issues so I didn't mention it. I met her when I went to meet Maggie for lunch and she gave me… What's that word yall use now? The ick. And in not so many words when Maggie and I went to lunch, she told me she didn't like her either and that he should have married you. Jack even LOOKS unhappy. But you didn't hear that from me. Do what you want with that information. I mean you could always go over to Maggie and Brian's. It seems like he's always there and never at home. I wouldn't be at home either with someone like that.”
“Mom! Quit it. I am here to…”
“Get away from your cheating ass husband who is also about to have a baby on you? Go and get the man who has wanted you since you were fourteen.”
All you did was sigh because you knew deep down that your mother was right. But, you still had hesitations in the back of your mind. You highly doubt that Jack still felt the same about you all these years later. Besides, he had a whole wife and you could admit that your mother could be extra dramatic at times, so why would he marry her if he didn't even like her?
“Okay, changing the subject. What do you want to eat when we get home?”
“Mom, it's one in the morning.”
“So? What time do stomachs open?”
Later on in the day when you had gotten some much needed sleep, you had a craving for some Italian food and decided to go to a restaurant not too far from your parents’ house and get your order to go. Your all time favorite, Vincenzo's.
In order to make it so no one in your house had to cook dinner, you took it upon yourself to get something for everyone. You had already placed your order and was waiting for it as you were scrolling on your phone, when suddenly you heard someone call your name from behind.
“Y/N?”
Once you looked up and turned around, you came face to face with no one other than Jack's younger brother Clay. Who you hadn't seen since you left Louisville to go to nursing school.
“Well look who it is and who is all grown up. Hi, Clay.” You responded while giving him a hug. You remember him wanting to be just like Jack and would want to follow him around everywhere.
“Just visiting or moving back like your parents want?” He asked and all you could do was roll your eyes because you knew your mom would tell anyone who would listen.
“Oh, so she's literally made it known to everyone that they want me to move back, but just visiting for right now. Had a taste for some Italian so here I am.”
“What are you doing tonight? Are you busy by any chance?” Clay asked, catching you off guard. Your only plans were to drink wine and watch tv until you passed out for exhaustion.
You simply shook your head no towards him.
“Well, it's Jack’s birthday and we’re throwing a surprise party for him and Urban. You should come. I know he would be happy to see you.”
You didn't even realize that it was in fact March 13th.
“Clay, I don't know. We haven't seen each other in over ten years.”
“All the more reason to come. Just…. trust me on this. He would want you there and I won't get knocked upside the head for his gift not being here on time and I'll just say that you're the gift.” All you did was laugh and shake your head.
It wouldn't totally be a bad thing to see him, but what would you say when you did?
The butterflies were erupting in your stomach again and you looked back up at Clay before you talked yourself out of it.
“What time and where is it?”
Your older sister, Janelle was currently with you in your childhood bedroom helping you decide what to wear and of course she was picking out the more revealing outfits while you were simply trying to be modest.
“Put them titties on display! Show him what he’s been missing!” She yelled and you simply looked at her and rolled your eyes.
“You are literally the worst and I should have asked Jeremiah.”
“Should have asked me what?” Your older brother and the middle child, Jeremiah asked as he popped his head into your room.
“What the? Since when do you live here?” You asked, confused by his sudden appearance.
“Well damn, I can’t come and see my baby sister when she’s here anymore? And besides, Janelle texted me and said you were going to a certain ex’s birthday party. So, I needed to find out the details and especially when the wedding date is.”
“Because Janelle cannot keep her mouth shut to save her life and yes I am. And wait a minute, WEDDING DATE? You two are just as insane as our mother.”
“She won’t dress slutty though as I’m suggesting.” Janelle said while rolling her eyes at you.
“You want my ass and boobs out like I’m not going to freeze.”
“Hoes don’t get cold.” She fired back, but you quickly gave it right back to her.
“I’m anemic.”
“You know you’ve always been it for him. I mean my baby sister is the shit and he let you get away and is now married to… umm…. Someone that is not on his level.” Jeremiah said as he went over to your vanity to pick out jewelry that you would wear despite you not having an outfit.
Jeremiah was definitely the fashionista out of the three of you and you knew for a fact if he wasn’t an orthopedic surgeon that he would definitely be doing big things in the fashion industry.
“So, all of you have met her?!”
“And it was not a pleasant experience and one that had left a good first impression.”
Janelle got up to rummage through your suitcase and found a black halter top that she paired with tan cargo pants and proceeded to throw your New Balance 550’s at you that matched.
“Here, go put this on. Your boobs are going to be spilling out the top in this.”
“Did I ever tell you two how much you both get on my nerves?”
“All the time, but it’s a good thing that we don’t care. Now it’s time to catch us a man.”
“He’s married.”
“And so are you. And both of you are miserable. Hurry up and make this happen, we have a wedding to plan.”
It was now 8 PM and you were sitting in the passenger’s seat of Clay’s car and the two of you were headed to where the surprise party was going to be held and he noticed how much you kept fidgeting.
“Y/N, it’s going to be fine. I know he misses you even if he doesn’t want to admit it at times. He is always asking our mom if she had talked to your mom lately and always asked how you were doing.”
“Really?”
All Clay did was nod his head as he slowed down to a complete stop at the red light in the intersection.
“Look, I… know he probably doesn’t want you to know this, but I’m telling you anyway.”
