#but this guy has been rotating in my head and so i end up drawing him whenever i have time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

greedy | myg x reader | chapter one: you like milkshakes?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now. until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.3K

notes: confession, i am struggling these days with my insane attraction to min yoongi. this guy has it all. looks and talent and mystery and sweetness -- he’s the total package. so i really wanted to give him a story in this AU that i’ve come to love so much and i truly hope you guys enjoy it.

i also hope you guys know how much i appreciate every single one of you. i see your reblogs and comments and likes and i try to answer every one because it truly makes my day. you guys make my day.

i could not post this fic without shouting out the amazing @hobi-gif because honestly, if hope didn’t read it, did i even write it? and i’m sending major love to three people who are such a source of laughter and support for me, @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland. you guys keep me in stitches.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece! Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

*************************

Yoongi had fucked up.

He’d misread the massive man’s approach, tracking him in one direction when the guy was actually headed in another. That’s how the asshole managed to catch Yoongi off guard with one meaty fist to the face.

It didn’t matter that it was hundreds of pounds of fat -- not muscle -- behind that punch. It was wielding more than enough momentum to blow up the side of Yoongi’s face like a bomb.

That’s the night he landed in the ER at Songdo at nearly two in the morning, pressing gauze to his bleeding face.

That’s the night he found himself chuckling inside an empty exam room, reading triage paperwork that made him sound like some kind of war hero instead of just an idiot who got caught looking the wrong way.

That’s the night he met you.

“Rough evening, Mister Yun?”

Yoongi had looked up from the floor just as you’d breezed into the room, tablet in hand. That moment marked the second time he’d been caught off guard that night.

“That looks like it hurts,” you’d murmured sympathetically, eyes raking over the bloody mess on his face. Your gaze was clinical -- professional -- as you assessed his grossly swollen eye and the half dozen bleeding cuts that surrounded it.

But then you’d stopped looking at him -- and stepped back to really look at him.

Yoongi had taken one look at your enormous, dark eyes and your soft, sweet face and he was dumbstruck. He’d blinked back at you with the only eye that could still move.

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nope,” you’d replied casually, turning to reach for a pair of latex gloves. “I’m a janitor. But I’ve always wanted to give this medicine thing a try. You don’t mind, right?”

Your eyes had sparkled then, bright with humor -- and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin despite the pain pulsing from the left side of his face.

“Here’s the deal, Mister Yun,” you’d said, pulling on your gloves. “I’m a resident. And I’m more than qualified to handle the -- situation -- on your face, but if you feel more comfortable waiting for the attending, I’m happy to step back. Good luck seeing him before sunrise, though.”

“Nah,” Yoongi had chuckled. “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Good call.”

You’d leaned in close after that, gloved fingers firm under his chin as you turned his face from side to side. You’d smelled fucking amazing. The light, fresh scent that lingered on your skin sure as hell beat the disinfectant odor in this place.

“What happened to you tonight, Mister Yun?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.”

“Oh, great,” you’d said dryly. “‘Cause it turns out, I love funny stories.”

Yoongi had flinched when you’d peeled the gauze back, exposing the angry wounds to the air. But he’d forced himself to sit dutifully still as you got to work cleaning the caked blood off his face and eye.

“Thing is, I work for the circus,” he’d started, hissing under his breath when you swiped across an open cut above his eye. “One of the elephants got rowdy while we were practicing a number tonight and just kicked me right in the face.”

You’d stopped dabbing at his eye then, one brow raised and a cynical slant to your mouth.

Yoongi liked that you knew he was full of shit right away.

He liked that you’d played along anyway.

“God, I hate when that happens,” you’d said with feigned outrage, cutting your eyes at him as you dropped a piece of bloody gauze on the tray at his side.

“I know, right?”

That’s when Yoongi had won a real smile from you, wide and genuine. That's when Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you for just a moment too long.

He knew it by the way your smile fell away as you cleared your throat and turned your focus back to his damaged face.

“Well, I have good news for you Mister Yun,” you’d said after a while, eyes scanning the freshly cleaned wounds. You’d run your gloved fingers gently over one particularly deep slash over his eye and Yoongi felt a shudder run up his back. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to live.”

“Well, that is good news.”

There was that smile again.

It seemed like no time at all before you had him all patched up -- cuts sanitized and sealed with skin adhesive; swollen eye cleaned and medicated. Yoongi had felt a strange kind of disappointment as he’d watched you gather your supplies, pull your gloves off and drop them in the trash can near the door.

“You’re all set, Mister Yun,” you’d murmured. “Watch out for those elephants, okay? I’d hate for them to ruin a perfectly nice face.”

Then you were gone.

***************************

Thing is -- Kim Namjoon is a rules guy.

It doesn’t matter that he runs a criminal organization -- or that the men in his employ are gangsters in custom ties and suits. He expects dirty work done clean because that’s what sets the Gajog apart.

Rotate hospitals. Use fake names. Pay in cash.

All of those protocols are in place to keep any one of the Gajog from drawing unwanted attention. Truthfully, Namjoon’s operations usually run so neatly his men rarely have to seek treatment for anything beyond the occasional black eye or broken bone. That’s why he’d rather trust his men to legitimate doctors in legitimate hospitals than hand them over to some back-alley hack.

Thing is -- shit has gotten a lot more heated of late.

An audit of the Gajog books has turned up millions in missing won, stolen over time by street-level guys all over the city. Yoongi and Hoseok are the ones on the front lines, tasked with confronting those men -- getting them to pay and getting them back in line.

Sometimes they play ball. Sometimes they don’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Yoongi knew the moment they arrived at the crumbling warehouse in the Nowon district that shit was probably going to get messy. Their contact was fucked up -- sloppy drunk -- and belligerent from the jump.

After that, everything was a blur.

At some point during the scuffle, Yoongi heard his hand crunch under the heavy weight of the man’s steel-toed boot. The pain was still flaring hot from his knuckles when Hoseok finally took the guy down.

Right now Yoongi should be at Asan or Gachon or any of the other half-dozen hospitals in the city. He should have dragged his tired ass and bloody hand across town because those are the rules.

But instead -- for the second time in a month -- he’s sitting under the sickly fluorescent lights in an empty exam room at Songdo at nearly three in the morning.

Hoping to see you.

*************************

Yoongi is gingerly flexing his aching fingers when a light knock sounds at the door.

It was a long shot that you’d be here tonight -- and an even longer shot that you’d be the one treating him. But when the door to the exam room opens, it’s you on the other side.

Yoongi’s pulse picks up in response.

“Sorry to keep you waiting tonight Mister -- ” you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide on his before darting back down the tablet in your hand. You scan the screen slowly then look back up, gaze critical.

“ -- Mister Woo.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies casually. “It’s no problem.”

You approach him slowly then, disbelief etched into your delicate features and Yoongi takes in every detail.

It’s like he’d forgotten how pretty you are since the last time he saw you.

You’re nothing like the flashy women who like to hang around the usual Gajog haunts. You’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of won a month to maintain. The kind of pretty that doesn’t come off at the end of the night.

Yoongi swallows thickly as you eye him, lips parted like you’re about to fire off a hundred different questions. But you don’t.

You play along.

Again.

“Right. Let’s get to it then, Mister Woo,” you say carefully, slipping on your gloves. “What happened to your hand?”

“Well, you see, I’m a hot air balloon operator.”

His mouth quirks into a smile and your eyes flash in response.

“Wind was nuts today and the basket came down on my hand. I think I might have broken something.”

“Hmm,” you murmur. “Hot air balloon operator, huh?”

Yoongi winces when you take his hand between your gloved ones, gently applying pressure to each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

“That’s an interesting way to make a living, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi chokes down a groan when you press against one particularly sore spot. You back off the pressure, turning to make a note on your chart.

“Well, I’m an interesting guy,” he whispers.

You look up at him then, dark eyes focused and intense.

“That you are.”

You’re looking at Yoongi like you can see inside him and the scrutiny makes him squirm. He lowers his eyes to the floor and keeps quiet while you clean his hand and apply ointment to his cuts.

“Mister Woo, it looks like most of these are surface abrasions, but the knuckles concern me. I’m going to have to send you for an X-ray.”

“Yeah, okay. It hurts like hell.”

“I bet it does,” you say quietly, typing into your tablet. “Someone is going to come and take you back when they’re ready. I have to go check on some other patients, but I’ll be back when we have some images to go over.”

“Sure,” Yoongi breathes.

You take another long look at him before standing to leave and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s misread you like he misread that brawler who caught him with the nasty punch all those weeks ago.

You could be off to flag a security guard. Or leaving to call the police.

He really should have just followed protocol.

Yoongi sits in the quiet of that exam room waiting -- ready -- for trouble that never comes. Because when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not the Korean National Police.

It’s the X-ray technician.

Maybe he didn’t misread you after all.

*********************

It takes hours for you to come back.

“Mixed news tonight, Mister Woo,” you say upon your return. “You have hairline fractures in three of your knuckles, which explains the pain. Unfortunately, that means I’m not going to be able to do much for you beyond wrapping your hand.”

Yoongi nods. “Got it.”

“And you should probably lay off the ballooning for a while,” you say under your breath as you lay out your bandages. “Just a suggestion.”

“Good idea,” Yoongi chuckles. “Safety first.”

You fix him with another one of those long, indecipherable looks before getting to work on his hand. But you don’t say anything and the longer the silence stretches on, the antsier Yoongi feels.

“So…” he exhales, clearing his throat, “... you like milkshakes?”

“Everyone likes milkshakes,” you return evenly. You don’t take your eyes off his hand or the flexible material you’re carefully wrapping around his sore knuckles.

“Lactose intolerant people don’t like milkshakes.”

“Lactose intolerant people like milkshakes as much as the rest of us,” you argue. “They just can’t tolerate them.”

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”

Your lips quirk with the threat of a laugh you manage to suppress but Yoongi catches the expression before it disappears. You seem to relax after that. He does, too.

“Dijeoteu has the best milkshakes in the city. Ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you admit, taping off a bandage.

“It’s not far from here. Open twenty-four hours. I hang out there sometimes.”

“So you’re a milkshake-drinking hot-air balloon enthusiast,” you murmur, inspecting your handiwork closely. “Anything else I should know about you, Mister Woo?’

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Not really. That about covers it.”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath as you finish wrapping the bruised knuckles.

“All done. How does it feel?”

“Better,” Yoongi admits. “Thanks.”

You gaze at him then, thoughtful -- expression soft with something that looks almost like concern. Yoongi drops his gaze down to his bandaged hand.

This is the part where you’ve finished -- the part where you leave.

This is the part where he should say something to you but he has no idea what or how.

“I would say come back soon, but this is a hospital and that seems wildly inappropriate,” you announce, voice breaking clear through his stupor.

You turn back to him just as you’re walking towards the door, and for a moment Yoongi thinks you’re going to give in and ask him any one of the dozens of questions that must be swirling around your mind.

But you don’t.

“Try to take care of that hand, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi nods.

“Thanks, Doc.”

**********************

YOU

Doctor Lee is on his Houdini shit tonight, apparently.

The ER is packed -- waiting room crowded with crabby patients -- and you are, once again, running yourself ragged to get to every last one. Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

“Page him again,” you call out as you pass the charge nurse outside an exam room.

A quick scan of your tablet confirms the toddler behind this magic door has been vomiting all night. You shut your eyes and wish a slow, violent death on your absent attending. Vomit is the single worst phenomenon in medicine.

“I’ve paged him three times,” Nurse Ko calls back.

“Page him again,” you repeat, forcing a smile and pushing into the room.

Thirty minutes and one change of scrubs later you are checking charts on the next patient in line. You pat the pocket of your new scrubs and realize you’ve left a half-eaten energy bar around here somewhere.

No chance you’ll get that back.

Lee picks this moment to reappear, back from doing God knows what. He strolls down the hallway like a man with nothing on his to-do list.

“You paged for me?” he inquires casually.

“A few times, actually,” you mutter. “I’m getting killed out here.”

“Relax,” Lee purrs, condescension dripping from his tone. “We’ll get it done.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from firing back the half-dozen nasty responses that spring to mind. There is no we when it comes to Doctor Lee. He’s always been flighty and inconsistent, but these days he’s practically a missing person. You’re still not sure how hospital management hasn’t figured out that he’s making his resident run the overnight ER.

“There’s a guy down the hall who says he swallowed a magnet,” you say, waving a hand in that direction. “If you can pick him up I can get to this head trauma.”

Lee sighs like it’s a major inconvenience that you’ve asked him to do his job.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it.”

***********************

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time you have a chance to catch your breath.

You walk out to scan the waiting area and to your relief, there are only a handful of patients yet to be seen. Then your eyes land on one young man -- slumped into a chair in an oversized coat, hat pulled low over his eyes.

You freeze.

The man in the chair must feel your stare from across the room because he straightens, giving you a better look at the face hidden under the brim of his hat. You let go of a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding.

It’s not him.

It’s not the mysterious man with the fake names and the bogus stories and the insanely handsome face. You shake your head as you look back down at your tablet, silently chastising yourself for even entertaining the thought.

You shouldn’t still be thinking about this guy and you know it.

But it’s driving you nuts that you can’t figure him out.

He’s never tried to play you for pills and that seems to be the only thing people lie about these days. But if his problem isn’t drugs it’s certainly something because no one lands in the hospital that many times, with that many phoney stories unless they’re up to no good.

So you ignore the nonsensical disappointment you feel when the guy in that chair is not the guy.

Because deep down you know he’s either in trouble -- or he is trouble.

***********************

Your pager goes off for a second time and you silence the alert, tossing it onto a nearby blanket.

It’s not like you’re hiding out in here -- not really.

It’s just that you’ve already had one patient cough up blood on your sneakers and another swing at you when you refused to give him narcotics, so this night is off to a spectacularly bad start.

Besides, Doctor Lee could use a taste of his own medicine.

This week has been the worst, by far. You’ve been seeing at least three patients to his every one and you’re exhausted. If there’s any justice, he’s walking into the exam room where the infant with explosive diarrhea is waiting to be seen -- you check your watch -- right about now.

The door to the linen closet cracks open and you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“What, you thought I didn’t know about your little hiding place?” Nurse Ko asks with a grin. “I find everyone’s hiding place, eventually.”

“Haven’t found Lee’s yet,” you gripe.

“Yeah, well he’s sneakier,” she laughs. “Here, I brought you something.”

She tosses a granola bar at you and it lands in your lap.

“Thanks,” you sigh, ripping it open. You take a bite and Ko leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t page you for my health, you know.”

“I know,” you whine around a mouthful of dried oats. “I just needed five minutes.”

“Well, I’ve got a guy out here who says he’ll only see you. Doesn’t want Doctor Lee and says he’ll wait as long as it takes.”

A piece of the granola bar lodges in your throat and you cough around it, spluttering while Ko looks on, amused. She waits for you to collect yourself.

“Is he -- ”

“ -- hot? Yes. Very,” Ko smiles.

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment at both the observation and the fact that it’s coming from a woman in her sixties.

“I was going to say young,” you grumble, standing and dusting your hands off with a towel.

“That, too. Come to think of it, I know I’ve seen him here before. You have some kind of admirer, jagiya?”

You flush.

**************************

“Good evening, Mister Kim.”

You hope the air of nonchalance you affect when you enter the exam room is enough to mask your jitters.

Your mystery patient looks back at you with those dark eyes and a half-smirk that makes your heart trip in your chest. You take a steadying breath as you look down at your tablet.

Get it together, girl.

“What brings you in tonight?” you inquire lightly. “Sword-swallowing accident? Lose a fist fight with a bear?”

Your mysterious patient chuckles under his breath.

“Where would you get a couple of outlandish ideas like that, Doc?”

You look up at him just as the teasing smirk on his face becomes a full smile and heat blooms in your chest and face. You force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“I dislocated my shoulder. Did you know I work air traffic control at Incheon?”

You shake your head with amused weariness as you make notes on your tablet.

“Crazy night. One of the planes nearly slid off the runway and I threw my shoulder out trying to get it back on track.”

“Did you save it?”

“Saved it and all 227 people on board.”

“Bravo, Mister Kim.”

“Just doing my job,” he shrugs.

You set your tablet down on the exam table with a thump, eyeing him as you reach for a pair of gloves.

“The charge nurse says you asked for me.”

“I did,” he admits. “You never told me what your favorite kind of milkshake is.”

You cock your head to the side as you look at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Kim,” you murmur, feigning ignorance. “According to my records this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“Oh, yeah. Right,” he chuckles.

“You need some help getting undressed?”

“Yeah,” he admits, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket. You lean in to help him pull the other side off, compelling yourself to ignore the way he smells like soap and sweat and man when you’re this close.

“It’s strawberry.”

You blurt the words out, anxious to give your brain a task that doesn’t involve analyzing this man’s smell. Something about the mischievous twist to his mouth tells you he knows you’re flustered by his nearness.

“I would have guessed chocolate,” he muses, reaching one hand down to grab the hem of his shirt. He drags it up his abdomen and you will your eyes to stay on his face -- refusing to give him any indication that you have more than a clinical interest in what lies underneath.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” you argue, taking over when he can’t get the shirt up any higher. You push it over his head and carefully work it off his shoulder. “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Mission accomplished, Doc.”

He gazes at you then -- chest bare and eyes sharp beneath those inky lashes -- and you feel a bolt of awareness run the length of your spine. You pray the heat you suddenly feel all over your body is not manifesting in damning spots of color on your face.

You remind yourself to get back to work.

He sucks a breath between his teeth when you press gently against the inflamed muscle and tissue.

“My shoulder’s been shit for years,” he confesses. “I screwed it up when I was a kid and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“So this happens to you from time to time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m going to have to refer you for an MRI,” you say, and he groans when you press into his shoulder again. “There could be a lot of scar tissue in here, but I won’t be able to know what’s going on until we get some clear scans.”