“Tell me what?” Now you could feel your heart rate speeding up.
“When he found out that you were married that broke him even though he was trying to put up a front and now he probably won’t admit it if someone asked him. He has never moved on from you.”
“Clay…. He’s married so, obviously he did move on.”
“Hmm, if you could call it that.” He responded while snorting and trying to find a place to park so that the two of you could head inside.
“Wait, what?”
“You know from the start that we were always rooting for you two to be together. Even our parents were.”
“Clay, I did not come here to break up a marriage.”
“I… it’s already broken despite it not even being an entire year yet, but you didn’t hear that from me. But Jack has to see it for himself. Anyway, we’re here. And if nothing else tonight puts a smile on his face, I know you will when he sees you. His wife might show up, she might not… she’s a piece of work.”
“All of you give me entirely too much credit. I am nothing special.”
“Ask Jack if he feels the same way and I guarantee that he’s going to say that you are.”
The two of you walked in and Clay had mentioned that Jack and Urban were going to be there within the next ten minutes and now your butterflies were starting all over again as they erupted once more in your stomach.
When PG saw you, you were placed into bone crushing hugs and it was expressed how much you had been missed around Louisville, especially from Jack and that once he laid eyes on you that it would be a done deal.
Clay told you to hide to the side in the back corner as PG was in front of you so that when Jack walked in, he wouldn’t be able to see you until everyone moved out of the way. He planned on everyone screaming ‘surprise’ when both of them walked in and then telling him that he wanted to start the party off right by showing him a gift that he had been patiently waiting for, and that gift was you.
It was now quiet in the room that the party was taking place and the lights had been shut off and you heard Jack and Urban mumbling to each other while trying to find the light switch. Once they did, everyone screamed ‘surprise!’ and the two of them were all smiles.
This was the first time that you had laid eyes on Jack in person in more than ten years and the butterflies erupted once more. He looked so good and it felt that your heart was about to beat out of your chest.
Clay had walked over towards him to give him a hug and then whispered in his ear and you were assuming that he was telling him about the so-called “gift” and the two of them started to walk towards where you were casually standing behind Ace and 2fo.
“I know that this will probably be your most favorite birthday gift that I’ve ever gotten you.” You heard Clay say and you simply smirked and laughed to yourself.
“Hmm, I’ll be the judge of that.” You heard him answer and it was now go time.
“Okay, Ace and 2fo, move out of the way so that he can see his surprise. I made this happen by the way, just so you know.” Clay said and Jack immediately rolled his eyes before laughing.
Once Ace and 2fo moved, Jack came face to face with you and it seemed to be speechless and it was as if he couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of him.
“Happy thirtieth birthday, Jackman, or should I say Jackson? Did you miss me?”
174 notes · View notes
xxsabitoxx · 8 months
Text
Two is Better Than One [Teaser]
Geto Suguru x AFAB Reader x Gojo Satoru
Warning: the full version of this story will contain multiple smut scenes, naturally the completed story and official post will have a proper set of warnings!
A/N: full fic to come! This does not count for my 15k special btw so you’ll see a plethora of Sato/Sugu content soon :)
Tumblr media
Your fingers curled around the ends of his hair, black and silky. “So, are we going to finally discuss the obvious?” You teased your boyfriend softly, watching as he turned his head against the pillow to look at you. “Now?” he hummed, his face was just starting to return to its normal color, his chest had returned to an even pace of breathing. “Yes, now. No better time than now actually, Suguru.” You rolled onto your stomach, smirking as his eyes trailed to where your breasts squished into the mattress before his gaze returned to yours. “You’re never satisfied, my love.” he laughs softly, hand reaching out to smooth your hair, his eyes lingering on the bruises he left on your neck for a moment. “I suppose we can discuss the situation.” You smiled, happy that he had so easily given in because you had been itching to discuss a particular someone. 
“He’s getting more reckless with his advances.” You hummed softly, fingers reaching out to toy with a lock of his hair again. “I saw. He’s getting antsy, doesn’t know what to do with himself quite yet.” Suguru mimics you, humming softly as he finishes his sentence. “I can’t say I particularly blame him, I wouldn’t know what to do in his situation either.” The situation was the fact that Gojo Satoru very clearly harbored feelings for the both of you. It was honestly the opposite of the reaction that you had prepared for, you expected him to hold some sort of grudge over the fact that you had “stolen” his best friend. Even though you, Suguru, Satoru and Shoko had been close friends since your first year at Jujutsu Tech. 
“He’s used to getting his way, but this time he doesn’t know how to advance because he cares about both of us too much.” Suguru’s eyes closed, mulling over the possibilities.
“You don’t think he’s confused, right?” You chuckled, Satoru had always had a plethora of women essentially at his disposal, men too. Though as long as you have known him, you’ve always known him to turn men down. “No, he’s definitely not confused, more so he’s conflicted. I assume it is because he tends to come to me for advice on these things but… the issue at hand is me… us.” He finishes with a chuckle, one eye peeking open when he feels you shift closer. “And he can’t go to Shoko because she’d just call me up while he’s telling her these things and repeat them back.” You laughed at your friend’s habit of not being much help in the secrecy department, she figured the best solution was to face these things head on. 
“Precisely, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place… you and me.” 