Your eyes flick back to his.

Every word that’s ever come out of this man’s mouth is a lie -- but there’s something that feels honest about the way he’s looking at you right now. Something that makes you feel seasick, unsteady.

“Turn to the side for me,” you say quietly, and the thin paper that lines the exam table rustles as he complies. The relief you feel when he pivots away from you with those eyes and that look is whole-bodied.

“For now, the best I can do is probably pop -- “

Your words trail off as your eyes lock on a wound that sits just a few inches from his spine, just above the line of his jeans. The edges are white and soft with age -- the area long-healed -- but the trauma is unmistakable.

Textbook.

The anger you feel as you stare at the wound doesn’t make any sense.

But you feel it anyway.

“Is it still inside of you, or did they pull it out?”

“What -- ”

“-- The bullet Mister Kim,” you interrupt sharply. “If it’s still in you, I promise it will come out the second they load you into an MRI machine. The hard way.”

The muscles of his back flex as he stiffens. Tension bleeds into the lines of his body and into his voice when he finally speaks.

“It’s out.”

Neither of you says another word.

The room feels hollow now, painfully quiet without talk of elephants or hot air balloons or milkshakes. The two of you work together silently to crack his abused shoulder back into place. Somehow he manages to endure that pain without making a sound.

In the end, it’s you that has to speak first.

“That should hold you for now,” you say tightly, standing to toss your gloves in the trash. You grab your tablet to make notes.

“You mad at me, Doc?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter, fingers flying over your screen. “I don’t even know you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me?”

You tear your eyes away from the screen to find his.

There’s no teasing or humor there anymore. He looks boyish and unsure like this, peering back at you with somber eyes from beneath long black bangs that have fallen into his face.

“No more stories, no more bullshit. Tell me who you are.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think better of them -- before you can consider how stupid it is to interrogate a complete stranger with a now confirmed history of violence. Before you can consider that you have no right to the anger that now streaks white-hot through your veins.

“I can’t,” he breathes quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“Are you dangerous?”

Before he even speaks, you get your answer. You get it in the way color erupts across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. The way he looks away from you and down to his hands.

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he whispers.

“I’m asking you,” you fire back.

He doesn’t answer.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for him to say something in his defense. Waiting for him to pull another gag and tell just one more ridiculous story. But the seconds tick by and he says nothing.

“A nurse is going to come by with a sling. She’ll help you get dressed, too,” you say tightly, walking to the door.

You don’t know why your heart feels like it seizes in your chest when you turn to give him one more look.

“Take care of yourself, Mister Kim,” you say quietly. “And don’t come back.”

*****************************

Glossary:

Dijeoteu: dessert

Jagiya: sweetie, sweetheart

*****************************

Tag List!

@heroesfan101 @kpop-saved-ruinedme @mono-kookie @ctvrty @bluewhale52 @thenopekid @uhgood-dooghu @youwannabelostandnotbefound @yiyi4657 @daydreambrliever @mstbeautifulmmt @darktsuki0 @mademysongtakeflight @fireflyinsummer @paperpurple @btseditsworld @outrofenty @taestannie @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @snackhobi

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi mafia #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet

2K notes · View notes

its3oe · 2 years

Text

Extremely lengthy post ahead. Proceed with caution. It’s just another one of me talking about why I’ve grown tired with social media and am still working very hard to sever its cord wrapped around my neck. And why you could too. If you wanted. This is going to be the last one though I promise

Obviously I like, don't have a problem with people who do create and consume and all of those other potential modes of interaction with Art and Creation in this way I am about to describe so as to word why I personally find myself unable to subscribe to caring about it. But I figure it's wise enough to give my "I completely understand and respect this and think that's great as long as you're having fun" disclaimer as people on-line are prone to touchiness and upset when faced with this discussion, for whatever number of reasons, that I do not want to draw to myself unnecessarily. But I also find it very relieving and like I can find a little bit of a break from my neuroticisms and extremely slow journey from trying to un-train myself from an obsession with being social media optimized and well-liked and whatever other shit, when, people express similarly their thoughts on creation and consumption and the shrink-wrapping of that process around a very specific mold on the Internet. These sentences are way too fucking long here but I cannot find it in me to rephrase more concisely. Sorry. But. ANYWAYS:

It's quite disheartening to me, often, seeing the internet continuously trend towards like. Being a 10,000 follower fandom/OC artist being the ultimate end-goal. And people within these shrink-molded circles and communities Only consuming this kind of art and that being what Art is immediately to them. Like. I don't know there's something a little sad about it to me. I have found myself over the years (Extremely fucked up in the head guy talking here. Not that anybody's entitled to know how I am but like, there are also plenty of other people with similar -oses and -isms so I'm not worried about vaguely mentioning this to blame Myself a bit more for my situation and not Everyone on the internet because that'd be a stupid thing to say) feeling extremely pressured to conform to the standard of like, cutesy clean art or the Voltron & She-Ra Remake style or (and once more no offense intended to those who enjoy these things) Blorbo Garfield Worm on a String Rotating Fanartist or some combination or mutation thereof those and more. And for quite some time I did try my hardest to squeeze in there somehow before completely breaking down and realizing it was like. Melting my brain and that it's not actually what I wanted to do, it was just what I felt like everybody else expected of me and wanted to see of me. So that's what I did for that huge chunk of my life where I was really just initially learning how to draw and it got a bunch of insane habits jammed directly into my grey matter.

And so, after this realization happened 3 or so years ago I have since been trying to shed these ideas and, more recently, within the past year or so, I've started to see more people crop up with ideas of "Wow! This really sucks dick! I don't want to do this anymore either! I do not want to be a Content Creator or Consumed through this venue of Posts that mean little to nothing in the grand scheme of things, and especially to me personally!" and it's given me a little bit more of a drive to work harder at trying to make the weirder shit I actually want to instead of letting my insane insecurities and other worries get to me. That I am now moving towards circles where I actually see people who think similarly to me. I still have an extremely long way to go but. Obviously some people are content with doing that sort of thing forever and the more power to them, but, other people feeding into that as The Standard has, evidently, sort of fucked me and a number of other people up. My point here is not that everybody has to want to make big personal projects to be Le Real artists because that's divisive for no good reason, but that I truly do want to make comics or films or games (Sorry) or otherwise stories in weird ways that may be hard to understand or consume and take more...Effort. To look at and really absorb. Because that is really always what I have wanted to do with myself and is what sits with me at my core about Creation.

And it's funny, because, like, another huge portion of what's held me back from that is that portions of the internet also insist that you have to have a gorillion followers and 40+ engagement crystals and Patreon money enough to pay rent twice over to have made anything worthwhile. And that's gotten ingrained into me. Like. Fuck when I was a wee 13 years old I was one of those reblogs>likes people before I realized that is also only conducive to people ignoring you even more for devaluing clicking one Acknowledgement button and not the other and also that it doesn't matter anyways. I would still be happier with myself if I were actually able to see one of my tangled up mushy projects spat up into existence and had only 50 followers and one of them decided to check it out and really make an attempt to engage with it over 5000 that only want stuff that looks cute on their blog. I'd be more broke, sure, (Thank you also for 1700 followers and all of my commissioners. I love U.) but. And this really is like, the broke tortured artist corny ultimate thing to say, I would feel more fulfilled as a person. That I did something I wanted to and that That effort was viewed with intent by another.

This is getting really long now So I will leave off with: I have weird shit to make that has things to say and requires a deeper level of engagement than Social Media provides and I am still, really, working incredibly hard to get to a point where I will be able to actually carry it all out. Some of this, at present, is immutable due to circumstances in my life out of my control. But the parts that I actually can change I am choosing to grab with gusto and wring all of the blood out so I can put, um, more blood in. But blood with a sense of purpose and within "blood sweat and tears" as opposed to meaningless hemorrhaging of blood to mean the reasons I create in the first place that have just left me hollow and unsatisfied. And well. If you want to make weird things too and are also sick of social media biting and snapping at anything it can get its teeth in and shaking the life out of it. I less than three you thiiiiiis much. Thumbs up. I'll try to avoid making more posts like this in the future because it really is quite repetitive and I'm aware but I think I'd at least like to have this one up as a summary of why I am so inactive for the past while and what I'm up to. It's the personal demons. And the internet demons. Like from DOOM. My favorite is the Cacodemon.

#long post #not sure if that's repetitive with the readmore but i figure it is a good thing to let filters catch regardless

22 notes · View notes

queensoybean0724 · 3 years

Text

Succession Chapter 4 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Here’s chapter 4!! I hope y'all enjoy it!

Title: Succession Chapter 4

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: PG-13 for language (possible kidnapping trigger warning) this is a slow burn; it will get very smutty and spicy later on!

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter 4

The factory was not a cozy place. The air was stifling and steam rose sporadically from slits in the walls. It was a dark place with sparse light bulbs overhead guiding the way down the halls. Some of the bulbs hung busted and dark. Red lights sat over doorways to show where the exits were or pointing towards the direction of the nearest exit.

You remembered the various turns and doorways so you could easily escape if and when you were given the chance.

Heisenberg kept his grip on your arm tight as he pulled you down the hallway towards his living quarters. He lifted the cigar in his other hand up to his lips, taking a deep puff. You walked through the smoke as he exhaled, unable to stop yourself from enjoying the smell. He stopped before a door at the end of the hall.

“Here we are,” Heisenberg announced, turning the knob to the door. He pushed it open and took a step back, releasing your arm, and allowing you to be the first to step inside. You stood there and gave him a stoic glare.

“Come on...in you go,” he said, his arm coming around behind you and his firm hand connecting to your ass.

“Ouch!” you yelped as the force of the spank pushed you over the threshold.

His living quarters were surprising. In a massive building where everything seemed cold and hard, this room was quite cozy. It was a large room, twice the size of the room he had you locked away in. It was warm due to the small fireplace against the wall. A tiny kitchen area was directly to the right with a sink, countertop, and a stove with an oven on top. Against the far wall was a queen size metal bed with headboard and footboard. Both ends had vertical metal railings. A small nightstand sat next to the bed with a lamp and two books on top. On the other side of the bed was a large dresser with six drawers. Next to that stood a large bathtub along with a full standing shower with head to toe glass walls. You looked to the left and saw a large table that acted as both a dining room and a desk. Papers lay strewn across it along with a dirty plate, dirty mug, and an ashtray..

“This is where you’ll stay...with me…” Heisenberg said, closing and locking the door behind him. You watched as he locked it with a key that he put in his pants pocket. Damn, you thought, no chance getting out without the key.

“And where will I sleep?” you asked...but you dreaded the answer.

“In the bed,” he answered as if you had asked him the stupidest question he had ever heard. You scoffed.

“And where will you sleep?” you asked, dreading that answer even more.

“In...the...bed…” he said, getting closer behind you. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of your hair.

“I am not sleeping in the bed with you!” you firmly stated, turning around to face him head on.

“Well, it’s either in the bed or on the hard floor,” he shrugged, going to his desk and rummaging around the papers with his cigar hanging from his mouth. You looked down at the floor and grimaced. It did not look like it had been swept or cleaned in a very long time.

“You think I’m going to willingly sleep in that bed with you?” you asked in amazement, “what if I try to escape while you sleep? Or what if I try to kill you in your sleep?”

Heisenberg looked at you and let out a loud laugh before walking to the bed. “You truly are a little spitfire, aren’t you?” He bent over the headboard and picked up a long chain with a vice-like contraption that looked like handcuffs. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Do you do this to all the women you bring back here?” you quipped, finding yourself getting more brazen with your words.

“Haven’t had any complaints before,” Heisenberg joked, letting them fall loudly to the floor.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, going towards the table. A drawing was facing up and it looked like sketches of some kind of person. You walked over, your curiosity spiked. As you reached for the paper and the stack of papers beneath it, the dirty plate and mug slid across the table and fell on top of the picture. You yelped and jumped back, turning around towards Heisenberg. His left hand was extended towards the table, his fingers curved as if reaching for something. You looked between him and the plate and mug.

“How are you doing that???” you asked in disbelief, remembering how he seemingly moved the cot telepathically in the other room to stop you from escaping. Heisenberg chuckled and lowered his arm.

“Y/N, you are in a place that defies any laws of physics, genetics, science, or biology....” he said as he shrugged his trenchcoat off his shoulders. He went to the chair next to the table and draped his coat across the back. “I know you are afraid, you are in shock after the crash, and you think I have brought you here to do God only knows what to you...but trust me when I say that this factory is the safest place for you. You have no idea how dangerous it is in the village…”

“And you’re not dangerous? You literally have a giant wheel and conveyor belt full of bodies rotating out there!”

Heisenberg laughed as he sat down on the chair. He rested his elbow on the table and took another drag off his cigar. “Don’t comment on something you know nothing about,” he murmured, “now, I think you should relax and rest your weary head. I’m sure surviving the crash has left you a bit shaken…”

You shook your head defiantly. “No...no, I need to call for help! I was on my way to Moldova...I need to inform them that I’m still alive! There has to be a rescue crew searching for the wreckage...please let me go! Let me call someone!”

Heisenberg continued to smoke his cigar, studying you as you began to panic. “Calm down, doll face,” he said, putting his cigar out in the ashtray, “look...this place isn’t on any map. We are surrounded by mountains, and the only person who comes through here is the Duke when he sells supplies and his wares.”

“The Duke?” you asked, “well...when will he come around again? Could I get a ride with him to the next town and call for help? Or the castle...that Moreau guy said there was a telephone in the castle…”

“You are not stepping one foot out of this place, Y/N, and that is final!” Heisenberg roared, standing to his feet. He took three steps forward, ripping off his sunglasses, and looked down at you. His sudden burst of anger scared you, but something about his eyes made you go still. Yes, they held menace and were threatening...but...it was like he wanted to protect you from something. A tiny glint showed in his gaze as he looked from your eyes to your mouth and back again. You felt your throat go dry and your heart beat increase. You glanced at his mouth and back to his eyes. A soft stirring formed in the pit of your stomach.

Heisenberg put his sunglasses back on and walked towards the table. He cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. Gathering every piece of paper in a pile, he turned back to you. “Your full name is Y/N, right?” he spoke gruffly.

You took steps backwards and sat down on the bed, still shaken by his gaze and closeness. “Yes,” you murmured softly. Heisenberg picked up a pencil and wrote your name on the top paper in the stack.

“I’ll go to the wreckage and see if I can find whatever is left of yours amongst the cargo...maybe a few other suitcases that you might be able to use. In the meantime,” he said, walking to his dresser, “here is an old shirt of mine. Your clothes are covered in dirt and blood…”

You looked down at your clothes and saw that he was right. With all the hell you went through, you didn’t stop to look at how your clothes were riddled with dirt, snow, and blood (both from you and from when the lycans drooled over you.)

He pulled an oversized beige shirt with three buttons at the neckline. He held the shirt out to you and you took it from his grasp. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Heisenberg walked to the door and retrieved his key from his pocket. “You can get water from the tap. There are some books on the table and on the dresser...they aren’t much, but they’ll pass the time until I get back.”

You watched him as he opened the door, stepped out, and closed the door without another word. You continued to sit on the edge of the bed, his shirt in your hand, and your thighs pressed tightly together.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #heisenberg #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg

177 notes · View notes

bakugohoex · 3 years

Text

“you’re such a pretty setter”

pairings: atsumu miya x female reader, eita semi x gender neutral reader, keiji akaashi x female reader, keishin ukai x female reader, kenma kozume x female reader, koshi sugawara x female reader, tobio kageyama x female reader, toru oikawa x female reader cw: swearing, kissing, fluff word count: 4500+ a/n: this took so long, bruh i have to isolate as well which sucks but more time for school work at least, keep sending in requests summary: in which you wait for the setters after practice

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

atsumu miya

Atsumu knew he had fangirls; knew he had a lengthy line of girls who would do anything to fuck him. Through them all the only person he would ever see was you. You and your bright eyes, your soft y/e/c eyes looking past the fans as you saw him.

You had walked towards the gym after studying for you and Atsumu to walk home. You loved walking home with him, the way his fingers wrapped around your own, the way he brought your knuckles to his mouth. He adored you and you adored him.

The fangirls screeching with baked goods that Atsumu wouldn’t take, you tried to barge through them, getting elbowed, why was it so hard to see your boyfriend?

Osamu had been at the door as he noticed you, “Y/n.” You smile at him as he takes your sleeve dragging you through.

“Where did all the fangirls come from?” You mutter as you follow him inside.

“It’s summer and you know what happens then.”

“What sweat and shirtless men.” He laughs at your comment as you try to find Atsumu.

“Agh Osamu, we need to do some sets before we can leave.” Kita speaks before noticing you. “Is this your girlfriend, nice to meet you.”

He gives a smile as you look at the twin, both looking at disgust at the thought of being in a relationship together. Sure, he may look like your boyfriend, but his qualities were more brother like whilst his brothers were more boyfriend type.

“Ugh...” You were interrupted as you felt arms wrap around your waist.

“What’s my princess doing surrounded by all these boys?” Atsumu’s lips brushed against your ear as you shivered at his touch.

“Osamu helped me past the fangirls.” You said as you turned to meet his eyes, his hands moving to your waist to being you closer.

“They weren’t any trouble.” You shook your head as he leans down to meet your lips.

His soft lips on your own feeling as you both move together. “Oi you two we still have some sets to do.” Atsumu huffs at his brother as he leaves you.

“Wait on the benches princess.” You nod as you walk away.

Kita looks between the twins before shaking his head, “someone’s actually dating you.”

He walks away as Atsumu scowls, he watches you sit down making sure nobody disturbed you.

He starts the set effortlessly before he hears you speak, “You’re such a pretty setter.” You had stood up cheering him as he did one of his great sets to Osamu who spiked it. He blushes at you he knew how much he loved your eyes on all of him, his body, his form even his hands. He wanted you to know that he was all yours.

eita semi

“Semi.” You hum his name out to the empty gym, he was with Ushijima and Tendo as they were practicing spikes and blocks.

You smiled at three boys as you walked onto the court, “do you boys never get sleep?” You laugh as you walk up to Semi.

“I get the daily amount needed to survive.” Ushijima spoke stoically he had the ball in his hands rotating. You raised your eyebrow at the boy as Tendo started to sing about sleep, his fingers doing little dances.

“Come on guys it’s like 9, don’t you have beds to get too.” You mutter as you lean against Semi, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“One more minute.” Semi pleads his eyes softly looking at you, “and I’ll even teach you how to set a ball.”

Ushijima gives a confused look as you look at the boy, “Fine by me.” Is all he mutters.

You drop your bag only wearing your skirt and thigh highs with your button up. Semis hands wrap around you showing you the technique of setting, how far your hands should be raised, the whole lot.

Before you knew it Ushijima passed the ball to you ready to spike, you push the ball from your hands upwards making it go towards Ushijima as he spikes it down, Tendo just missing it.

“That was amazing, you might even end up taking your boyfriends spot.” Tendo joked out as your waiting for praise from your boyfriend.

“You did amazing baby.” Semi smiles kissing the top of your head. “Give us another five minutes and then we’ll leave.”

You nod as you move to the benches watching them practice, you admired all of Semi’s features, the way his hands moved to set the ball, the way he scrunched his noise. You loved it all you loved everything about him.

“You’re such a pretty setter.” You say aloud, the boys looking at you, Semi goes red as you gawk at him. He finally walks up to you kissing you softly, his hands wrapping around your waist to bring you forward. He would never admit it but you calling him pretty made him feel some type of way.

keiji akaashi

Fukurodani’s practice game with Nekoma was closing to an end, you had stayed late in the library to revise for an upcoming exam and had sadly missed the game. Knowing Akaashi would be upset, you left a little early to catch the last part of the game. Hopefully.

You walked through the gym doors, the points at a mere 2-point lead by Fukurodani, Nekoma had been putting up a fight, you examine the game, going towards the two managers who you were friends with.

“How longs this been going on then?” You ask Yukie as she gives a look of dread.

“Too long Y/N.”

“Has Bokuto gone into emo mode?” You question as Kaori speaks this time.

“Gladly no.” You loved the frosted tip owl like a brother and a happy Bokuto meant a happy Akaashi, you watched as the game was drawing to a close, the ball being sent to Akaashi as he effortlessly set it to Bokuto who spiked it down winning the set.

You admired all of Akaashi’s features, the way his blue eyes analysed the area, brightening up once he saw you. He rand his hands through his already messy black hair, Bokuto screaming at Akaashi, “Akaashi you saw that.” He bounced about as Akaashi quickly praised him before walking up to you.

“You’re such a pretty setter.” You hum at the tall boy; he gazes down at you smiling at the comment.

“You’re my pretty girl.” He kisses your temple before quickly going back to thank Nekoma.

“I’ll wait outside for you.” He had passed you gesturing five minutes as you walked outside. The chilly air hitting your exposed thighs as your socks only went below your knees. The uniform not helping as you hadn’t worn your blazer due to the immense heat in the morning.

“What do we have here? A cold owl.” You could recognise that voice from anywhere.

You turn around to be met with the one and only Nekoma’s captain. “One day Kuroo I’d wish you weren’t an ass.”

“Ooo my bad, princess.”

You glare at the tall boy, he was mocking you, knowing already of yours and Akaashi’s relationship. “Don’t call me that you dickhead.”

“Are you pissing off my girlfriend?” Akaashi walked towards you unamused at the situation.

He handed you a hoodie as you quickly wore it, not wanting to freeze your tits off.

“Me never.” Kuroo laughs as you roll your eyes.

“Come on Y/n, pain in the ass Kuroo san must be getting tired from all the loosing he did today.” You smirk at the uncharacteristic comment of Akaashi but nevertheless take his hand.

“You’re so cute.” You sing out as he grabs you closer to his body, putting a hand to your jaw as he kisses you softly, his calm demeanour making you melt underneath his touch.

“You’re cuter Y/n.” You blush as you remain in each other’s arms.

“AWWW MY FAVOURITE COUPLE.” Bokuto screams as he runs next to you.

“Bokuto san.” Both you and Akaashi scold in unison at his shouting. He gives a signature smirk as he beings to praise both his and Akaashi’s skills. You listen intently as you stare up at Akaashi his warm eyes filling you with love and comfort.

keishin ukai

Keishin and you had dinner plans and knowing him you knew he would not be ready or ever arrive early to get ready. Being the best girlfriend ever you went to go collect him, you had already closed the shop up for the night, occasionally helping out when you had free time mostly to spend time with Keishin though.

You had always wanted to meet the kids he coached but he had always been a wary because he knew the kids and knew exactly how they acted in front of pretty women. Especially Nishinoya and Tanaka.

You walked up the steps leading to the volleyball gym, well that’s what you assumed it was. Knocking on the door as you saw the team taking a break, a man comes up to you with black hair and glasses as you smile at him.

“Hi, how can I help you?” He speaks cheerily before you recognise him as the man who had tormented Keishin for a couple of months back at the shop.

“Who’s she?” You hear one of them mutter, you were dressed up to be a teacher and you couldn’t have come for any of them. Even with the blue dress that clinged to you, you looked gorgeous and the whole boys team knew it.

“Oh, hi, I’m Y/n I looking for Keishin.” He gives a confused look inviting you in from the freezing air.

“You know our coach.” A loud orange hair boy jumps up in front of you as you look between both males and the rest of the team. This had shocked the team how did their coach know you.

You nod speaking, “Yeah he’s my boyfriend.” Deadpanned as the team goes silent, Takeda goes red at the fact that Keishin had mentioned you but never introduced you to them all.

Two boys instantly jolted in front of you as you jumped back, one with a buzz cut and another with a brown strip of her between his black hair. “Tanaka, Noya don’t frighten the woman.” A guy with grey hair spoke calmly to the boys.

“I have hope, if coach was able to get her than there is hope for us all.” Noya screams at the team as you fiddle with your clutch that kept your phone. You regretted not calling before you had arrived.

“Hope for what?” Keishin had come through the doors carrying his car keys. “Y/n what are you doing here?” He looked even more confused before seeing the dress and how amazing you looked

“You forget didn’t you.” You walk towards him as you mutter at looking up at him.

“Dinner, fuck, let me wrap practice up, I need to…” You bring your finger to his lips.

“I know you need to get changed we have an hour before the reservation.” You spoke confidently, the team gawking at how you shut their couch up so easily.

“Guess you better meet the team before we leave.” You laugh as he grabs your hand making you stand in front of the boys. “Introduce yourselves make it quick.”

One by one they all introduce themselves even stating their position as you remembered what Keishin had taught you about volleyball. “Wow you’re both setters, I love setters.” You smile at both Kageyama and Sugawara as you turn back at Keishin.

“You’re such a pretty setter.” You coo to your boyfriend teasingly.

The team laughs at Keishins bright red face, “Yeah, yeah.” He mutters grabbing your waist feeling your skin through the thin dress material. “I’m gonna wrap practice up early, you are all free to stay longer, but I’ll make practice a lot longer tomorrow.” The boys groan at the lack of energy knowing that they did love Volleyball enough to spend all hours of the day doing it.

“Before you leave, how did you get her?” Nishinoya said with no filter.

“The imbecil actually asked that.” The tall blonde Tsukishima snickered as you laughed.

You turned to face the dyed blonde man, “He begged.” He goes wide eyed as he pokes your side.

“You really be telling people that’s how I got you.” He pulls at his hair taking the headband out of his hair as you smirk.

“He begged on his knees.” You rephrase as the boys laugh at how embarrassed their coach was getting.

“Okay this practice is done now.” He grabs your hand as he pulls you outside, “Princess I distinctly remember you were the only one of your knees.”

You slap him playfully as you look at him, “you perve.” You give a quick kiss as you retract he grabs your throat making you stay close to his mouth as he continues the kiss. His rough hands on your body.

He retracts the mere inches between both your mouths still visible, “as soon as I saw you in that dress, how could I ever resist you?” You chuckle your head going back as his hand was still wrapped around your neck, his thumb brushing against your lips. “A quickie in my car.”

“You pervert.” You could almost feel his smirk as he laughed at your reaction. He adored everything about you as you go back for another kiss. He loved you and you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t love him back.

kenma kozume

You had been showing the new kid around making sure he knew where his classes were, you were going to show him the volleyball club so you could end the day meeting Kenma. He seemed nice enough but had already asked for number which you rejected as soon as you realised what he wanted.

“Finally, this is the gym, the Volleyball boys team are practicing, and I have to meet my boyfriend but if you have any questions.

“Isn’t volleyball for girls.” You gave a sign as you looked at him.

“Some of my friends are the best volleyball players in Tokyo, so no its not just a girls sport.” He gave a look as he peeked through the doors.

“There’s a girl right there though.” You grew confused as Nekoma had no manager and people wouldn’t stay long enough. He had been pointing to Kenma, you scowled at his ideocracy.

“He’s not a girl, he is the setter and he’s fucking amazing at it.” You shout urning the glances from the team as they heard you shouting. “If you started thinking with your upstairs brain maybe you’d realise that people don’t have to conventionally look like boys to be boys, they are whatever they want to identify as.”

He was scared and you had started to get pissed, the team walked up to you as Kuroo looked at you, “he giving you a problem Y/n.”

“I handled it Kuroo.”

“This the boyfriend.” The new kid asked as your blood boiled.

Kuroo was confused, he grabbed Kenma by the hood as he made him stand in front of you. “Kitten is everything okay?” All the anger that filled you had disappeared as soon as you saw him, your love, your everything.

“This is your boyfriend.” Your face grew angry again.

“Cover me.” Is all you said to Kuroo and the rest of the team, Kenma knew what was about to happen as he stopped the game he was playing to watch. “You want to say that again.”

Before you let him speak, your fist went to his face, pushing him back even if you didn’t condone violence, it was sometimes necessary. Kenma smiled as he saw his girl fighting for him. “That’s enough kitten.” He spoke softly as you stopped beating the crap out of the boy.

You don’t say anything as you leave, he wasn’t injured just a few scratches, Kenma grabbed your hand holding it, even if you were shorter than him you would always fight for him. He brought your bruised knuckles to his mouth. Kissing it better as if all the love and care he had was going to heal your wounds. You giggle at his touch as you watch the rest of the game feeling his eyes fixated on the ball.

Before you knew it the practice had finished and you and Kenma held hands walking to the train, the new kid disappearing. He smiled listening inattentively at your day. “You know.” You pause speaking as you notice him watching, “you’re such a pretty setter.”

He hides his face with his hair not wanting to feel embarrassed you knew he loved it as he squeezed your hand softly, you smiled leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling everything, you needed in him.

koshi sugawara

You hadn’t intended to come watch the practice, but Suga had insisted you come so he could walk home with you. You adored him and even though you knew the basics of Volleyball it was still a confusing game.

You ended up coming right on time with Kageyama swapped out with Suga. He noticed you as he gave a bright smile, you smiled back going to Kiyoko and Yachi as they greeted you with cheery HI’s.

The game started again, Suga serving as he started getting passed the ball, you understood the terminology and what was going on, it was when they would do their insane moves that were unexplainable. He set the ball effortlessly as Asahi spiked it right past the blockers.

You cheered always being Suga’s biggest fan, as they continued on with the game you watched smiling at the love you had for him. The devotion you had to this boy who brought happiness to your life. You knew he would bring about comfort in a room and right now all you could feel was admiration at his perfect sets, his perfect passes, his perfect serves. He was perfect to you and he deserved the world.

They had started doing something you didn’t know much about, Noya coming from the frontline as he jumped up setting as well. Suga had told you about this attack, a synchronised attack that would only work if everybody was perfect. You didn’t really read up on it as much as you did other attacks but seeing it in action as Suga spiked the ball passing the blockers you realised just how much satisfaction it brought your boyfriend.

“Suga that was amazing.” You shout as he smiles, the practice game having been won as he scored the last point.

He walked up to you, opening your arms for a big hug. You loved his hugs he always smelt of fresh towels and vanilla a combination expected from the grey-haired boy. “You’re such a pretty setter.”

He smirks as he remains around you, his arms encasing you as he was so in love with you. You were his everything and he wanted to show you the world.

“Can you two stop making us want to puke?” Daichi laughs out as you stick your tongue out at him.

You turn back to Suga his eyes remaining glued to you, “just because nobody loves you Daichi.” Suga spoke still fixated on you, “I love you.” He whispers as you reply back the same love and adoration for him. He kisses you quickly before coach shouted at him.

Even with the smallest quickest kiss it still brought happiness to you as you felt your heart beat through your uniform, your body missing his touch, even your thighs encased in tights had hairs risen just at the pining of love you had for this boy. He was going to ruin you and you were going to gladly let him.

tobio kageyama

Kageyama had been none stop practicing for the past week, even with nationals months away he was still concentrated on improving. You loved that about him, loved his dedication but his lack of knowing when to take breaks is what worried you the most.

You walked through the double doors, it was another late night of studying for you and playing volleyball for Kageyama, your lack of communication annoying you. You saw as he set the ball perfectly, Hinata spiking it to where the water bottles were. You smiled as you continued to watch not drawing any attention to yourself, he kept setting perfectly for the orange haired boy.

As soon as the last ball had been set, he looked at the door seeing your cold frame watching intently. You smiled giving a small wave as he gestured for you.

“Hey Y/n, what are you doing here?” You play with your fingers being shorter than the boy making you have to look up to him.

“I thought we could walk home.” He knew you both hadn’t spent that much time together since the team had won Nationals.

He hesitated a response, but you spoke before he could, “you’re such a pretty setter.” You were embarrassed at what you said his face going a bright red.

“Kageyama you look like a rotten tomato” Hinata said as he walked past, you giggle at the comment as he looks at you again, the reddening calming down.

“We should walk home together; I’ll go grab my stuff.” You smile as he starts to walk off before pausing in his tracks, “thank you Y/n.” He was never this outwardly affectionate but in the enclose where only you could hear you felt love.

“It’s all true you’re a…” He interrupts you quickly.

“No, thank you for that but also thank you for staying by my side, I love Volleyball and I love you, I’m not very good as balance, but you realise how important Volleyball is to me, so thank you for always being there.” You smile looking down.

“I’ll always be there for you.” He smiles as he leaves to grab his stuff.

He arrives as quick as he left, the small action of skimming his fingertips beside your own, made you grab his hand, he looked down smiling as you leaned in closer to hid frame. He let your other arm go around his arm, bringing warmth to you.

“You know, every time I set, I set for you.” He smirks as you have love in your eyes.

“R…really.” You choke out.

He stops you, putting his hands to your face, “yeah and I really do love you Y/n”

“I love you too Tobio.” You close the gap, his hands guiding the kiss as in the privateness of the empty street allowing Tobio to express himself in which words could never do. You had to hand it to the boy, he would always be better at physically showing his love than emotionally. But even then it made you love him even more, it made Tobio Kageyama, Tobio Kageyama.

toru oikawa

Oikawa had fans, a lot of fans. You hated to admit you were jealous of how they’d come up to him after games, how they’d touch his arm. It was always a race to get to him first and even him always ignoring them as soon as you came. You still hated them.

You knew how much Oikawa had been practicing lately so you made him some milk bread and would wait for him to finish practice so you both could walk home. You walked towards the double doors, his fans crowding around as they watched intently.

You sign as you push past them, hearing scowls, someone even elbowing you as you glared at the girl, just as you reached the entrance about to walk in. Someone on the team came running up to you, he looked new and have the ugliest hair ever.

“Sorry you can’t come in when practice is on, are you one of Oikawa’s fans?” You were about to answer him as he saw the food in your hands. “Fucking hell you fangirls are obsessed with him, y’know he won’t eat it.”

You raised an eyebrow at the first year, “Yeah well I’m not a fan so move it.”

You try to barge past him, but his arm was out, he glared as you glared back. Almost a competition of seeing who would retain eye contact. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my boyfriend.” He raised an eyebrow as he chuckled.

“You must be crazy if you think Oikawa’s your boyfriend.” You grew even more frustrated at the new kid.

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t move.” He remained standing in front of you.

The commotion that had been occurring had made Iwaizumi come over, “Leave Y/n alone Kindaichi.” You finally found out his name.

“But…”

“Thank you Iwa-chan.”

“Who the fuck is Y/n.” Kindaichi mutters as you continue to glare at the boy.

You walked towards Oikawa who was sitting on the bench, his knee was getting better, but he needed some breaks occasionally. “You okay, baby.”

He broke out from his trance as a soft smile appeared on his lips, “What are you doing here princess.”

He gestured for you to come closer to him, you complied as he brought his arms around your waist, hugging you, his head resting on your stomach. “I brought you some milk bread, you didn’t eat enough this morning.”

He smiles as he takes the bread, he puts it to the side before hugging you again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He lets go looking up at you, “now go show me those amazing sets of yours.”

He nods standing up becoming a lot taller than you now, grabbing a slice of bread he stuffs it in his mouth as he goes into a game. “Shittykawa don’t stuff your face.” Iwaizumi shouts as Oikawa looks at him hurt.

“My baby made me bread.” He coos as you laugh sitting on the bench.

The game occurred, Oikawa setting perfectly as Iwaizumi spiked it past the blockers especially the annoying turnip head. You watched Oikawa intensively occasionally glaring at Kindaichi as he glared back. The game ended quickly as Oikawa’s serves allowed for many points to arise.

He came up to you, smiling happily waiting for some praise, “you’re such a pretty setter.” He grabbed your waist pulling you towards him as he hugged you tightly.