“So what are we going to do then? To ease the torment of our beloved friend.” You spoke dramatically, legs tangling with him under the sheets. You only felt comfortable sleeping naked if he was close to you, a smile tugging at your lips as his arm instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you close. “Well there are a couple things we could do but none of them really ease his torment.” Suguru chuckled, as much as he loved Satoru, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to mess with him. Call him cruel but it lived for it, same with you. He always came off so sweet and polite but the moment he knew you were his, the sadistic side he tried to hide always came out. “Oh so you want to fuck with him for a bit before…” you paused “... We still need to figure out what the end goal of this is, Suguru.” You lifted your head from its spot on his chest. 
“Here’s the deal, my love. I give you permission to flirt with him, toy with him, see how far he’ll let you go before his guilty conscience creeps up on him and he questions your loyalty to me.” Suguru started, hand resting on the top of your head so you would place it against his chest again. “From there, it really depends on what Satoru does… I don’t feel all that comfortable welcoming him into our relationship if he lets you do these things with no hesitation. It shows me that he’s only lusting after you and the idea of ‘us’... nothing more.” You hum, seeing where Suguru is taking this. “If he stops you, shows discomfort in your advances and all that stuff… he passes. It shows that there is more respect and love in his advances than just lust.” 
“So you want me to play the part of an unfaithful whore?” you deadpan, head shaking with the way Suguru’s chest bounced with laughter. “No, we won’t let his potential uncertainty hang in the air for too long, my love. You can be upfront with him, tell him I gave you the green light to do these things.” You thought over everything he said, finding it to be easy and complicated all at once. Flirting wasn’t exactly your forte but you understood why Suguru wanted you to be the one to do it rather than him. Flirting only came easily to you when it was with Suguru, when it came to Satoru you liked to tease him rather than flirt. Though some people tend to view those as the same thing… Satoru being one of them. “So, if we get lucky and things advance further…” 
“Then you bring him back to our home, I’ll be waiting for you both, and we can carry on from there.” You swallow dryly at Suguru’s implications, head lifting to look back up at him. There was a brief moment of understanding, one that pulled a humorless huff of laughter from his lips as he recognized the look in your eyes. “You truly are never satisfied.” He commented softly, cock already twitching to life as you devoured him with one single stare. “It’s impossible to remain satisfied when I’m with you, you could give me everything and I would still crave more.” You’re pushing yourself upwards, pushing the sheets back until he’s fully exposed to your hungry gaze. “You could go for a third round, right?” You’re shameless as you straddle his waist. 
885 notes · View notes
rookiesbookies · 3 months
Text
Recovery
Soap x Price’s Niece!Reader & and exploration of his platonic relationship with his teammates based on what we’ve seen in the games.
Content Warning: Hurt-Comfort, mild angst, bittersweetness, some fighting, and it’s over 5.2k words
It’s all under the cut from here, big thanks to @shotmrmiller for editing my crap
When Soap had been shot, he had gotten incredibly lucky. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and had ended up lower than Simon swore he saw.
Well, I suppose ‘lucky’ is subjective. Johnny would be in the hospital for months healing. He had lost degrees of peripheral vision in both eyes, so there was no way he could go back into the field, he had to learn how to walk again, and some of his motor skills were to be relearned. He had been confined to a wheelchair for months. Complaining constantly about losing his muscles and how it would ruin his charm. His hands shook, he’d be unable to do any of the demolition and explosive work he used to.
He felt as though who he was, Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, was completely lost.
Captain Price and Laswell had been well overpatient with him.
Johnny had flung food trays at them when his hands shook too much to eat, constantly missing his mouth. He had had amnesia for the first two weeks or so after he woke up from his coma. He had had surgery after surgery, his mohawk shaved off to make it easier, the final piece of his identity stripped from him.
Price had never seen Johnny cry until the realization of who he became someone he could never be again.
Price still had no clue what had possessed him to call her.
His sweet niece, at least that's what he called her. She had been an exchange student, studying abroad for advanced college courses, when she lived with Laswell and her wife. They had volunteered so she could practice medicine on soldiers. Field medic had been her goal, but Price did reverse nepotism to make sure his niece never left the base.
He knew deep down she was the only one he could trust with the care of his sergeant. He also knew he could trust the Sergeant with the care of his niece.
It was a dream she had given up on, and she had planned to come visit anyway. Maybe this was an excuse to see the closest thing he had to a daughter again.
Laswell and her wife had offered to adopt the girl, Price told them they’d have to fight him for the chance. Maybe it was Price trying to atone for being too overprotective to let her fulfill her dream.
He had introduced Johnny to her before. Back when she had visited the second time. Johnny was still much younger, just earning his sergeant rank. He had threatened both Gaz and Soap, saying that if either tried anything he’d make them do work outs until they were in the medical station.
He knew Simon wouldn’t have been an issue.
Johnny and his niece were only a few years apart. Their first run in was when she was running to give Price some papers, it was before he had even introduced them and she had been on base. The floor was wet making sure she accidentally slipped and slide tackled poor Johnny. It wasn’t until she read his velcro on his uniform that she realized it was Price’s sergeant. She had been red in the face and embarrassed. Her papers littered the wet floor and she had been so apologetic she hadn’t even seen Johnny pick them all up.
It made their official introduction awkward, to say the least.