“You’re too nice to me.” You laugh as your hands played with his hair, it brought comfort to the tall boy. He gave a genuine smile as he looked down at you.

He brought his face closer to yours as he kissed you softly, his mouth gaining momentum as it became heated. His hands bringing you closer to his waist as you could feel his skin on your own. Before it could go anywhere further, you felt Oikawa’s head push against you, he let go off you his hand to his head as you saw the stray volleyball roll away.

“Iwa-chan don’t be so mean.”

“Lazykawa we still have practice, stop eating Y/n’s face off.” He huffed at the boy, you watched as Oikawa left to go pout to Iwaizumi for being mean. The tall boy would be the death of you, but even then you still loved him.

If you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and I’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13

770 notes · View notes

junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

clandestine. | 03

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 9.2k [3/6]

notes: this will likely be my last update of this fic until the new year, because i have two (2!!!) other fics that i’m planning to post in december, including another jungoo one, so! please look forward to those, and enjoy this chapter in the meantime!

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, me absolutely fucking up everything about korea’s geography probably, semi-public? fingering???, jungkook....... shall we say, rocks the boat, there is one (1) dick pic but no one’s complaining

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Monday - 11:27am

Kim Taehyung added you to the group: the great escape!!!!!! 🏝🚗💨

[11:27am] Taehyung: let’s gooooooooooo!!

[11:27am] Jisoo: ???

[11:28am] Lisa: go where?

[11:28am] Taehyung: parks lake house this weekend! we’re going on vacation!

[11:28am] You: hold up tae, we haven’t even asked our parents if we can have the house yet

[11:29am] Chimchim: oh yeah lmao

[11:29am] Chimchim: u wanna go ask noona??

[11:29am] You: nope

[11:30am] Chimchim: ugh, fine

[11:30am] Chimchim: u big baby

[11: 31am] You: ��

[11: 37am] Chimchim: they said yes!

[11:38am] Taehyung: LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

[11:38am] Minho: sweet 👍

[11:38am] Taemin: tight

[11:39am] Jungkook: dope

[11:40AM] Jisoo: you’re all idiots 🙄

Tuesday - 2:34pm

[2:34pm] Chimchim: i’ve secured the van

[2:34pm] Chimchim: for the trip i mean

[2:35pm] Taehyung: noice

[2:35pm] You: 10 people aren’t gonna fit in mom’s van, chim

[2:37pm] Jungkook: i can drive too

[2:37pm] Chimchim: 👍👍

[2:37pm] Chimchim: see? nothing to worry about

[2:38pm] Jungkook: yeah noona, nothing to worry about. nothing at all.

Wednesday - 9:49pm

[9:49pm] Taehyung: oh my god we need FOOD

[9:49pm] Lisa: you’re just realizing that now?

[9:50pm] Taehyung: shut up

[9:50pm] Taehyung: i have a cooler

[9:51pm] Lisa: and ice?

[9:51pm] Taehyung: ………… i will buy some ice

[9:52pm] You: there’s a grocery store on the way up that we always used to go to, we can stock up there

[9:52pm] Taehyung: 👍

[9:54pm] You: you also better remember to bring your own towels. and more than one change of clothing

[9:54pm] Taehyung: 👍👍

[9:55pm] Chimchim: yes, mom

///

The day of the trip finds you standing in the foyer, rifling through your purse to make sure you have all the essentials. Off in the distance, you can hear Jimin sprinting around frantically, catching the briefest glimpse of his ruffled blond hair before he disappears again into the depths of the house.

“Chim, I swear to god. Why didn’t you pack earlier?”

“I did!” your brother whines, poking his head out from the living room where his suitcase is lying wide open, belongings scattered in every direction. “It’s just that—oh, fuck. Do you have my toothbrush?”

“Why would I have your toothbrush?” you deadpan.

He ignores you, and not two seconds later, he lets out an excited shout. “Never mind! I found it!”

You sigh and rub your temples. The trip hasn’t even begun, yet you’re already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going outside,” you call to your brother, who grunts in acknowledgement. Opening up the front door, you drag your suitcase out onto the sun-drenched porch, relishing the welcome breeze that caresses your cheeks and whispers through your hair.

The rare moment of peace is broken almost immediately by the rumble of a starting engine—the sound shuddery and wavering before it finally evens out into a steady, mechanical purr. It’s coming from nearby, and your gaze immediately travels to the neighboring driveway where a beat-up sedan sits, torn between exasperation and amusement when you see Jungkook waving at you from the driver’s seat.

“I’m coming to pick you up!” he calls through the open window, and you hold back your laughter as he reverses out of his driveway, rolls ten feet down the street, and pulls into yours.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask once he’s parked.

“Of course it was,” he replies, hopping out to grab your suitcase. You watch as he pops the trunk and loads it inside, and blanch when you realize what that means.

“Wait a second. Am I riding with you?”

Some emotion flashes across his face, but he wipes it away before you can identify it. “Would that be so terrible?”

It’s been one week since Taehyung’s party, and Jisoo’s warning still rings loud and clear in your brain. Still, you feign nonchalance and tamp down the uptick in your heart rate, offering him a shrug. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He grunts. An awkward silence settles over you as he adjusts your suitcase in the trunk beside his, and you distract yourself by fiddling with your purse strap until he slams the lid closed.

“So…” you start after a few seconds. “Are we picking anyone else up?”

“Yugyeom,” Jungkook replies, opening up the driver’s side door and climbing in. Hesitantly, you make your way over to the other side of the car, wondering if there’s any way you can avoid sitting in the passenger seat without looking like a total weirdo.

“Oh! Jungkook’s here already?” Jimin exits the house at last, lugging his suitcase and a smaller backpack. He shoves both into the backseat of your mother’s van before coming over, frowning when he sees you hovering near the trunk. “Why are you just standing there?”

You make a face at him. “We’re waiting for you, dumbass. Who’s riding with you?”

“Tae, Minho, and Taemin,” your brother replies. “Didn’t you see the group chat this morning?”

“I muted it days ago,” you admit. “You guys were annoying as hell.” Then another thought strikes you, your brain belatedly registering the names Jimin listed. “Wait, what about the girls? Aren’t they coming?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “Jisoo’s working as a camp counselor this summer, and Lisa has other vacation plans. Maybe if you hadn’t muted the chat, you’d have known that.”

He has a point, though you aren’t about to admit that. You’re also wise enough not to inquire about the third member of the trio, remembering Jisoo’s revelation at the party. It’s no surprise that Chaeyoung isn’t joining you for the weekend—you’d want to avoid extended periods of time with your ex-boyfriend too. At the thought, your gaze reluctantly flits back over to the ex in question, who raises an expectant brow when he catches your eye.

“Ready?” he calls out the open window.

No, you want to say. But Jimin has already clambered into the van and slammed the door shut, and Jungkook’s car is blocking the van in the driveway so you suck in a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat beside your dark-haired neighbor.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jungkook nods and throws the car into reverse. One hand splays across the wheel while the other comes up to rest on the back of your seat, and your breath hitches when he cranes around to check his blind spots, his face suddenly too close for comfort.

He’s playing with you, you tell yourself firmly, leaning back until your back’s pressed against the door and you can safely breathe again. Chaeyoung. Think about what he did to Chaeyoung.

“Hey, I made a roadtrip mix,” Jungkook pipes up all of a sudden. He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the dashboard, tapping at the screen until the first strains of a melody filter through the car speakers. “It should last us the whole way.”

You perk up when you recognize the tune. “Oh! I love this song.”

Jungkook watches out of the corner of his eye as you bob your head to the beat, before smiling down at his lap. “Yeah. I know.”

///

Yugyeom lives on the other side of town, in a sprawling, winding neighborhood that sends your brain—and your phone’s GPS—into a complete and total tailspin. “Wait, wait—hang on. I think you missed a turn. You must have.”

Jungkook’s face crumples in confusion as he slows the car to a crawl, drawing a few irritated honks from the cars behind you. “There weren’t any streets back there, though.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, twisting in your seat to get a better look. “The directions said to take a right in… oh, fuck, hang on. We’re not even on a digitized road anymore, apparently.”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, but when you glance up at him, he’s wearing a grin. “Come on, Noona. You’re supposed to be my navigator. I’m depending on you.”

“I only know how to get us to the lake house, not Yugyeom’s,” you sniff defensively. “This is way beyond my pay grade.”

Jungkook chortles and reaches out, extending an open palm. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” You nod, handing it over, and he clicks his tongue as he turns it upside-down—rotating it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before returning it. “We might be lost,” he declares.

“Gee, you don’t say.”

He chuckles again. Picking up his own phone, he swipes a thumb across the screen before handing the unlocked device over. “Here, call Yugyeom. Put him on speaker, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement and scroll down in his contacts until you find the other boy’s name, clicking it open. A photo fills the screen as it rings—clearly a group photo from the way it’s cropped, zoomed in on Yugyeom and the ridiculous face he’s making.

“Is this from graduation?” you ask curiously.

Jungkook blinks and tears his gaze away from the windshield. “Huh?”

“Yugyeom’s contact photo,” you clarify, tilting the phone screen so he can see. “He’s got robes on.”

“Oh.” He looks away again, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s lame, I know.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. I think it’s nice.”

Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to respond, but it’s impossible to miss the grin that crinkles his face and settles there. There’s a staticky hum as the line connects, and then Yugyeom’s voice is filling the vehicle, sounding as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Whaddaya want?”

“We can’t find your fucking house, man,” Jungkook says bluntly, turning onto a street that you’ve driven down at least three times by this point. “Where do you live?”

On the other end of the line, Yugyeom sighs. “Okay, okay. What street are you guys on?”

That gives Jungkook pause. “Uhh, Cedar Street? Oak Avenue? It has a tree name.”

“Neither of those streets exist, dude.”

“Birch Boulevard!” you exclaim. “We’re on Birch Boulevard. I saw the sign a while back.”

“Ah, okay. You’re close, then. Do you see a sign for Linden Lane?”

You glance around until you alight on a signpost. “Yeah.”

“Turn right onto it. Then take the first left, go past the cul-de-sac, and another left. Do not pass Go, and do not collect two-hundred dollars. I’m the fifth house on the right.”

He ends the call before you can ask him to repeat the directions, and you send Jungkook a helpless look. “Did you get all of that?”

“Besides the overused Monopoly joke?” Jungkook asks.. “Yeah, I got it. Right, left, left. Fifth house. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there.”

And true to his word, you arrive at the house three minutes later. Yugyeom is standing on the front step with rumpled hair and a duffel bag at his feet, and you snort when he throws open the car door and flops across the entirety of the backseat.

“Rough morning?”

“Stayed up late packing,” he says by way of explanation, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Jungkook immediately turns the music up, and you giggle when Yugyeom shoots upright at the bassline that’s now shaking the entire vehicle. “I’m up, I’m up! Jeez, man.”

Jungkook just sends him an innocent grin in the rearview mirror. You turn the volume back down to a reasonable level as Yugyeom directs Jungkook onto the best route to take out of the neighborhood, and it isn’t long before you’re merging onto the highway that leads toward the coast.

You’re just beginning to get comfortable, staring out the window at the passing cityscape, when your leg vibrates with an incoming text notification. Glancing down, you see that Jungkook’s phone has slipped between your thigh and the seat, the screen lit with a new message.

[10:21am] Minho: gonna be at the store in 10

“Minho says they’ll be at the grocery store in ten minutes,” you relay to your companions. “We have a little longer to go. Probably another half hour or so.”

“We wouldn’t be so far behind if Yugyeom didn’t live in a fucking labyrinth,” Jungkook remarks, but a glance at the young man in the backseat reveals that he’s drifted off despite your earlier stunt. Rolling his eyes, he turns to you. “Can you text him back, Noona?”

You nod and hold out his phone so he can unlock it with his thumb. “Hey,” you say once you’ve hit send on the message. “Do you have a contact photo for me?”

Jungkook stiffens slightly, his gaze skittering between you and the road. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But it’s nothing, really. It’s kinda lame. But you… you can look at it if you want.”

Curiosity piqued, you scroll down until you find your name, tapping on the image beside it. The photo is from several years ago, during a family trip to the lake house with the Jeons. You are no older than fifteen, your arm slung around a fourteen-year-old Jungkook as the two of you stand knee-deep in the lake, wearing swimsuits and bright smiles. In the background, you can just barely make out a blurry Jimin mid-splash.

“I remember this,” you murmur, zooming in on your smiling faces. “That was a fun summer.”

“Junghyun was grumpy the whole time,” Jungkook recalls with a laugh. “But we had a good time, didn’t we? We practically lived in the lake that entire week.”

“Or that old canoe.” You grin, taking one last look at the photo before locking his phone and handing it back to him. “Remember? We’d always row out too far, and our parents would scream for us to come back before we fell in and drowned.”

Jungkook snickers. “As if I’d ever let you drown. I’m a great swimmer.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He backpedals immediately, realizing his mistake. “Hey, don’t twist my words. I said nothing of the sort.”

“That’s what I thought.” Giggling, you turn to look out the window, propping your chin in your palm as you watch the scenery flash past. “And I want that photo, by the way. Send it to me?”

“As soon as we get to the store,” Jungkook promises. “Speaking of which, we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for the exit for me?”

“Deal.”

///

Jimin and the others are waiting in the parking lot when you arrive, perched on and around the van as they watch Jungkook expertly maneuver the car into a neighboring parking space. “Took you long enough,” your brother says once the engine is cut, hopping off the hood and landing lightly on both feet.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” you snark as you join the others hovering near the grocery store entrance. Jimin makes a face at you, and you stick your tongue out in response. After a quick huddle—wherein you form a very haphazard game plan—everyone disperses. Jimin grabs a shopping cart and heads inside with Taehyung and Minho, the latter of whom is trying to clamber his way into the cart to hitch a ride.

Sighing, you grab a shopping cart of your own and scan the interior of the store for the produce section. They’ve rearranged the aisles since you were last here, but you quickly find what you’re looking for and begin picking your way over when Jungkook materializes at your side.

“So, what are you thinking for food?” he asks, nudging you away so he can push the cart in your stead.

You allow him to take over, gesturing toward your destination. “I know my brother,” you tell him dryly. “He’s going to buy meat and completely forget about everything else. And I don’t trust any of you to buy a single fruit or vegetable.”

“I like fruit and vegetables,” Jungkook defends.

“You like everything,” you correct, flashing him a teasing grin before leading him into the produce section.

Grocery shopping with Jungkook turns out to be surprisingly pleasant—comfortable, even. He proves adept at finding the ripest fruits and greenest vegetables, and when you ask him to find some apples, he trots off immediately and returns with a handful of sweet potatoes in addition to your requested fruit.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do with those?”

Jungkook feigns offense, slapping a hand to his heart. “That’s cold, Noona. Don’t you think I can cook?”

“I’ve never seen you cook in my life,” you respond. “How am I supposed to know if you can or not?”

“I can,” he promises. “And I’ll prove it too, if you let me.”

You get the feeling he’s not just talking about cooking anymore, but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Dropping the apples and potatoes into the cart, he flashes you a crooked little smile before turning toward a display of cabbages, leaving you to wonder at what exactly is going through his head.

///

It’s nearly one in the afternoon when you arrive at your family’s lake house. The last stretch of the drive takes you through the forest along a winding, narrow road, but Jungkook is a capable driver and you know the way well enough to warn him about any upcoming hairpin turns. Piling out of the car, the three of you make quick work of putting the food safely into the refrigerator. By the time you’re finished, Jimin and the others have arrived as well, lugging their belongings inside and setting them inside the entryway.

“So who’s sleeping where?” Taehyung asks, glancing around the house. It’s modestly sized, with a living area on one side and a combined dining room and kitchen on the other. Three bedrooms and a bathroom branch off of the hallway between them, ending in a back door that leads out to the lake. Through the window, you can see the water glimmering in the sunlight, hazy and golden.

“We’ll have to share,” Jimin says. “ If Noona takes one room, that leaves two bedrooms and the pullout couch for the rest of us.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests, drawing a chorus of groans.

“I always lose!” Jimin complains. “And Taemin cheats!”

“Do not!”

Laughing at the indignant expression on your brother’s face, you decide to leave them to it and head to your bedroom with your luggage in tow. The room is just as you remember it, with a bed tucked against one wall and a dresser on the opposite. There are three doors in total—one that you just entered through, and another that opens into a small closet. The third leads to a bathroom—shared with the bedroom on the other side of the wall that usually belongs to Jimin. Vaguely, you wonder who will be sleeping there tonight, before setting your suitcase on the bed and unzipping it.

“Fuck!”

You jump at the sudden shout, poking your head out into the hallway to see what’s causing all the commotion. Yugyeom is kneeling on the floor with his head down, a crestfallen Taemin standing beside him. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Minho look supremely pleased with themselves, and you see why when they grab their bags and practically skip to the master bedroom across the hall, collapsing onto the king-sized bed.

“Have fun on the couch, losers!” Jimin singsongs, grabbing Jungkook by the wrist and dragging him into their newly won bedroom on your side of the hallway. “Lake in fifteen minutes, so get changed! Last one there’s in charge of dinner!”

The door slams shut behind him, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your opened suitcase and pulling out a book. There’s a perfectly shaded spot beneath one of the trees along the water, and you fully intend to capitalize on the last few hours of daylight before the sun begins to set.

Minho is the only one outside when you exit the house, standing on the dock in a pair of green swim trunks. He waves at you cheerily before cannonballing into the lake, and you squeak as the resulting splash sends water splattering across the front of your shirt.

“Sorry!” he calls when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

You wave off his apology with a laugh, settling down onto the soft grass at the base of your chosen tree and opening up your book. The other boys trickle out of the house one by one, but you barely notice. It isn’t until a triumphant shout pierces the air that you finally glance up to see what’s causing all the commotion, your gaze immediately landing on Taehyung standing on the back steps of the house.

“Trust me,” he says, unbothered by his apparent tardiness. “You don’t want me to make dinner.”

Minho pulls a face and straightens up from where he’d been floating on his back. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung gives Jimin a smug smile, who scowls from where he’s sitting at the end of the dock, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “So what now? Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors again?”

“Nah, I’ll do it.”

Every head whips around to face Jungkook, yours included. He’s standing a short ways from where you’re sitting—his approach so quiet that you hadn’t even heard him arrive. The last time you checked, he’d been diving off the dock with Minho and Yugyeom, water pooling in his collarbones and dripping down the ridges of his taut abdomen each time he resurfaced.

Not that you’d been looking, of course.

“Really?” Jimin looks aghast at his best friend’s declaration. “You can cook?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief and plops down beside you, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Why does everyone in your family seem surprised by that?” he asks, his lip jutting out in a petulant frown. “Do I seem like someone who can’t cook?”

“Yes,” you tell him honestly, marking your page and letting the book fall shut. “Don’t take it personally, though. Men only learn how to cook in college when they have to start fending for themselves. And sometimes, not even then.”

The noise that leaves Jungkook’s mouth can best be described as disgruntled, but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he peers over your shoulder to get a look at the cover of your book, mouthing the title to himself before glancing at you. “Haven’t I seen you reading this before?”

“Probably,” you admit. “It’s an old favorite.”

He hums, slouching back against the tree again, and when you look over, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut. With his mouth parted and his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, he looks years younger than he is—and so much more like the Jungkook you used to know.

“Tired?” you whisper.

“Long drive,” Jungkook whispers back, his head already beginning to loll. “Lemme sleep, Noona.”

Smiling to yourself, you return to your book and leave him to rest.

///

“So, what are you even planning to make?” Jimin asks, swinging his legs. He’s seated atop the kitchen counter, taking up the majority of what precious little space there is to begin with, and Jungkook sighs deeply as he’s forced to dodge around him yet again to peer into the refrigerator.

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t think you even know yet,” Taemin pipes up from the doorway. The other boys are in the living room playing Mario Kart, but Taemin and Jimin have selflessly pulled themselves away from the game to help their friend in the kitchen—or so they say. As far as you’re concerned, they’ve been nothing but a nuisance thus far, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud.

“Ramen doesn’t count as making dinner,” Jimin points out snidely when Jungkook pauses too long next to the box of ramen packs. “Anyone can boil water. And you don’t get to add an egg and call it fancy, like you usually do.”

“My ramen is delicious, excuse you,” Jungkook retorts, pointing a spatula at him. “And that’s not even what I’m making, so fuck off.”

Jimin shrugs, but shuts his mouth nonetheless. You take the opportunity to throw some pork belly at him, the meat wrapped neatly in paper and tied off with twine. “Here,” you tell him. “You could at least make yourself useful and start grilling the meat.”

“Okay, mom,” your brother grumbles under his breath, hopping off the counter. He and Taemin head out to the back porch where the grill sits, and you join Jungkook at the stove where he’s staring thoughtfully at an empty pan.

“Try twisting the dial. I’ve heard that helps.”

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and turns to you. “Huh?”

“The stove. It won’t light itself, you know.”

Chuckling, Jungkook twists the dial as instructed, adding a drizzle of oil to the pan. As it heats up, he turns and selects a knife from the cutlery drawer. The sweet potatoes he’d insisted on purchasing are already washed and peeled, and you watch as he begins to slice them, your gaze automatically flitting down to his exposed forearms, his muscles flexing with every movement.

“Hey, Noona? Can you do me a favor?”

You blink, tearing your gaze from the branching veins lining his arms. “What?”

Jungkook, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice your distracted state. “Can you put the rice in the microwave?” he asks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Why?” you tease. “Are you still scared?”

“Of course not,” he retorts, but you don’t miss the wary look that flashes across his face when you plop the rice inside and go to punch in the cook time.

The remainder of the cooking goes smoothly. Jimin and Taemin return with the grilled meat, and Jungkook rebuffs your offer to set the table, leaving his position at the stove to lay plates and utensils down on the table himself. “I’m just about done, anyway,” he tells you, gesturing at the plate of glazed sweet potatoes on the counter. “Sit down and relax, Noona.”

“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat. Jimin takes the chair beside you, and Taemin plops down on his other side. Jungkook sits down just to your left once he’s finished laying out the food, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost think that he’s going to repeat what he’d done at his graduation dinner. But the dark-haired young man remains on his best behavior, keeping his hands to himself under the table, and you aren’t sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.

The meal flies by in a flurry of laughter and conversation. Jungkook discovers that his glazed sweet potatoes have adhered to the plate, and sends everyone into hysterics when he promptly starts spinning it around like a steering wheel.

It’s a good night. And at the end of it, you go to bed warm and content, with a belly full of food and a smile on your face.

///

You awaken to the sound of chirping songbirds and gentle waves lapping at the shore the next morning, thoroughly rejuvenated after an undisturbed night’s sleep. Stretching your arms overhead, you yawn and bask in the comfort of your bed for a few more moments before getting up and heading to the bathroom, thankful that you don’t have to fight anyone for sink occupancy. The toilet seat is even down, which comes as a welcome surprise, all things considered.

Before long, you are back in your bedroom, rifling through the contents of your suitcase. Belatedly, you realize that you’ve packed only one swimsuit—and a bikini, at that. Cheeks warming, you pull the two pieces out, holding them up against your body. Has it always been this small? You don’t remember. All you know is that Jungkook has two fully functional eyes, and there’s no way that he won’t be looking at every inch of skin you choose to expose.

In the end, you settle on wearing the bikini beneath a flowy, floral kimono-style robe, tied at the waist to form a makeshift dress. The ensemble reaches just past your knees and is sheer enough to still show skin, but you no longer feel as self-conscious going out into the view of your companions and that’s a victory as far as you’re concerned. Checking your reflection one last time, you adjust your sash before opening the bedroom door and heading down the hall for some breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is empty when you walk in, tiptoeing past a still slumbering Taemin and Yugyeom on the pullout couch. You savor the quiet as you start up the old coffeemaker, pulling a mug from the cabinet and rinsing it out to get rid of any lingering dust. The weather app on your phone promises that it’ll be a clear, cloudless day, and a glance out the window confirms it. Silently, you debate whether or not to crack a window.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of Taehyung, his brown hair sticking up at all angles. Blearily, he trundles to the fridge and grabs the orange juice, seemingly two seconds away from chugging it straight from the carton before you clear your throat and push a clean glass toward him. You think you hear him mumble a thank you.

As the morning wears on, the others slowly begin to trickle in. Breakfast is a disorganized affair that leaves bread crumbs all over the counter, and nearly causes a fight when everyone seems to want their eggs cooked a different way.

“Look, if you wanted your egg soft-boiled, you should’ve made it yourself!” Jimin grouches to Taehyung, the t-shirt over his head muffling his words. Everyone else is already in the water, splashing about, but you’re seated on the end of the dock with your brother and Taehyung, who looks thoroughly unfazed behind his tinted sunglasses.

“Maybe if I knew how to soft boil an egg, I would have.”

“Google exists,” Jimin says, finally freeing himself from the shirt and tossing it aside.

Taehyung nods sagely. “Exactly. So why didn’t you use it?”

Jimin is beginning to look positively murderous, so when Minho swims over and taps your submerged ankle, you are beyond grateful for the distraction. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Are you gonna swim, or are you gonna sit onshore the whole time?” Minho asks, raking his wet bangs out of his eyes. “The water’s not even cold, so get in here.”

Pointedly, you wiggle your toes. “Feels pretty cold to me.”

“Okay, fine. It’s cold.” Minho grins. “But you get used to it.”

You sigh at his easy admission. “All men do is lie. How am I supposed to believe you?”

He raises a brow. “Do I need to pull you in and dunk you under?”

“I will kick you if you even try,” you tell him, standing up and shrugging off your robe. An audible hush falls as the gauzy material pools around your ankles—Jungkook stops wrestling with Yugyeom and trying to dunk him underwater, and Taemin pauses mid-splash, his hair drenched and dripping.

It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, letting loose a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, {Name}.”

Jimin grabs a shoe from the pile on the dock and chucks it at him, hard. “Dude, that’s my fucking sister!”

“Ow! What the fuck, man, that’s my shoe!”

“Quit ogling my sister!”

“I’m not!” Minho yells, just as Jimin chucks the other shoe and hits him square in the mouth. “Okay, I’m not anymore. Sorry, okay?”

Once he’s sufficiently sure that Jimin is done attacking him, Minho turns to you. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you reassure him. “Honestly, it was kinda good for my self-esteem. And I don’t need you defending my honor, or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you add, glancing over at your disgruntled brother.

“Men are pigs,” Jimin sniffs. “I won’t apologize.”

You ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “I know, Chim. You’re right.” Then your smile turns mischievous. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do, either.”

And then you grab him by the arm and drag him into the lake, the cold water submerging you in an instant and stealing the breath out of your lungs. You’re both gasping by the time you resurface, blinking water out of your eyes, and you squeal when Jimin takes the opportunity to splash you again.

Hours pass—the sun rising higher overhead. Around noon, Taehyung disappears inside the house and returns with an assortment of snacks and sandwich fixings, ushering everyone over for an impromptu lunch on the dock. You dip your feet into the water as you munch on a bag of chips, and Jungkook plops down beside you with a juice box in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

“Wanna go for a ride in the canoe after lunch?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the house. “I found it in the garage.”

You laugh. “Really? I thought for sure we got rid of that thing. Are you sure it hasn’t sprung a leak?”

Jungkook’s face crinkles into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

You grin back and raise your cup, the lemonade inside swishing around. “I’ll hang on to this, just in case I need to start bailing water out.”

Lunchtime winds down gradually. Jungkook polishes off his sandwich and trots off to fetch the canoe, waving off your offers to help before disappearing around the corner of the house. You watch him return a few minutes later from your seat on the end of the dock, resting your weight back on your hands and swirling your pruney toes in the water. He’s stripped off the loose white tee he’d donned during lunch, his golden skin cast in shadow by the canoe perched across his bare shoulders, and your gaze trails from his bulging biceps down to the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles flex with every step he takes, and you hastily take another sip of lemonade in an effort to combat the sudden dryness in your throat.

With a grunt, Jungkook comes to a stop at your elbow, heaving the boat into the water. The impact sends ripples across the lake and the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy, and you nearly fall off the dock when Jungkook touches your shoulder gently.

“Ready to go, Noona?”

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Jungkook holds the boat steady with one hand while offering you the other, and you gratefully grasp it as you step off the dock. The canoe rocks dangerously when Jungkook clambers in after you, but quickly steadies when he picks up an oar and jabs at the dock to push off into the lake. The glimmering expanse of blue water stretches before you, and you relax as you let your fingers dangle off the side of the boat, watching ripples form beneath your fingertips.

“I can help row,” you say after a few moments, casting a glance over at Jungkook. He’s settled into a rhythm now, the veins and tendons in his arm flexing with each movement, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting.

“You—” Jungkook says, fixing you with a playful stare, “—just enjoy the ride, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you smile and turn back around to admire the view. Sunlight reflects off the rippling water, lending a golden iridescence to the glittering blue depths. In the distance, the opposite shoreline rises up, crowned with rocky outcrops and majestic dark green pines.

With a start, you realize how far away you’ve gotten from the other boys. The shouts and laughter from the house are quickly fading into the background, and you nervously turn to look at Jungkook as he rows you even further.

“God, my dad would freak if he saw us right now,” you remark, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled. “I mean, we don’t even have life jackets. He’d lose his mind.”

Jungkook hums. He stops rowing, his hands stilling on the oars, and you’re just about to ask him what’s wrong when a warm hand glides up your thigh.

“You think you could maybe stop talking about your dad, princess?” Then he smirks. “Unless you’re into the whole daddy kink thing, because I’d be down to explore that at some point if you want—“

“Jungkook!” you hiss, scandalized.

“Yes?” the young man in question hums, his face the picture of innocence. It’s hard to muster up your vocabulary when he’s looking up at you with those wide doe eyes, but you somehow manage to prevail over your malfunctioning brain.

“We’re in public!” you whisper, glancing back at the shore where your brother and his friends have started an impromptu game of water polo.

Jungkook smirks crookedly at you. “Guess you better not scream too loud, then.”

And then, before you can open your mouth to protest—before you can even try to call his bluff—he’s slipped his hand into your bikini bottoms and found his way to your clit. Your entire body spasms when he presses into it experimentally, and the resulting snicker that escapes him is nothing short of infuriating.

“Careful,” he coos, laying his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing nonsensical circles into the soft skin. “Don’t wanna rock the boat, now.”

Then he returns his attention to your clit, pinching the nub just to watch you jolt in his grasp and soothing you with a gentle kiss to the knee afterward. Your skin warms beneath the plush of his lips, and the pleased smile that curves them is all the warning you get before he sheathes a single finger in your clenching core. “Jungkook—” you gasp, shoving uselessly at his bare shoulders, but you can’t keep the edge of desire out of your voice. You can’t hide the growing wetness between your legs either—wetness that he most certainly feels as he slips another finger inside, pumping into you with ease.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the way you clench around him. “So pretty like this. So pretty, getting fucked by my fingers. I could do this all day.”

“We—we don’t have all day,” you whisper. The last syllable dissolves into a moan as Jungkook eases a third finger into your cunt, and you scrabble to ground yourself when he picks up his leisurely pace. One hand settles on the edge of the boat, your fingernails digging into the wood, while the other finds Jungkook’s bicep. His arm flexes beneath your grip with each snap of his wrist, and you keen when he crooks his fingers just right and sends stars skittering across your vision.

He knows that you’re getting close. You can tell from the growing furrow between his brows and the hard set of his jaw, and you can tell that he won’t stop until he gets you off. Concentration etches across his face, and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit again.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook—”

“That’s it,” he rasps, digging deeper and thumbing roughly across your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With one final flick of his wrist, Jungkook sends you hurtling over the edge that he’s so effortlessly built, a cresting wave of pleasure overtaking your body and spreading through your veins. Your leg kicks out instinctively, rocking the canoe dangerously in the water, but Jungkook catches you by the ankle with his free hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He shifts his weight until you’re steadied once more, and only then does he ease his fingers out of you, raising them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Think we can sneak away so I can fuck you properly?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat up at the lewd display, warming even more when his words register in your muddled brain. “Oh my god, Jungkook.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be saying when I really get my hands on you,” Jungkook agrees. Flashing you a mischievous grin, he drops his hand over the edge of the boat, letting the turquoise water wash away any lingering fluids. “What do you think? The backseat of my car isn’t half bad…”

“I will literally push you into this lake,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide a disbelieving laugh. “Why are you such a perv?”

“You like it,” Jungkook defends immediately. “‘Sides,” he adds, casting a wary glance at the shore where Jimin and the others are still fully engrossed in their game, “I wanna kiss you while I fuck you. It’s not as good like this.”

At that, something dangerously close to affection blooms in your belly, winding its curious tendrils around your heart. Swallowing the feeling down, you pick up one of the oars instead, handing it over to him before hefting the other. “Come on,” you murmur. “They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah. Probably.”

And then he raises the oar you just handed him, lifting it until the paddle covers both of your faces, and boldly plants a firm kiss on your mouth.

“I’ll row us back,” he declares casually when he pulls away, as if he hasn’t just stolen all the oxygen from your lungs. As if your lips aren’t burning where he’s kissed you, your cheeks hot beneath his gentle exhalations. As if you aren’t positively thrumming with the desire to pull him back in, and maybe take him up on his offer to fuck you in the backseat of his beat-up sedan.

“Yeah,” you say instead, your voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”

///

What few remaining hours of daylight you have, you decide to spend inside. Jungkook gets roped into the water polo match as soon as the two of you return to shore, and you take the opportunity to slip into the house and clean yourself up. Safely locked away in the bathroom, you strip off your damp bikini bottoms and toss them in the sink. The top follows, and you give both a quick wash, doing your best to ignore the remaining slick from your orgasm that stubbornly coats the material.

Once everything is washed and hanging up to dry, you step into the shower. Warm water soaks your hair and slides down your back, and you tilt your head back to let the spray wash your worries away, relishing in the rare moment of peace and quiet.

By the time you’ve toweled off and gotten dressed, you can hear the boys beginning to traipse back into the house. From what you can make out, they’re making dinner plans, and you poke your head out curiously when Jimin mentions you by name.

“What are you saying about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes accusingly at your brother.

Jimin whirls around, his cherubic face a perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing! I was just talking about your fried rice and how good it is…”

“You’re trying to get me to make you dinner,” you sigh. “I knew it.”

“No, we’ll help!” your brother promises. “I swear, as soon as I get out of the shower, I’ll chop all the vegetables.”

“Sure you will,” you snort, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

Much to your surprise, the kitchen is already occupied when you arrive. Jungkook and Yugyeom are at the counter—the former poised with a knife at the ready, about to slice into an onion. The latter is digging through the cabinets, and both turn at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey,” Yugyeom says. “You probably know where the bottle opener is, right?”

You nod. “Left of the sink, second drawer down.” Then you turn your attention to Jungkook, peering curiously over his shoulder. “What’s the onion for?”

“Dinner,” he replies, flashing you a crooked little smile. “We’re making fried rice, aren’t we?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest and races to catch up, thumping erratically against your ribcage. It’s hard to ignore the warmth blossoming in your belly—near impossible to ignore the butterflies that have made a home there—but you somehow manage to school your expression into something passably neutral and busy yourself with the other vegetables on the counter. “I see Jimin got to you, too. Is the other cutting board clean?”