Johnny hadn’t seen her in a couple years when she walked into his room this time. His head was wrapped tight in a bandage, hair growing back in a small fuzz that he found embarrassing. His lips were red, cracked, and bloody from his angry chewing at it. He was so pale too, paler than a Victorian child. He didn’t smell of the arousing male musk he normally did, he looked weak. His pearly white teeth weren’t on show, his blue eyes weren’t bright.
“Johnny,” she said softly, “it’s been a while.”
“Don’t look at me, lass. I’m a sight to make eyes sore, not a sight for sore eyes.” He grumbled. Doing his best to cross his shaky arms and sigh. His voice wasn’t smooth or suave as it normally was with his natural Scottish gravel. It was dry, dusty, and crunchy like a gravel driveway in the summer.
They had flirted heavily. Or at least she had to him back in the day. An American who made disapproving jokes about the brits as he did. He couldn’t deny he found her attractive, the chemistry was undeniable, but he didn’t dare flirt back in the public eye for fear of his life.
She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. Reaching out to rub his chin, feeling the rough scruff that was longer than he’d usually keep it. Small knicks littered his face from when he tried to shave. She used this as an excuse to pull his face to look at her.
“I don’t know what you mean, I still see the same Johnny I always did.” She spoke softly. She knew being delicate with patients like this was crucial. She ran her thumb over his cracked lip. “Here.”
She pulled a lip balm from her purse. Telling him to pucker a bit so she could rub it on.
He couldn’t bring himself to say thank you, but she saw it in his eyes. The desperation, the want to cry, the defeat.
“I doubt yer just here to visit me.” He grumbled, having to stretch his arms out as keeping them crossed made them begin to shake like earthquakes instead of the small tremors that they were prior.
“Uncle John called me. I take it he and Laswell haven’t told you the plan.” She said softly, taking one of his hands in hers. He tried to pull back but quickly let in. “Just means I get to deliver the news.”
He cocked a brow.
“The plan is to fake your death. Put you in hiding. Get you out of here.”
“Lass, yer probably too bonnie to think about this, but I can’t wipe my own arse.” He snapped, like a hurt animal, not an ounce of malice or hate.
“Why do you think they called me in?”
“Yer not wiping my arse, love.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” She mumbled. Looking to the door to wave Price and Laswell in, Ghost and Gaz filing in behind. It had been months since he had seen those two. She saw the way his eyes almost lit up and quickly dimmed. Hollow. Like a fire that tried to start but the spark burned out too fast.
“We’ve already filled out the KIA.” Laswell started. “We’ve started filing the paperwork to put you in witness protection. You’d be moved to at home care, somewhere quiet. Given new identification, new everything.”
“My girl is going to look after you. I expect you to do the same in turn. I'm trusting you with her, MacTavish.” Price said, a poor attempt at playfulness with the dead inside young man before him.
“We’re going to start your PT. Help you with your motor skills. You should have the ability to move to at home care in a month or so.” Laswell tacked on.
John’s niece got off Johnny’s bed. Putting a hand on her uncle’s shoulder and nodding to Laswell before they filed out. Giving him a moment with his teammates, his brothers.
“Yer both gonna let them tell this poor girl she can wipe my arse?”
“Really stuck on the ass wiping thing, huh,” Gaz mumbled.
Ghost turned to close to the blinds on the door before sitting and pulling his balaclava off his head.
“Johnny.” He said as softly as his sharp voice could. “Maybe this is the fresh start ya need.”
“I don’t want a fuckin fresh start. I want my old body back.” Johnny growled.
“You can’t get that bloody back,” Simon snapped back before returning to his soft tone, “Price and his niece are doing your sorry arse a favor. This poor girl has agreed to be married to yer ass for an indefinite amount of time, don’t ya get that ya bastard?”
“A favor I didn’t ask for.” Johnny grumbled. He looked over at his gear, which sat sadly on a table.
“Johnny yer still young.” Simon sighed. “She’s a good girl, let her care for ya. We’re actively working to get permission to visit ya when yer all settled.”
Gaz stood, looking out the window at nothing, “ya know some would give a lot for an opportunity with a girl like that.”
“Then I’ll trade ya,” Johnny snarled back in a low voice.
Simon looks Johnny in the eyes one last time maskless in the room, “don’t fuck up yer chance at a new life, Johnny. Be smart for once ya bloody dense bastard.”
Ghost pulled his mask back on over his face. Blonde hair disappeared as he shoved it back under properly. Gaz moved to fix the window covering on the door, pulling it back open.
A couple of nurses filed in to change his bandages, the two men disappeared out to the hall.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Uncle Price,” she started, rubbing the back of her neck, “he doesn’t seem as… enthused as he normally would have been.”
“He’s in there, he’s just adjusting.”
“Hard to adjust to being helpless.” Gaz mumbled.
“Once he starts PT- the physical therapy will help.” John’s niece interjected. “The lack of is what’s been causing problems. Once he tries harder and has goals he may pep up.”
“I think it’s the loss of his beloved mohawk. I vote to get him a bloody wig.” Ghost threw in.
Laswell sighed. “Poor boy. He’ll pull through, it will just take time.”
Getting to Johnny to do PT was like leading a horse to water, you can’t make it drink.
His Commanding Officer yelling orders at him hadn’t done it, John’s niece couldn’t get him to do it with soft cooing and coaxingand even Simon failed. Johnny just ended up throwing the crayon he held in his hand to work on writing, and let himself fall as he tried to walk. Shouting about being a lost cause and how it was a waste of time.