Jungkook nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dish rack. “Washed it last night, yeah. It’s all yours, Noona.”

You hum and skirt around Yugyeom to grab the clean board and another knife. Chopping vegetables goes a lot faster with two people, and Yugyeom does his part by cracking open two bottles of beer and plunking one down next to each of you before opening a third for himself. “Hydrate,” he orders, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and taking a sip.

It doesn’t take long to finish making dinner. As promised, Jimin joins you as soon as he’s out of the shower, plucking the knife out of your hand and nudging you aside so he can finish cutting the vegetables. You fire up the stove and drizzle some oil into a pan, and smile when Taehyung brings you the container of leftover rice and a large serving bowl.

“You know what we should do?” Minho asks as you’re all sitting down to eat. Yugyeom’s opened more beers, and Jimin’s brought out the wine as well. Jungkook is spooning out fried rice for everyone, and you accept the bowl he hands you with a murmur of thanks before looking at Minho expectantly.

“What should we do?”

“Go to the beach,” he replies, tilting the remainder of his beer back into his mouth. “It’s only an hour away, isn’t it?”

“Closer to half an hour without traffic,” Jimin corrects. “But, yeah, we should go. That would be fun.”

By the time dinner is finished, you’ve finalized plans to drive down to the beach in the morning. “Remember, we’re leaving at ten,” you tell Jimin, elbowing him in the ribs. “That means you have to wake up before ten.”

“I know!” your brother whines, rubbing the spot where you elbowed him with a grimace. “Jeez, Noona. I’m good at waking up. It’s Jungkook and Tae you have to worry about.”

“Says the punk who takes hour-long showers,” you snark. “What are you gonna do when you have to pay your own water bills, huh?”

“Shower at your place,” he replies smugly. “You can’t turn me away. I’m your brother.”

“Please, that’s exactly why I can turn you away, you little mooch.”

“You love me!”

“Really? You wanna test that theory?”

The remainder of the evening passes in a blur of booze and board games, unearthed from the closet in the hall. Despite your collective agreement to go to bed early, it’s past midnight when you finally bid everyone goodnight and crawl underneath your covers. Shutting your eyes, you will your brain to settle and your limbs to relax, and you’re on the verge of drifting off when your phone suddenly buzzes. Lazily, you roll over and snatch the device off the nightstand, taking in the late hour before your eyes flit down to the new notification and go wide.

[1:02am] Jungkook: IMG_497

You freeze, thumb hovering just above the message. Even when your screen goes dark again, you can’t erase the sight of his name lighting up your phone, the attachment sitting there like a taunt. You shouldn’t open it. You can’t open it.

But curiosity gnaws at your belly, fraying the edges of your resolve. Slowly, you wake the screen, watching as Jungkook’s name fills it once more. You hesitate, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.

And then your phone buzzes again, several times in quick succession.

[1:04am] Jungkook: i miss you, noona

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss your pretty face

[1:04am] Jungkook: miss how tight your pussy felt around my fingers

You drop the device as if scorched. It takes several moments to gather your wits again, but when you do, pick up your phone, clicking on his name and scrolling up to the attachment. In the darkness of your bedroom, you watch with bated breath as it downloads.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips past your lips, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Jungkook stares out at you from the photograph illuminating your screen, his eyes hooded and his lips curled into a devious smirk. He’s in the shared bathroom between your bedrooms, and even though it’s dark inside, the flash of his camera is just enough to illuminate the distinctive palm tree patterned shower curtain behind him.

But, you aren’t focused on that.

No, your focus is zeroed in on the foreground of the photo, where you can perfectly make out the head of Jungkook’s cock, sticky and leaking copiously from between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you repeat, louder this time.

And as if reading your mind, another text flashes onto your screen.

[1:07am] Jungkook: wish your pretty little pussy was stretched around my cock right now, princess

You aren’t sure what possesses you to send the response you do, but your thumbs are moving before the more rational side of your brain can catch up and stop you.

[1:07am] You: why don’t you come over and make it happen then?

You’ve only just hit send when the bathroom door swings open, revealing Jungkook standing there in nothing but sweatpants. His face is illuminated in the stark white light shining from his screen, his eyes dark and his smirk even darker. Every movement drips with intent, from the way his lips quirk upward to the way he saunters over to join you on your bed, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the rumpled sheets. The room goes dark.

And then…

“Hey, princess.”

His lips are at your ear, hot breath caressing your cheeks and sending shivers down the length of your spine. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins you, a hand finding your bare thigh before sliding up to grasp your hip. Only an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of cotton panties shield you from his roving fingers, and you can tell from the pleased curve of his mouth that he isn’t going to let either stand in his way. One hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing along your ribcage, and you let out a breathy gasp when he trails up and skims along the soft skin just below the swell of your breasts.

“Been thinking about you all night, you know,” Jungkook whispers, pushing up your shirt and peppering kisses along every inch of newly revealed flesh. “Been thinking about how pretty you looked, cumming around my fingers, and how much prettier you’d look cumming around my cock.”

Your shirt is long forgotten by this point, tugged overhead and thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Jungkook hauls you closer, slotting himself between your spread legs, and you shiver when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, the material uncomfortably damp as it clings to your folds.

“Jungkook—” His name escapes you in an airy whisper. “Please.”

Even in the darkness, you can see the satisfied, self-assured tilt of his lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he croons, leaning down to press a kiss to your waiting mouth. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek while the other remains between your legs, and you gasp sharply when he digs his thumb a little harder against your clit, circling the sensitive bud.

Jungkook seizes upon the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth with unrestrained ardor. Your panties are peeled away, the cottony material disappearing right alongside the pressure of his thumb, and the inadvertent whine that escapes you has him chuckling darkly in his throat.

“What is it, princess?” Jungkook rasps, his voice dipping several pitches. “You have to tell me what you want, remember?”

You clutch at his wrist weakly, tugging it back between your legs until he finally indulges you and resumes his lazy revolutions around your clit. “Want you,” you whisper. “Want you inside me.”

Jungkook lets out a pleased hum, rewarding you with a single finger that he slips into your sopping entrance, your juices aiding the smooth glide as he curls it up in search of the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree shakily. “But it looks like you are, so why don’t you let me help you out?”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his lips ghosting across the swell of your cheek. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on helping me?”

Slowly, you reach down, letting your fingers graze the sizable bulge in his sweatpants. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Me, stretched around your cock?”

A low groan escapes him when you give him a firm stroke, your fingers barely meeting around his length. “On your back,” he commands hoarsely, nudging you backward until you’re nestled into your pillows. Freeing his erection from the confines of his sweatpants, he settles comfortably between your spread legs, the mattress groaning in protest at the shift in weight.

“Wait,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist. “Did you hear that?”

His face scrunches in confusion. “Hear what?” he asks, as if he’s never heard that particular string of words before. “Are you sure it wasn’t just—”

He stops mid-sentence, and you both hear it again—the unmistakable creaking of bedsprings from next door. “Shit!” you hiss, scrambling back on the mattress until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard. “Oh, god. That’s Jimin. He’s going to kill you if he finds you in here—”

On the other side of the wall, the door to the shared bathroom opens, the light flickering on and illuminating the crack beneath your door. You hear your brother cursing sleepily under his breath as the toilet lid clatters open, and nearly shove Jungkook off the bed in your haste to get him out of your room.

“You have to go,” you whisper frantically, herding him toward the door that leads out into the hall.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls his pants back over his hips, and you can practically see him willing his erection to go away. “What am I supposed to say if he asks?”

“I don’t know! Pretend you were going for a glass of water or something!”

With a final push, you shove him out of your bedroom, leaning against the door with a relieved sigh when it clicks shut behind him. You hear Jungkook shuffle off just as Jimin flushes, and cast a prayer up to any deities that may exist as you listen to him wash his hands. And it seems your prayers are answered, as quiet descends over the house once more. Off in the distance, you think you hear Minho snoring.

Letting out another sigh, you return to bed, crawling beneath the covers and getting comfortable. And when sleep finally takes you, you dream of Jeon Jungkook.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lia writes

894 notes · View notes

behindyourbarrette · 3 years

Text

like you a latte - matcha latte

← previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

a/n: SURPRISE i felt like dropping this a DAY early!!lololololol but here it is! i appreciate the love on the last two parts so so soooo much :) can’t beliEVE WE ARE HALFWAY DONE!! reblog if u enjoyed

—

Needless to say, Twilight Time isn’t very crowded on Thursday afternoons.

You rarely pick up closing shifts anymore—for reasons totally unrelated to the doctor who almost exclusively arrives in the morning—but you’re covering for Sally, and it’s a nice day out. The rain has let up in favor of mild weather, the sun just barely peeking through the clouds as people drift past the shop. Despite the fact that there’s more foot traffic on the street, not many people come in to order. You don’t blame them. Why have hot coffee on a day like this?

Your back is turned when you hear a group enter, and your heart soars at the prospect of tips. For whatever reason, most people are more inclined to tip when they know their friends are watching. You call out to let them know you’ll be right with them, and after you’re done fidgeting with the settings of the coffee grinder, you turn.

It’s Spencer. But he’s not alone.

There are a total of four people before you, each intimidating you in slightly different ways. They’re all agents, as evidenced by their not-so-concealed carries. You recognize a few of the characters. Spencer’s told you about JJ, who you assume to be the friendly blonde, and Penelope, who is a vision in fuchsia. That leaves Emily, who’s whispering to JJ, eyes fixed on you. You try to absorb the sight, them together. Spencer looks at ease, a wide smile on his face as he looks between you and the group.

“Hey, Spencer. These your coworkers?” You crack a nervous smile, knitting your fingers together. He nods, introducing them each in turn. JJ grins in your direction, and Penelope waves at you with a fingerlessly-gloved hand. Emily reaches across the bar to shake your hand. You get the sense that there’s something Spencer hasn’t told you.

“What can I get you guys?”

Spencer shrugs, defaulting to JJ and Emily. Penelope pipes up, eyes bright as she peers at the menu above you.

“Do you have matcha, sweetheart? I’ve been meaning to try that. It’s great for your skin.” You nod, pulling a cup out and inscribing Penelope’s name on it. JJ and Emily both order americanos, exchanging a sheepish grin. After setting their cups aside, you turn to Spencer.

“Genius, you should really try the matcha. It’ll give you brain power. Not that you need any more.” Penelope does jazz hands to emphasize her excitement, and Spencer shrugs. You watch them interact for a moment before you realize he’s turned to you for your approval.

“Oh. I really like matcha. It’s green tea, and a matcha latte tastes light and sweet. I think you’d like it.” He nods, and orders it hot. Penelope orders iced; you smile as you consider that they compliment each other, eventually turning away to prepare everyone’s drinks. They’re all relatively simple, and you manage to include latte art in the hot drinks. Spencer’s is last, and you flick your wrist to finish the design. Crossing the bar, you hand each agent their drink in turn.

Penelope sips at her drink first, the bright green matching one of her rings perfectly. Spencer eyes his dubiously, poking at it with a wooden stirring stick.

“It’s very green.” He whispers to Penelope, who cackles in response.

JJ catches your eye as you watch, lingering between the bar and their seats. With a smile, she waves you over.

“You’ve totally ruined other coffee for Spence. We had to come try it for ourselves.” She whispers, leaning down. You aren’t sure how to feel about her tone; there’s a glint of something in her eye, something playfully secretive. You’re not sure what part of this you’re not in on.The idea of Spencer mentioning you at all is foreign—sure, you’ve told your roommates, and your coworkers found out that you do, in fact, have a favorite regular. Still, you never considered the idea that you bleed into other parts of his life. You steal a glance at him while JJ compliments her americano. He’s sipping at his matcha, a green mustache left behind.

“You have a magic touch, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee this good in the states.” Emily flashes you a grin as if she can sense your nervousness. You relax a little, asking her about her work abroad instead of getting lost in your head. She strikes you as a diplomat, and a compliment from her feels like something to be savored. Penelope raves to you about the health benefits of matcha, and you immediately feel welcomed by her. If you were to run a study comparing the approachability between pink polka dots and pantsuits, you're sure that polka dots would win.

“Are you an agent, too?” You ask, stirring your own iced coffee with a straw. Eyeing the clock, you’ve decided that this counts as your break. Tyler be damned. Penelope giggles, shaking her head.

“Oh God no. Well, technically. I’m a technical analyst, so I work on the computer and tech end of things.” She explains, and you nod. It makes a lot of sense. While both JJ and Emily exude the energy of most cops—authoritative, with a critical eye—Garcia does’t fit that mold. It’s this that draws you to her.

You learn that JJ has a son named Henry, a surprisingly Southern boyfriend to match, and that Emily has a cat named Sergio. Despite their highbrow titles, you don’t feel out of place. It’s easy to sip at your coffee, the cup cool against your fingertips, and listen.

“Are you in school? Spence mentioned that you majored in literature.” JJ sets her cup down, flexing her fingers against the air. You feel yourself flush now that the attention is on you. The fact that he chose this detail to divulge sticks between your ribs. You haven't told him much about your work—he insisted on reading your thesis, and even reread the source material to better discuss it with you—but apparently, what you have discussed has made an impression.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in my second year of law school.” You admit. Emily nods in approval, reaching out to high five you.

“Damn. With all the assholes you deal with in customer service, you’ll make a great attorney.” You high five her with a small smile on your face, stealing a glance at Spencer. He seems elated, clearly enjoying the dynamic he’s observing.

“Do you want to go into criminal law?”

JJ asks, eyes wide with curiosity. You shake your head ruefully. They take it well, shrugging their shoulders. To their credit, their branch of law enforcement deals with the process prior to prosecution. You shudder at the idea of what happens after they catch the bad guys.

“No, not really. I’m looking at either the entertainment or environmental sector.”

The group murmurs, and the conversation devolves into small talk about law. You look to Spencer for an escape, and he suggests that they take a walk. Once the girls have trickled out of the room, each hugging you goodbye, you’re left alone with Spencer.

“Hey.”

You laugh at the simplicity of his greeting, turning to toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Spencer flushes a deep shade of red, raking his hands through his hair.

“Your friends aren’t how I expected. Really cool, though. Especially for like, Quantico professionals.” You wipe the counter down, and the reality that you’re on the clock hits you, a little dizzily. Did his coworkers really just want to meet Spencer’s barista? The realization tastes a little bitter, and you bite back any further questioning in favor of looking up at him.

“Yeah. They’re like family.” He looks out the window, hands deep in his pockets. His whole demeanor is stiff, and you resist the urge to reach out and force his shoulders down from his ears.

“Did you like the matcha? I wasn’t sure you would. I used the oat milk you like.” Slowly, he relaxes. With a small smile, he nods.

“It was good. I like most teas, I’m finding. It wasn’t too sweet.” You add matcha to the mental list you keep, of drinks he likes. It’s become your mission to expand it. In the months since he started branching out, you’ve managed to add a few drinks to his core rotation.

“You know you’re one of my friends too, right?”

This catches you off guard. You pause in the motion of sweeping the floor, carefully raising your eyes to meet his. While nervous, he sounds sincere. When met with your silence, he continues.

“I just wanted you to know.”

You nod carefully. The implications of this are something you’ll consider later, when you’re alone. He’s only confirming something you’ve already known, but something about it stings. The word crosses your mind briefly, but it sticks. It’s bittersweet.

“I know.” Your voice is low, soft against the din of the coffee shop. Spencer doesn’t look satisfied, opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. He glances between you and the window.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

taglist:

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink @insert-gay-here @just-another-persona123 @winniemjf **if tags don’t work, check your visibility settings

140 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [3]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, ptsd, fighting over beds

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: every part i introduce more anonymous characters smh. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Don’t make me shoot you, Wilson.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, agent.”

“How’s it looking out there?”

“There’s been some talk. Apparently Serpentine isn’t very happy that their intel is dead. They’ve got people looking out for you everywhere.”

A frown adorned your face. Sam was leaning forward on his arms, head turned down as he listened to Ransone.

“How dangerous is it?”

“I would say that everyone’s a little wound up. Best not to go anywhere even a little populated.”

“Noted.” It would blow over in a while. The media coverage of Pierce’s assassination would die down with the changing news cycle soon.

“I can have someone pick you up wherever you are. Just tell me where.”

“Don’t bother. We won’t be here for too long,” you responded, Sam nodding in agreement. Once it quietened down you could leave, go back to Ransone without blowing your cover.

“Whatever makes you happy. Just let me know when you’re out.”

The click of the call ending took with it the only noise in the room.

Sam picked up the phone to remove the battery, discarding it to maintain your security. Burner phones were useful, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

“Wait,” you cut in, holding your hand out for it, “I need to make another call.”

The both of you were seated at the dining table. A piece of paper lay in front of you, playing the dangerous role of being the mediator.

You were trying to ration out your supplies and create a schedule as a way of finding middle ground. Things were more or less calm for the last two days, but the fight over the bedroom was wading into territory that could only be solved by a good old middle school fistfight.

Currently you were figuring out a meal plan so that you could establish some kind of routine. With bread as the only uniting factor, the other three components were going on a rotation. You had reached all the way till Saturday before running out of possible combinations.

“I’m just saying-”

“Don’t.”

“We’ve exhausted all edible options, it’s the only combination left-”

“I will not hesitate to fatally wound you.” You were only half kidding. The ridiculousness of the ideas he was proposing was entertaining, and you knew he wasn’t being serious. It was hard to catch a moment where he was.

“Fine. But in case we get to the point where peanut butter and jelly is the only thing that’s left, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“I would rather die than shovel spoonfuls of plain jelly and peanut butter into my mouth.”

“Your survival game is weak,” he chided, tsk-tsking at you.

You only rolled your eyes at him, moving on to the next subject.

Bed.

“Easy, we just alternate days. You got the last two days, so I get the next two and then we just switch everyday.” Sam eased back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head leisurely.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” you asked, writing down the plan he had just presented. The bed wasn’t queen sized with memory foam or any kind of privilege like that, but it definitely beat the couch with its odd lumps and depressions.

“A week tops. Anything more is just excessive.”

“Hello,” you said, voice low, even though you were well out of earshot of Sam. He was eying you from the living room window. If he was as good as he claimed he was, he’d know how to read lips and you couldn’t afford to have him do that.

“Code?”

You turned your back to the window, facing the large trees that loomed before you. “1993. It’s me.”

“Y/N?” He sounded suspicious, a little shocked, and you understood why he would be.

“Living and breathing.” You toed at a rock that lay ahead of you.

“Word on the street is that you’re dead,” he pointed out dryly.

“Not me; Pierce. I escaped. It was a trap.” When the rock you were playing around with escaped after a particularly hard kick, you started pacing up and down instead, “Ransone put a hit out on him because he thought he was leaking information.”

“How on earth did he come to that conclusion?”

“Don’t know. He was dead before we got there.”

“Who is ‘we’? You got someone there with you?” You didn’t realise it had slipped out during your conversation.

“Another one of our guys. Apparently I was a backup in case he didn’t show up, but he did, so now we’re stuck together.” You averted your gaze to Sam who was still observing you from the window brazenly, intently.

“Where are you?”

“We’re safe.”

“Alright.” He sounded like he understood, albeit not entirely convinced. “Stay low.”

“Will do.”

With that you hung up the call, dropped the phone to the ground and crushed it under your boot heel. When you were convinced that it was sufficiently useless, you turned on your heel, making your way back.

You walked back into the house, beelining to the kitchen to make up for your missed lunch, only to be greeted with Sam sitting on the couch looking at you inquisitively.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody,” you answered straightforwardly, opening the cabinet to get two slices of bread.

“If it has somethin’ to do with this situation we’re in then I need to know who you’re talking to.”

“Just drop it. It has nothing to do with you.” You found the jar of peanut butter he had already opened, using a butter knife to spread it along the bread.

“Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you must. I’m going to take a nap,” you answered evasively, chewing absentmindedly on the sandwich you had just made. You didn’t bother to look at him as you headed towards the bedroom.

“Hey now, hold on a minute. Who said you had bedroom privileges? You’ve been using it for two days.” You stopped in your tracks, face scrunching in annoyance. “If you’re keeping vital information about my life from me, then I think I deserve to not have a fuckin’ backache when I wake up in the morning.”

You quickly weighed the pros and cons in your head, imagining how the next few minutes would pan out if you just said ‘no’ and left. But in every imaginary argument you proposed, the bottom line ended with him prodding at you until he either got the information that he wanted or the bed.

Frankly, the bed was something you were willing to sacrifice to get him to stop meddling in your business. It seemed like the only reasonable way to get him off your ass.

“Fine.” You spun around to face him. “We’re making an arrangement.”

“Whoever has the bed has to forfeit TV privileges for that day.”

“Sounds reasonable. None of those three movies can be played more than twice in a row.”

That was more to preserve your sanity than anything. You had already seen each of them once, bordering on thrice for Die Hard. Sam’s fault, not yours.

“We should have a codeword. In case there's danger or something. Or maybe if you just want to be left alone,” Sam suggested, finger pointing to the blank space left at the end of the paper. “But it’ll be like solitary confinement since it’s so fuckin’ quiet here.”

Almost on instinct your mind flashed to images of dark cells. Quiet sobs. Blood stains on the wall, originating from clawing at it. Sunlight through one small window at the top. Utter loneliness except for yourself.

You could remember the soreness in your legs from curling up into a ball for hours, rocking back and forth. The smell of drain water collecting in the basement where the cell was.

Isolation.

“You got any suggestions?”

“Huh?” You forced yourself back to the present. Your knuckles had a dull ache in them from holding the pencil too hard.

“Do you have any ideas for a codeword?” Sam repeated, looking at you intently.

“No, nothing off the top of my head.” You shook your head, trying to regain focus. You loosened your grip on the pencil, letting it fall to the table.

“We’ll just leave it at ‘Brooklyn’ for the time being.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed to whatever he was saying. It was just a precaution in case something major happened. It was rather unlikely that you were going to use it anyway.

Codewords weren’t uncommon in your business, but it was mostly used for missions or other professional standings. Regardless of being less adventurous than what you tended to work on, this was work at the end of the day.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done.” His chair scraped loudly against the ground as he got up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a while. Need to shake off the possible osteoporosis.”

You didn’t bother asking where he was going, ears following his footsteps as he walked down the hall to the bedroom, probably to get his jacket that he hung up in the drawer.

You left the paper on top of the mini fridge, alongside the car keys and a few dollars you had nabbed in the hurry from Pierce’s house.

Staring around you at the silent room, you realised that there really wasn’t much to do. It wasn’t like you to have so much time on your hands. You could always go for a run or test out some of the weapons hidden here.

You had the rest of the house to explore, plans to draw up, a post mortem to assess what went wrong on the mission, even though the last option wasn’t possible without Sam’s cooperation.

Fuck it, you decided. Couch it is.

Kicking your feet up, you grabbed the TV remote to flip to the news station. The town rarely had anything to report on but it would be worthwhile to know what exactly was available around. Possibly assimilate in the crowd in case you wanted to be hidden.

It took you a few minutes of mindless surfing through static channels till you found it. It seemed like a scene right out of a Hallmark movie; the reporter was holding a microphone to a child who looked like he understood nothing of what was going on.

You were barely paying attention as it flipped from segment to segment, other things taking precedence in your mind even though you willed yourself to relax. There really wasn’t much to make a note of other than a few good samaritans and how utterly boring the lack of content was. A few occasional glimpses of stores and other resources available in the background were the only interesting part.

You were starting to drift off by the time it reached the breaking news of the evening. Sam had already come back when the sky slipped into twilight. He barely acknowledged your form lazing on the couch, only offering you a greeting and a goodbye as he made himself his dinner to take to the room.

Your eyes were just about closing when the breaking news of that evening came in. It was all politics. People you knew from old missions waving and smiling their way to lead their country as if the dubious acts they committed behind the scenes to get there was erased.

Until you suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide open.

“Wilson. Wilson!” You hit the cushion furiously to get his attention when he didn’t respond the first time around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What?” he yelled in response, mild irritation in his voice. You knew it sounded like you were shouting bloody murder even though no one was around other than you two, but you didn’t care.

“Look at this!” You couldn’t stop gawking at the screen. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“What? What do you wa-” He stalked into the room, ready to tell you to stop yelling but stopped mid sentence when he finally saw what you were so concerned about.

“Reports claim that the victim was attacked early in the afternoon at his villa. Officers say they found multiple signs of a forced entry, following which he was shot dead. So far no arrests have been made but the police have since released photos of two suspects of whom, they claim, have reason to believe orchestrated the attack.”

On the right side of the screen flashed yours and Sam’s picture side by side. Old mugshots from a petty offence you committed years ago for which Ransone bailed you out.

“The pair are said to be on the run after escaping before law enforcement arrived. If you have any tips on the whereabouts of-”

You turned to look at Sam. His stare didn’t budge from the TV as they once again reminded the public what you both looked like.

Years of anonymity, working in the shadows and creeping around to avoid being recognised only to have the entire country know what you looked like.

“Well, shit,” he finally exhaled. “Somehow I think our stay here just got extended.”

Part 4

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon

245 notes · View notes

doyumacy · 3 years

Text

ʜᴀᴇᴄʜᴀɴ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (fwb) pt. 2

ɢɪꜰ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴏʜʜɴʏ, ᴍᴀʀᴋ, ᴊᴇɴᴏ, ꜱɪᴄʜᴇɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴ. ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ. ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx.) ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏʀᴇ; ɴᴏꜱᴇ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ, ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7,7k

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 ʜᴇʀᴇ

Doghyuck doesn't call you the next day as it was expected. You are walking to your next class when you see him talking enthusiastically to a girl; she has her back leaning against the wall and he has one arm at the side of her head. You sigh and keep walking without being noticed by him.

You know Donghyuck and know the playboy he is. You know it might don't mean anything. Donghyuck is a flirty person by nature, and you can’t even begin to list the number of girls who’ve had their hearts broken by him. And yours might get added to that list.

You shake your head and enter the classroom placing your backpack on the floor. Someone sits next to you and you see Johnny. He smirks at you. “Hey, baby girl.”

Johnny is also a natural flirter, but not a player. You smile. “What’s up, Bravo?”

“Ha! Johnny Bravo,” he beams. “That’s a nice one.”

You shrug, smiling. “You know, my birthday is this weekend and you’re of course invited to the party.”

“I’ll be there,” you nod.

Johnny tilts his head in surprise. “Wait, really?”

You laugh. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Because it normally would take me 5 hours to convince you to go…” he glances at you.

“That’s not t…” you frown. “Okay, maybe it’s true, but this time I really wanna go.”

He raises his hand and places it on your forehead. “Are you sick?”

You giggle and remove his hand. “I’m okay. I just need a distraction.”

“You okay?” He looks at you.

You sigh. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“You know, if you ever need to talk to someone about anything I’m here,” he smiles at you.

“I know, thank you.”

(...)

"Hey Soo," you call your roommate.

She turns to you, taking her headphones off. "Yes?"

"Can I borrow your white dress?" You ask.

She nods. "Sure, where are you going tho?"

"Johnny's party," you smile. "He invited me and I haven't gone shopping in months."

"Oh, then no. You can't borrow that one," she gets up from the bed walking to her wardrobe.

"Okay..." you frown.

"You better wear this instead," she pulls out a long-sleeved pink latex dress, with a deep neckline ending at the waistband enriched by a hexagonal buckle. Your mouth drops open. "Woah, that's so..."

"I know," she beams.

"Aren't I going to look like a dominatrix?" You laugh.

She giggles. "Of course not. You will look very hot."

"Fuck it," you say, grabbing the dress. "I'm gonna wear it."

“Donghyuck is gonna lose his shit,” Soo laughs

“Huh?” You look at her confused. “What do you mean?”

“I might be dumb but I’m not blind,” she smiles. “You always sneak out and the way you two look at each other pretty much say you two been fucking….”

You choke a whine. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” she pats your shoulder.

(...)

"Wow..." You sigh as you compare this amazing mansion to your house in your mind.

"Impressive, yes yes, whatever," Johnny grabs your hand, walking through the people inside the mansion.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You need a drink," Johnny smiles, "Goddamn, you look so hot tonight."

You fiddle with your hair and your necklace, hiding your face so he can't see you're blushing. "T-thanks."

When you enter the kitchen, all eyes are on you, or rather in your cleavage. You recognize a few people that are there and you greet them, smiling. "My, my, aren't you pretty!" A boy practically sings, flipping his dark hair as he talks.

He's gorgeous. Johnny hands you a drink and you have a sip. "Ignore Yuta, he can't keep his hands to himself."

You giggle. "It's okay, I came because I wanna mingle."

Johnny tilts his head in surprise. "Weren't you dating Donghyuck?"

You almost choke on your drink. "What? W-where did you get that from?"

Johnny scratches the back of his neck. "Taeyong is Donghyuck's neighbor in the dorms and I once saw you, or heard you two doing things."

You blush and cover your face. "Oh, my God."

Johnny laughs at your reaction. "Taeyong didn't see you, don't worry. So, is your boyfriend coming?"

"He's not my boyfriend," you sigh. "We are... fuck buddies. We have been fucking our souls out."

"Nothing wrong with that," he quips.

You laugh. "It is when you catch feelings for him."

"Oh..." Johnny wiggles his eyebrows.

"Yup," you shake your head. "Whatever, I'm done. I can't keep doing it."

“Okay, lets go dance and hopefully I can introduce you to someone,” Johnny grabs your hand again, leaving the kitchen.

After Johnny and you dance a couple of songs, he invites you to play beer pong. You have one ball in one hand and a drink in the other, trying to land the damned thing in one of the red solo cups arranged across from you. You shoot and you miss, which you swear loudly at. Yuta, who is your partner, laughs. "You're the worst beer pong player I've ever seen."

You groan. "Give me a minute."

After everyone shoots and misses, it's your turn again. You take the ball in your hand again and suddenly your sight gets lost in Donghyuck and the same girl he was flirting with days ago in the hallway. Is she his girlfriend? Was he fucking you and dating her? You wanna throw up.

You drop the ball and leave the dining table trying to find the closest bathroom. Someone grabs your arm, making you turn. It's Johnny. "Hey, you okay?"

"You invited him?" You give him a questioning look, almost angry.

"Who? Donghyuck? No!" He looks at you. "I did invite the girl he is with... she's in my marketing class. I didn't even know they were together."

You growl and yank yourself free. "I need a drink."

Johnny shakes his head in disagreement. "Come with me. I want you to introduce you to someone."

"I don't need more guys, Johnny!" You glance at him.

"He's not a guy, he's a man," he smiles, dragging you to the living room. "Hes our age, but hes everything but a guy."

"You sound whipped for him, you should date him instead," you mock him.

Johnny chuckles. "Not my type."

In a matter of seconds, you're in front of a 'man' with round eyes, small mouth, a lot of cheekbone. Small nose too, with a sort of endearing hint of crook at the bridge. Permanently surprised eyebrows, one half-hidden under black hair, styled back but for a curl coming down on the right side. He's truly beautiful.

"Hey Mark, this is y/n. y/n this is Mark Lee," Johnny smiles. "You both like ice cream and sushi. Mingle, bye!"

And Johnny disappears from the scene. You stare at Mark for a couple of seconds and then laugh. You scratch your forehead and you can tell Mark is trying to keep his eyes up from for cleavage. Nice.

There's an awkward silence until Mark breaks it. "I actually hate sushi. Anything raw."

You sigh in relief. "Me too. I hate it."

You both laugh again. "Anyway," Mark continues, "it's cool to like, actually meet you finally? Johnny talks about you a lot so I feel like I kinda know you already, haha."

"Oh really?" Which means Mark spends significant time around him. You wonder where.

"Yeah! I mean, I don't go to the same uni as you guys but we met when we were on an exchange program in America," he smiles.

"Oh that's great!" You smirk. "So you're the guy who kept him away from me when he was away?"

"I think I am? I apologize," he places a hand on his chest.

"You're forgiven," you sigh and he smiles.

Your favorite song Pour Up by Dean ft. Zico starts to play in the background and you look at him. "I love that song. You wanna go dance with me?"

"You kidding? That's my favorite song too," he grabs your hand walking to where the rest of the people are dancing.

It's not like you wanted to give Mark a lap dance, but the song is too sexy for not to do it (or maybe you did, but that is an advanced level of courage and you are not known for being a bold person). It's not like Donghyuck didn't see you with a stranger, dancing so closely and got jealous of him because that could be him.

Mark rotates his hips, running his hands up his sides and swaying. He glances over you, who are doing the same.

You roll your body provocatively, remembering just how tight the dress looks on your ass. The next move prompts him and you to face each other for a moment as you rise back up, rocking on your heels and swaying. He winks at you jokingly and you smirk.

Donghyuck finds the scene repulsive. He wants to drag you out of the house and beat the shit out of Mark. Who the hell did the guy think he is? Donghyuck gets pulled out his thoughts when his date grabs his arm. "Babe, I want another drink."

Donghyuck gives you a last glance and sighs turning to his date. "Let's go."

When the song's over, Mark and you step out of the crowded 'dance floor' and you lean against the wall. He stands next to you. "Uhm, did you hear he's having a concert next weekend?

You nod. "Yeah, I wanted to go but tickets got sold out."

He bites his lips. "I have an extra ticket, would you like to go with me?"

You look at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, you seem to enjoy his music and you're nice. And of course, I'd like to know you better," he smirks.

You beam. "Okay, I'd love to. Thank you, Mark."

Back in your dorm, you text Mark you've arrived safely and he wishes you a goodnight. You take off the dress and put on your pajamas.

Right when you're about to turn off the lights, you get a text message from Donghyuck.

𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛?

And just like that, minutes later you open the dorm door finding him on the other side of the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes then turn into slits as he glares at you.

“Had fun with your date?�� He questions and you can see his jaw set: muscles clenching tight.

"I did," you reply.

Donghyuck gets inside your dorm and shuts the door behind him. He attaches his lips to your neck which draws a soft moan from you, he harshly sucking and peppering soft kisses on the expanse of the skin of your neck. His hands running at your sides smoothly and gradually getting closer to the underside of your breasts with each pass, when he finally cups your breasts you arch in his palms further pushing yourself closer to him. "Look at you, you're all needy by me just kissing your neck."

You want to slap him, but he's right. “Why can’t you understand that I am the only one who can make you feel this way?"

You taste the residue of vodka on his lips when he kisses you and walks to your bed without breaking the kiss.

You find yourself lying naked on your bed where you two have laid your back many times but he never stayed over the night. As he slips your pajama pants down your body, your eyes water and pools in your eyes ready to spill over. ‘This is the last time,’ you tell yourself. He discharges his clothes at the other side of the bed. You manage to swipe the tears that gathered in your eyes and look at him.

Placing himself over you, he is a sight to behold and you trace the line of his body with your eyes, caressing the dips on his collarbones and the line that leads down to his cock as his face coils into a smirk smug with the knowledge that he can turn you into a whimpering mess.

His thumb is drawing circles on your clit which make your moan and your pussy clench on nothing. You hate that he is the only one who can make you feel this way, reducing you into a pleading mess as you move your hips to the rhythm that he has set.

He inserts his length into you slowly, while you grip your sheets until your knuckles turn pale. He always feels good. So good.

He knows your body so well; putting the right pressure and hitting the spots that makes you throw your head back repeatedly, moaning. You can feel his quick thrusts and knows that he is near his climax. Donghyuck makes a sound at the back of his throat when he orgasms and you follow him when he falls.