“Johnny, please,” she pleaded, “just a few more steps. You’ve made such good progress.”
“Yer not my bloody girl, quit tryin to sweet talk effort out of me. I can smell yer pity.” He hissed, sitting back in his wheelchair.
17 steps.
They had gotten 17 steps out of him today. Which was a step and a half more than yesterday.
At least Simon hadn’t needed to pick him up like a giant baby to get him back to the chair today. He had also stood a good 10 minutes before needing a break.
When it was Simon’s day to motivate Johnny, he was by far the hardest on him.
“I'm going to keep pickin your sorry arse up and making you walk until you double what you did yesterday,” Simon growled through his mask. “I can tell yer not giving it your all.”
Anyone with eyes could see how emotional it made Simon. He was pushing his dear Sergeant sometimes well beyond his means.
It was also beyond a struggle for Simon to communicate how hard it was to watch Johnny just give up. Price could see how Simon’s eyes turned shiny as glass as he yelled at Johnny. He heard the small cracks in his voice as he picked Johnny up and made him walk those few more steps. He could see Simon’s pushing was all out of desperation to get Soap back. To get his partner back.
John Price had known Simon a long time. Well before he became Ghost, Price worked with him. Johnny was one of the few that brought Simon out in Ghost. Price and Gaz did as well, but not the way Johnny did. Johnny and Simon had the same dry sense of humor, there was a sense of understanding between the two that Price was proud to foster. That sense of understanding flooded the team, but whatever was between Simon and Johnny was just that bit more in depth. They were a team of brothers in arms, but those two were true friends.
Anyone could see Simon blaming himself for what happened to Soap as the two snarled back and forth. One of the two only let up when a physical therapist touched their arms or John’s niece quietly told them that arguments didn’t lead to progress.
Simon wasn’t supposed to be here even helping Johnny. Price had tried to tell him no. That it added risks, to which the lieutenant snarled that if the Captain could go see him he could. That it would arguably be safer for him since no one knows his face but the team.
Simon had never spoken to Price like that before.
Gaz had typically decided to wait outside for the sessions after the first one, it would have ended with Johnny fist fighting a physical therapist if he could close his fist without violently shaking and using all his strength.
Johnny didn’t see Simon blaming himself until the day he got so fed up in the private session he threw his mask to the floor to scream at him. A pointed finger to his chest as Simon finally exploded.
“Are you fuckin blind, Johnny? We’re not fighting against ya!” Simon practically screamed at Johnny. It was the first time he had yelled at anyone in years. Even stunning Price. “We’re not the enemy. We’re a team! We’re trying to help you get back to yourself.”
Simon took in a deep, shaky breath, “We don’t care about Soap, Soap is just a callsign and nothin more. We’re here for Johnny, ya dim bastard! Each and every one of us. We ain’t fightin ya, we’re fighting for you.”
A rogue tear, an enemy operative, running down his eye black. No one would have believed it if the trail wasn’t clear on his face. It was as if Simon’s tough love finally registered in his mind. As if someone else’s feelings were finally registering in his mind. This wasn’t the orders of a superior. This was love from a true brother.
It was the first time Johnny hadn’t had a snarky quip in two months. There was no snarl back, no growling, no yelling. Johnny just did his best to open his arms for a hug. Bracing himself with his brother’s body. Finally realizing he wasn’t the only one affected by this, that Simon and his team had genuinely thought he was dead. That they wanted him to truly live again.
The sight had the poor Captain teary. His niece took his hand to comfort him, watching carefully at the sight as months of Soap’s attitude turned into soft cries against Simon’s shoulder. She also distracted her uncle and herself, giving the two men some privacy.
The poor ferocious beast licking its wounds turned back into a scared little boy. One that muffled cries about losing who he was, not knowing what was next, fearing he’d never be the same, that feared he’d lose his team- his only true family- to this weakness and pain.
Simon just listened. He did his best to lift a bit of Johnny’s weight from his feet. Knowing he couldn’t stand long enough, or hardly at all. A small gesture, a bit of consideration for his friend.
It was the longest John MacTavish had stood since the accident. While he wasn’t unsupported, they all counted it as progress. A great deal of progress.
“It could only have been you to get through to him, ya know?” Price said with a sad playfulness as he nudged Simon.
“He’s got a thick skull, the bastard does.” Simon sighed, trying to return the playfulness, but all he only sounded defeated.
“I think where we are is evidence of that enough,” Price laughed dryly. Kneeling in front of Simon in the recreation room on base for the team. “Never seen ya yell like that, Lieutenant.”
“Don’t like yelling, but the ringing in his ears must still be there.”
“Still think it’s because he doesn’t have the mohawk?”
“I’m getting the idiot a wing from party city and gluing it to his head next time he tries to fight me,” Simon grumbled with a smirk under the mask. Price could see it, even if he couldn’t see it.
It was sad humor before John gave him a nice little love tap before going to bed.
The rest of the night was quiet. Johnny was wheeled to his room, legs aching from weak muscles and hands shaking from gripping things. He didn’t sleep. For now, he has the drive to keep going. A newfound understanding for his new chance. A second one. He took the large oversized and overly thick pencil from the best side and the giant clipboard. Hands shaking in attempts to grip them.
“Come on, Johnny.” He mumbled to himself, resting the clipboard and paper on his thighs. He took the kiddy pencil in his right hand.
His grip faltered a lot. He worked to even put enough pressure against the paper to draw a line.
Then a line turned into squiggles.
Squiggles turned into a name that looked like it was written by a toddler, but it was a name. It was his name. He put it all on his bedside table and picked up his old journal.
He gingerly flipped through the sketches and words.
Why had he given up on being an artist? Why had he let it go completely and only continued as a hobby? He had been an Advanced Art Student in school as a boy, how could he let it go? How could he have taken it for granted?
He ran his fingers over the pages. He laid it in front of him lower on his thighs, bringing the clipboard and pencil back, flipping to a new blank page. He groaned at how run down the pencil was, he’d need someone to sharpen it soon.
He weakly gripped the pencil so it was vaguely horizontal with the blank paper.
“Come on, Soap, ya wee bastard. Just do it like you always did.” He mumbled, hands shaking as he tried to touch the pencil to the paper.
He made sure the lines were faint, going over it 3 or 4 times to create darker ones to make sure it was all in the shapes he wanted. He tried to copy an old sketch of his red skull mask.
It was clunky. Looked like bad cubism mixed with a toddler's hand turkey if that were possible. He worked on it all night. Copying it until his pencil was worn well to the wood.
When the nurses came to wake him the next morning, they found him asleep lightly holding the pencil with his journal and clipboard on his lap.
One of the nurses snagged a photo of it, all the scattered copies around his bed and beside it, sending them to Price’s niece, who was listed as the emergency contact. It wasn’t proper and the nurse knew that but they figured the family would want to see such progress.
She had sent the images to Simon, telling him to bring Soap his sharpener, and more big pencils. Simon was scheduled to be Soap’s first visitor of the day, taking to rotations on days that weren’t PT days made it easier on them all.
Price was usually the last visitor.
In a way, he blamed himself more than Simon ever could. He gave the two that mission, let them take it on. Let them get lost. Let them get pinned down.
He stopped Johnny from shooting the fucker when they had the chance.
It was more than easy to see that Price dreamed of being a family man- craving two or three kids to come home to, a dog, a white picket fence, and a missus to keep his life in order. Sadly, it was a dream he gave up on a long time ago.
In a way, he did have three kids. Three boys he adopted risk their lives day in and day out for the safety of others - it made him prouder than anything. It was hard knowing that Soap- John MacTavish- had no known family. No real family to take care of him. No one to notify if anything happened.
Price had tried too, using what samples the military had from him to find any family.
What Price found broke his heart. All he learned was that Johnny had been an orphan since he was a kid. His parents were lost in a car accident, t-boned by a super speeder at an intersection. Johnny had been home with a babysitter, still practically a baby. He did his best to find other relatives, but none knew of Johnny, all were too distant.
In a lot of ways, he looked at Johnny and saw his son. Johnny had always made him proud since the day Price first met him. Johnny had always been willing to go the extra mile to be the best.
Laswell jokingly called Johnny ‘Junior’ to Price. She saw a lot of resemblance to a younger Price in the Sergeant.
She found Captain Price sitting outside Johnny’s room, he was clearly deep in thought as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“He’s tough as nails, John, he’ll pull through.” She said, sitting next to the Captain.
John pulled off his hat, holding it in his hands as he slouched forward. He braced himself with his forearms against his thighs.
“Can’t help the worry.” John mumbled.
“He’s getting better.”
“It’s taking so long.”
“Healing from anything takes time, especially something physical and mental like this.”
“He didn’t deserve it.”
“No one said he did.”
Laswell gently rubbed circles on John’s back. “No one believes he did,” she mumbled again.
“Terrible things happen to the best of people, the ones who deserve it least especially.” She said, watching the tears bead up on his lashes as he tried to blink them away.
“Blaming yourself for this isn’t what happened, no one on the team is at fault. No one could have known what would happen next.”
“I should have let him shoot the bastard,” Price mumbled, his hand moving up to hold his forehead. Trying to cover where the tears fell down his cheeks before getting lost in his beard.
“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing then what you know now.”
Price sighed.
“You can’t, John.”
“I gotta ask myself if it should have been me,” John mumbled against quivering lips.
“Everything happens for a reason.”
He stayed silent as she kept up her circles on his back before she stood up to go.
“If you can’t be strong for yourself, be strong for the kid.”
Gaz sat quietly in Johnny’s room. He had never been much of an artist so Johnny figured they could both learn as he relearned.
Gaz held up a poorly drawn humvee, “remember the time we superglued the zipper to Price’s sleeping bag and because he always had it all the way up he got stuck and Ghost had to cut him out of it?”
“Yeah,” Johnny gave a chuckle, “remember the time when we made a bet that whoever couldn’t get the nurse’s number from Alejandro’s base had to buy the rounds at the pub when we got home?”
“I remember us both losing.”
“She didn’t have a wedding ring, I didn’t know she was married!” Johnny laughed, holding up his crudely drawn humvee. Johnny snorted, “Looks like we’d be great cubists.”
Gaz cocked a brow.
“It’s an abstract art style, looks goofy. It’s the one famous artists do when they get lazy after becoming famous for super detailed work. They just slapped a name on laziness.” Soap snorted, “reminds me of my hot art teacher from school. What I would have even for a chance with that braw lookin lass as a 13 year old.”
“We all had those teachers, mate.” Kyle laughed. “Had a Spanish teacher with big ones,” he said, holding his hands in front of his chest, “I learned nothing in that class.”
Kyle clapped him on the shoulder as they both laughed. Then a silence fell.
“Next time I may just be wheeling behind you as we make our great escapes.”
“How about I push you instead,” Kyle said, holding out his fist for Johnny to pump.
And he did, weakly. But it was far from the amount of shaking it would have taken him to hold a fist weeks ago, or a month ago when the process started.
Johnny held out five folded pictures to Gaz, “been working hard on ‘em, they’re labeled.”
Gaz nodded and gave him a hug with a chuckle, “I’ll make sure they get to the right people. Get some rest, dishy lad.”
It didn’t hurt as bad for Kyle to be around Johnny.
Kyle was grateful for that, he had his buddy back.
He shuffled through the folded paper in his hands.
One for himself, Simon, Price, Laswell, and Price’s niece.
He patted Price’s back, “ready to head back?”
“How is he?”
“In a much better humor than a month ago, even has gifts for us.” Gaz said, holding up the papers.
When they got back to the waiting room, Gaz dished them out.
Each slowly unfolded the papers with their names on it. Price’s niece was the first to get her’s open, a soft gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes began to tear up.
It was a sketch of her standing between Price and Laswell from when she was first introduced, the paper had clearly been torn from a journal. A second paper fell to the floor from behind it and she snatched it up before it hit the floor. It was a copy of the image, its lines were sharky and it was clearly one of the blank printer paper sheets they had given him to practice writing on, but the image was pretty close to the same.
‘Always thought you were such a bonnie lass, hope my bad attitude didn’t scare you off.
-Johnny’ was written in the bottom corner of the page with a small heart. The writing was as shaky as the art but it didn’t stop her flushed face and her shocked tears that threatened to fall.
Simon hadn’t intended to open his until he got back to his own barracks, but when he peered over and saw the niece’s he could help himself.
“What did the jammy bastard do now,” Simon grumbled. Eyes going wide as a photo of him and Johnny on their skull masks fell out. A polaroid Alejandro had taken with a camera they found. Simon told him to burn it. Apparently, he never saw Johnny slip it into his gear. An older sketch of it Johnny had done and a small scratchy sketch in there too.
‘Remember when Gaz and I tried to see how many of your stupid masks we could steal before you got mad when we were new on the squad? I remember you waited us out until we had to get the baklava off your face. The ass kicking you gave me for coming close to getting it in your sleep definitely scared me straight.
-Johnny’ Simon ran his fingers over the scratchy words before folding it up for safe keeping. He’d give Johnny back his polaroid later.
Price’s was a sketch of the photo they took before their first 141 mission, it always sat on his desk in his office. An old one he had done probably a year ago and a new one.
‘Couldn’t have asked for a better CO. Thank you Captain. We had a good run.
PS: I knew I was always your favorite sergeant, I didn’t tell Kyle though.
-Johnny’
Price didn’t even register the tear sliding into his beard and the sad chuckle that left his lips.
Laswell unfolded hers, it was a drawing of her and John from the back and her with her elbow on his much taller shoulder.
‘Make sure my team doesn’t get into too much trouble. I won’t be there to bite the next bullet for them.
-Johnny MacTavish’
Laswell gently held the two sketches side by side, chuckling at his terrible joke about his situation. It was from the day Price made Kyle do a pushup for every tooth in the zipper of the sleeping bag because he took the fall for the prank. He made Johnny and Simon stand behind them and watch so they knew what would happen if they messed around. Laswell laughed fondly at the memory, it was a bittersweet chuckle.
Gaz was the last to open his. Softly unfolding the papers. The sketches were of an old selfie they took from the time they were stationed at the same base for training. The rest of the recruits behind them and the two made overly dramatic shocked faces with Soap - with Johnny pointing at the angry General staring at them. The new shaking sketch only focused on himself and Johnny and their stupid faces. A reference to a terrible meme they had seen earlier. He remembered fondly that one of the sergeants on base made them mop the rain outside that afternoon because they had already pissed off the General before that morning at breakfast. He forgot how he really only talked to Johnny at training, Johnny starting just after him.
‘Don’t forget to consult me on any base antics, I still have plenty of ideas. Bonus points if you guilt trip Price and tell him you’re doing it in my honor when he tries to get you in trouble.
-Johnny’
They all sat there quietly before saying goodbyes, going their separate ways.
Price’s niece slipped away back towards Johnny’s room with a knock, earning a, “come in.”
“Hey Johnny,” she said, moving to where he patted her at the edge of his bed, near his hips. “I had no clue you did so many sketches.”
“Had to fill my free time somehow, you can only walk around the base so many times before you lose your mind.”
“They’re beautiful, both of them.” She said softly, looking at them again, “I had no clue you drew me.”
“Woulda done it like one ‘a my french girls but yer uncle didn’t like the idea.” He chuckled, cut off by her planting a soft kiss on his temple. She held his chin with her hand gently, thumb dragging lightly over his lower lip. His face flushed as she treated him like glass.
“No sassy retort?” She asked with a giggle. Face not far from his.
“I got brain damage, lass, and out of practice, gotta give me time to get back in my groove,” he chuckled. “Also, ya missed.”
“What do you mean I missed?”
“I’ll show ya,” he said, planting a kiss on her lips. It was quick, testing the waters, making her face flush and her eyes widen. “So glad yer uncle won’t yell at me now for this, been waiting a while for this chance.” Johnny pressed another kiss with more pressure as she giggled against his lips. “Promise to make sure I don’t eat Mexican so wipin’ my arse ain’t so bad.”
“Again with the wiping the ass thing?”
“Just gotta remind you what ya signed up for,” he said with a chuckle, planting a lingering kiss at the corner of her mouth.
Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see! Also Comments are always appreciated! I love hearing from yall!
206 notes · View notes
Text
An Odd Request
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Word count: roughly 1K
Steve’s wife goes to the gym and makes an odd request when she arrives home. 
Warnings: sorta NSFW (mdni), use of Y/N, terms of endearment (baby).
Author’s note: This is just fluffy Steve and was written directly after I got home from the gym needing this man and a very specific kind of cuddling so…here it is! Short and sweet and very silly. Hope y’all enjoy! 
Tumblr media
It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Harrington household. Steve was the only one home, having a few hours on his own as Y/N went to meet her personal trainer. She had been seeing a trainer for a while as she, quote on quote, wanted “to be able to carry all the groceries in a single trip all by myself.” A noble and worthy cause in Steve’s eyes and yet as long as he was around, she’d never have to lift a finger. He was more than content to show off his own strength for her enjoyment…and yet wished to support her in any and all of her goals so off to the gym she had gone. As such, he had the home to himself for a few hours, a chance to get some work done. 
He had spent most of the morning thus far drinking his coffee and sketching up new basketball drills and formations for the middle school team he coached. He finally understood exactly what Hopper had meant all those years ago about “coffee and contemplation” finding more and more that the man’s wisdom was never ending the older he got. We’ve gotta tighten up their current formations, he thought as the TV played some mindless sitcom in the background while he chewed on the end of his pencil. His mind looked over the squiggles on the paper in front of him trying to decide how to fix this. It had been weeks since they had won a game and morale was dropping fast. Jamie has to pass more but Donovan can’t really shoot…maybe if we move Paul to center and then swap Jordan and Cole we could-
The man wasn’t given another moment to think as he heard the front door open and close with a loud slam, the sound of feet padding their way down the entry hallway. 
“Hey, baby!” Steve called as he continued to focus on the squiggles, drawing a few more lines before erasing them with equally as much vigor, “How was the gym?” A loud groan was all he received in reply as his wife dropped her bag to the ground and kicked off her tennis shoes, not even bothering to put them in the basket where she knew they belonged. The same basket she insisted his shoes lived in but rules didn’t apply to her, at least not right now. I’ll tease her about it later. “That good huh?” He called with a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well your protein shake is in the fridge. Should be cold enough since I put it in when you left.” Oddly enough, the man received no response. He waited a moment before he called again, looking up from his work.
“Bab-” And just like that she was in front of him. He jumped and let out a quiet swear as he clutched a hand to his chest. He hadn’t seen her before she had left and found himself taking a sharp inhale as he looked her up and down. She looked so fucking gorgeous in those tight black leggings that fit her just right, a simple white workout top, hugging her every curve, and the expensive black workout jacket he had saved up to get her for Christmas that she never left for the gym without. Not to mention the way her hair looked post-workout and the glow of sweat that radiated off of her. He was about to open his mouth to make some lewd remark he hoped she’d find charming but-
“Hold my tits.” The man blinked once, then again, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. 
“W-what?” 
“I want your hands on my tits,” Y/N repeated, holding his gaze with complete and utter seriousness, “Please.” 
“Like…you want my…”
“Your hands. On my tits. Now.” When the man continued not to move his wife let out a deep sigh and took the pencil from his hand, laying it down next to his sketch as she replaced it with something much better. She led his large palm gently to her breast, letting out a sigh of relief as she encouraged him to give a little squeeze. Again, Steve didn’t even know what to do, never having seen her like this. Sure, she was usually a little more cuddly and blissed out after the gym as the endorphins ran through her body but this was…new. A good kind of new. 
“So I take it you had a good time at the gym?” The man teased breathlessly as he ushered her around the coffee table to sit beside him on the couch. The woman let out a hum in confirmation as she laid down so they were pressed together, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her so his hands could live right where she needed them to. Another chuckle came from Steve as he buried his face into her hair finding-
“Did you put on perfume?” 
“After working out,” she whispered as her eyes closed shut in complete and utter satisfaction, being held just the way she needed to be right now, “Didn’t want to come home smelling only like sweat.”
“I don’t mind,” Steve used his nose to brush the hair from the side of her neck, making her giggle as he pressed mindless kisses there, “I smell like sweat all the time and you still love me.” 
“I do,” Y/N titled her head so he could press a kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly before laying her head back down on the couch, “Fuck, I’m never doing the Stairmaster ever again.” 
“Y/N, baby, if this,” Steve gave her tits a little squeeze to punctuate his thought, “is what happens after you’re on the Stairmaster, by all means, keep doing it. Any excuse to cuddle with my pretty little wife and hold her boobies is more than fine by me.” 
“Don’t call them that,” Y/N scrunched her nose with a chuckle as she pressed her ass more into him to fit them closer together. 
“What?” The man teased giving another squeeze, “Boobies?” 
“STEVE!” The couple dissolved into a communal fit of giggles as they lay there together, all stress and strain completely forgotten as calm domesticity filled their hearts and home. 
170 notes · View notes