He snuggles into your neck, trying to catch his breath again. You rest beneath him and hug him, placing kisses on his shoulder. "I came inside," he tells you, rolling next to you.

"I'm on the pill," you stare at the roof.

He nods. "I should go."

You laugh. Of course he has to go. He always has to go. "Whatever, lock the door when you leave."

You cover yourself with your sheets, turning on your back. He frowns as he gets dressed. "What's up with you these days?"

"What do you mean?" You turn to face him.

"You're acting... weird," Donghyuck shrugs.

You want to yell at him and tell him that you're over heels for him. That you love him. That you've been in love with him for a year and being cold to you only hurts you more and more.

You shake your head. "Just... go."

He finishes putting his clothes on and grabs his phone. "Is this too much for you? Us fucking?"

Yes. "No."

"Great, because we're supposed to have a great time," he leans closer to you and gives you a kiss. "You know where to find me."

You nod and right after he shuts the door, tears plops down your cheeks. He doesn't love you the way you love him. And he might never do. You hate him, but you even hate yourself more. You don't want to ever see him again.

(...)

“y/n! Mark's here!” You hear Too call you.

You smile, grabbing your jacket as you hurry out the door.

Mark is standing in the doorway and you draw closer, he smiles at you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” You smile back taking in Mark's attire. He is dressed in black ripped skinny jeans, a white shirt and a denim jacket. “You look great.”

“You do too.” Mark offers you a charming grin, head tilted slightly to the side, “You always look great.”

“Oh he’s good.” You hear Soo murmur teasingly, “you two have fun.”

Mark flashes the tickets to the security guy at the entrance of the venue, the music is pumping in your ears and the flashing lights of the stage. A crowd has already found their seats.

You know how to maneuver through a crowd almost completely undetected. You seem completely in your element, the multi-colored lights dancing off your hair, as you two of them maneuver through the people. You finally find your seats and Mark sighs, relieved.

Minutes later, the artist finally gets on stage. You two are moving to the beat, the show is so good.

You catch yourself staring between songs, Mark is truly beautiful.

You're surprised when he glances over and notices you are mouthing the lyrics. He smiles watching you. "That's our song."

"Wanna dance with me again?"

"Definitely," he smirks.

You two dance to "Pour Up" again, grinding to each other. Mark feels good pressed against your back.

After the concert is done, you two stay still waiting for the rest of the people to leave the venue. Someone lets out a roar from somewhere on your left, a second later something collides with your face, hard enough to knock you more into Mark. Mark catches you before you end up face first on the floor. The second you gain your footing back, Mark turns towards the guy that hit you, furious.

“Watch it!” Mark's voice comes out harsh as the other concert attender snorts and waves him off. You feel something hot run down your face from your nose. You reach up your hand in time to catch a few drops of blood. You feel Mark shift his weight before tugging you through the crowd away from the stage, you try to follow your movements, having some difficulty with the daze of being hit.

Mark helps you over to a more secluded part of the venue. After a while Mark sets you down on a bench. You let out a groan as you raise your hand to your face, trying to keep the flow of blood from staining your clothes.

“Wait here.” Mark turns on his shoes and dashes across the venue. You look up to the roof, after some time you hear Mark's hurried footsteps behind you. He kneels next to you in the flow, handing you a handful of paper napkins for your nose.

“Thanks,” You murmur as you take the pile. Your blood easily soaks through the first few layers of paper before you get it under control. You try to pull your head back when you feel Mark's hand on the back of your head directing you forward.

“Lean forward, not back.” Mark directs as you do as told. After a few seconds you feel Mark's hand move down to your back, rubbing gentle circles as the two of you sit in silence. After a few minutes you feel the blood flow slow down.

“So, think my nose is broken?” You ask as you gently wipe the blood from your face.

“Nah, definitely not broken. You’re going to have one heck of a bruise though.” Mark warns. After a few seconds you feel something ice cold touch your cheek. You let out a surprised yelp as you lean away from the touch. You look over to see Mark handing you a cup with ice in it.

“Here, so it doesn’t swell.” You sit back up and take the cup with your free hand and gently press it on your face where you were struck.

“You’re… kinda good at this first-aid thing.”

“I've been playing hockey for years, you learn these type of things.” Mark scoffs. His eyes soften as you move the napkins from your nose, showing the bleeding has almost stopped. “Sorry you took an elbow to the face. I didn’t even see that guy come up to you.”

“Neither did I.” You admit as you pull the bloodied napkins away from your face, using one of the clean ones to clean any extra blood from your hands and face. “So, be honest, how bad does it look?”

“Like I said, you’ll be bruised tomorrow, but, it doesn’t look that bad.” Mark offers with a small smile. “The ice helped, at least your face isn’t swollen.”

“Thanks for the ice.” You offer as you look down at the cup of ice Mark had handed you, you frown a little when you see the logo on the side of the cup. “Did you…run all the way to the other side of the venue?”

“… Yes.”

“Thats-” Mark glances in the direction of the hallway, “At least two hundred meters away.”

“… Yes.”

“You ran.”

“…I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“You-” You can't help but break into a little laugh, “You, are trying to be modest about running across the arena just to get something for my nose and face.”

“You were bleeding,” Mark points out.

“Yeah, but I could’ve used my shirt or something. You didn’t have to run like…half a mile to get something for me.”

“I run on ice pretty much everyday" Mark scoffs, shaking his head at you. You smile, standing up and reaching out for Mark.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Mark stares at you for a second before taking your hand. You pull him up and tug him along the arena, finding the exit. "So you say you play hockey?"

He nods, "Yeah. I'm the captain of the team," he smirks.

"No shit," you say.

Mark laughs. "What?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, "its just curious because my best friend is the captain of the hockey team in my uni."

"Cool, what's your friend's name?" He asks.

"Uhm Lee, Lee Donghyuck," you say.

He stops walking and he stares at you. "Dickhyuck is your best friend?"

You burst out laughing at the nickname he has given him. Oh boy, he indeed is a dick. "What did he do to you?"

"Sorry for the nickname, I was just shocked you're friends with him," he scratches the back of his neck. "He is an asshole."

"He is," you nod.

He cocks an eyebrow. "I thought you were friends."

"We are, and we might stop being friends. Long story," you sigh.

He nods. "So, uhm, next week is the playoffs, would you like to come?"

"Uhm yeah, of course. I just need to tell you that I know nothing about hockey." You giggle a bit.

"I'll explain anything you need to know," He beams at you.

(...)

𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝.

𝚆𝚑𝚢?

𝙸’𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚘?

𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

White hot jealousy surges through Donghyuck as he reads your last text. Why is he jealous? He has no right to feel jealous when he has been clear to himself you're just his friend and his fuck-buddy. He's into Yujin, right?

He throws his phone to the bed and sits in front of his computer. Why is he so upset? Is it because he's horny and you're not around? Or is it because he likes you?

Bullshit.

He shakes his head, removing that thought. He is not in love with you.

Donghyuck stands up and goes to his bed unlocking his phone. He texts Jeno asking if he's busy, who replies back saying no. He needs a beer.

Donghyuck meets Jeno at the regular bar they used to go to. They're sitting next to the bar. Jeno stares at him and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "What?"

"You're grumpier than usual, what's wrong?" Jeno inquires.

"Nothing," Donghyuck has a sip of his beer.

"Is it... maybe y/n?" Jeno hums.

Jeno is tired of it. It seems everyone around you knows that you two are in love, but apparently the two of you can't open your eyes. Or at least Donghyuck.

"No idea what you're talking about," Donghyuck murmurs.

Jeno sighs. "Why do you keep denying it?"

Donghyuck growls. "I'm not denying shit."

Jeno rolls his eyes and crosses his arms on his chest. "You have to be an idiot to not see the way you two look at each other. And the way you two... you know... shagging, you could say it's love. Real love."

"What are you on, Jeno?" Donghyuck glances at him.

"I'm sober, but thanks for your concern," Jeno smirks. "But you my friend, you are high off your ass on feelings."

"Shut up," Donghyuck groans and finishes his beer. He makes the waiter a signal to bring another one.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Jeno dares him.

Donghyuck stares at the beer bottle, thinking. Is Jeno right? Is he high off his ass on feelings for you?

He thinks of you: Donghyuck loves your hair and adores the way you raise your eyebrows when you're talking about something that excites you. Your lips fascinates him and the ease you have when speaking in front of many people seems incredible to him. His heart starts skipping a beat just of the thought of you: you have too much effect on him.

Shit.

Donghyuck is really in love with you.

(...)

Donghyuck sighs as he pulls off his helmet and wipes at his sweaty brow. The air is cold against his skin and he can see his hot breath. He is tired as the second period ends, he skates across the ice towards the exit. He has 5 minutes before the third period starts.

Donghyuck drinks water before sitting on the bench. The ice hockey arena is full, with both schools attending the game. He sees some people he knows, some of his friends: Jungwoo, Renjun, Yangyang and Jisung. Jeno is in the team with him.

Then his sight freezes on someone that looks like you. Donghyuck stares at her for a couple of seconds to later realize it's you. You're there with Johnny and someone he doesn't know.

He frowns. You hate hockey, what are you doing there?

He follows your face, smiling to someone and he curses when he sees who you're waving your hand off.

Fucking Mark Lee.

Of course he had seen his face before and the day of the party, when you were dancing with him he thought he had seen him before.

That's who you are dating.

Donghyuck feels sad, knowing that you never accepted to go to one of his games and there you are, cheering for someone else.

"I swear that girl looks like y/n," Jeno tells him.

"It's y/n," Donghyuck states, grabbing his helmet.

"Huh?" Jeno gives him a confused look.

"She's dating Mark."

“The Mark Lee we hate?” Jeno shakes his head. “That’s… unexpected.”

“Whatever,” Donghyuck puts on his helmet.

You would lie if you say you haven't been seeing Donghyuck. He's so smooth the ice, he moves as if he had been born on the ice. Then you would cheer for Mark's team even tho, deep down, you want Donghyuck's team to win.

Jeno chases the puck behind the back of the net. Shovels it out to Donghyuck, past the waiting stick Sicheng's stick. Donghyuck takes it up the ice, looking for an open. Ten shakes free of Mark, makes himself available. Donghyuck takes the open, approaching the blue line, passes the puck to Ten, but Mark takes the puck up the right—oh! And Donghyuck goes down hard! He deals out a devastating hit. There's a whistle. Oh, this is not good. He’s not getting up.

The entire bench is on their feet in an instant. Jeno has ripped his helmet off and skates over with as much speed as his bulky pads could muster, shooing away the circle of their concerned team mates.

Donghyuck hasn't moved since he has fallen, his limbs locked in the same position they had been just before the hit.

"Why is he not moving, Johnny?" You ask.

"I don't know," he states.

You leave your seat, almost running towards the ice rink. They don't let you in and you argue you need to make sure he is okay.

Jeno kneels beside Donghyuck, he can see that his dark eyes are unblinking, wide and blank.

“Come on, Hyuck breathe for me,” Jeno says insistently.

"Hyuck!" He hears you scream. "Hyuck!"

Donghyuck draws a few stuttering breaths as he slowly swims towards something resembling consciousness. It becomes readily apparent that he can't move his left arm. "Let her in."

"What?" Jeno frowns.

"y/n," Donghyuck tries to lean forward.

Jeno turns and sees you arguing with the security guard. "She can't get on the ice without skates, she could get hurt."

Donghyuck groans and watches the paramedics bring the backboard out.

“I can walk off,” Donghyuck slurs.

“Hell no, you're no—“

Jeno is interrupted as the crowd erupts all around them. Lifting his head quickly, he spots Mark and Sicheng throwing their gloves off and locking together. Helmets are ripped off, jerseys pulled and punches thrown wildly. Before Donghyuck can shout at his team partner, the cry from the crowd goes up again. Ten and Taeyong (a guy from Mark's team) separate them.

Donghyuck leans over the backboard as they prepare to carry him off the ice. "We're so doomed."

(...)

“A five minute penalty for interference and game misconduct? That’s a fucking disgrace,” Ten grouses.

“The board’s reviewing it. With a hit like that, he should get a harsher punishment,” Jeno adds.

“If he’s not suspended for the rest of the games, someone’s getting my stick shoved up their arse,” Sicheng says.

A murmur of agreement goes around the room.

“I thought the nurse said only three visitors at a time,” Donghyuck rasps, not bothering to try to lift his head. He can't even keep his eyes open. It makes the room spin. Everything seems… too loud. And the pain on his right collarbone is too much.

“Oh, so you are awake. Here we were all worrying about you and you’re faking,” Jeno says teasingly.

Donghyuck can't bring himself to rise to the bait. Keeping himself awake is hard enough work as it is.

“…Hyuck?” You call as you open the door slightly.

The room is silent for a few moments and the guys look at you. Donghyuck opens his eyes and spots your head between the door. "Leave. Now." He's talking to his team mates.

Jeno, Sicheng and Ten leave the room. You say goodbye to them as they leave the room. You walk standing next to him and realize he's wearing a triangular sling. "Hey."

"Hey," he greets. "Disappointed to know I didn't die?"

"Shut up," you look at him. "I was so worried."

"You pushed a security guard," he cocks an eyebrow at you.

You giggle. "He wouldn't let me in. I wanted to make sure you were okay," you place a hand on his.

"And I appreciate that, you could've gotten hurt," he takes your hand to his lips and places a soft kiss.

You sigh at the scene. "I don't care."

"I do," his eyes dart to you.

"Why don't you get some rest?" You sit next to him.

"I’m having surgery in a bit," he rests his hands interlocked with yours on his chest.

"What? Why?" You ask worried.

"Broken collarbone," he sighs.

"Oh, Hyuck," you lower your head sadly.

"I'll be fine," he squeezes your hand. "And I'll be right back in the ice to beat your boyfriend up."

"Mark's not my boyfriend," you say quickly. "And after today, I don't want to see him ever again."

"It was an accident; these things happen y/n."

"He knows about us, he heard me talking to Johnny about it today before the game," you don't look at him in the eye. "I’m sorry, Hyuck."

"Hey," he frees your hand and cups your face. "This isn't your fault, okay? Don't torture yourself, it's not your fault he couldn't handle it."

You nod. A nurse enters the room telling you they need to prepare him for surgery. You say goodbye to him and kiss his cheek.

"Just lay there, Hyuck," Jeno helps him to lay on his bed. He has been discharged from the hospital that morning and his friends are taking turns to take care of him.

"I'm so fucking high, dude," Hyuck laughs, squeezing his eyes. "What are on these meds? I feel like flying."

"Those are your painkillers, my friend," Jeno shakes his head, "enough of them for you today."

There's a knock on the door and Jeno walks to it. He opens it and he sees you with a bag of food. You smile. "Hi, Jeno."

"Hey, come in," he says.

You thank him and follow him. As you reach Donghyuck's room, Jeno stops. "Now, I should warn you, he’s pretty out of it,” he says.

“That’s fine,” You reply . “I think I can handle it."

He nods. "I have practice, I'll be back later, okay?"

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," you say.

You enter the room and you are greeted with the sight of Donghyuck reclining on his bed, looking a million miles away. You walk over to peer down at him.

“Hey Hyuck. How are you feeling?”

Jon tilts his head to look up at you. “y/n? Issat you?”

You smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Those pain meds did a number on you, huh?”

“I’m so happy to see you too,“ he says, smiling at you.

You beam wider, his dark eyes are unfocused but still shining brightly. It is unfair, how gorgeous his eyes are.

"Get some rest, Hyuck," you grab a blanket to tuck him.

He stares at you, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. “No! I wanna cuddle with you!”

"Okay okay," you say and you manage to get him tucked under the blankets. As soon as you're finished, you sit down and he rests his head on your chest.

"This is my favorite place," he states, tracing his fingers on your skin.

"Because my boobs are close to your face?" You mock him.

"Because I can hear your heart beating for me," he smiles.

You choke a sound. What is he saying?

"Cheesy," you mock him again.

"I love you."

You chuckle, nervously. "You're so high."

"I am high but I love you." He stares at you. "I fucking love you, y/n."

You press your lips together. "Let's talk about this when you're not high up on meds."

(...)

It's been two weeks since you have seen Donghyuck. Two weeks since he told you he loves you. You don't know if he is regretful for what he told you or he didn't mean it.

Of course your pride won't let you text him and you learn from Jeno he has gotten his stitches removed and he will be back in practice in 8 weeks since he has some recovery to do.

You're exiting the library when you feel someone grabs your hand. You turn to see who is there and you see Donghyuck smiling. "Hello, baby cheeks."

You cross your arms on your chest. "And finally the devil shows up."

"Devil? I'm hurt," he places a hand on his chest.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heels. He sighs and grabs your arm. "Okay, I deserve that. But hey, I want to talk with you." He says as he stands in front of you.

"About what?" You cock an eyebrow. “Or you wanna fuck me and don't talk to me for days?

He lowers his head. “No. I wanna talk about us.”

"We're not fucking," you state.

"We are not," he nods.

That is a lie. Back in his dorm, you two are kissing, desperately. You walk over towards the bed, still kissing. It's a soft loving kiss that makes your heart melt. His kiss is sweet, probably from something he ate, and slow. He breaks away to look at you, "I love you" he whispers.

"So do I" you say.

He smiles and goes in for another kiss, this time a little more fiery, it's still slow but now he's using his tongue to lick at your bottom lip, eyes fluttered closed.

You tug on his hair ever so slightly, you know he likes that. He moans quietly and you bite his lip. He gets on top of you, and you can start to feel the start of an erection on your leg.

At this point both your tongues are swirling together. He slowly brings his hand up from your waist, to under your breast and cups your breast with his, squeezing it, all while looking him directly in the eye. His erection feels stronger now. You push your knee upward to create some type of friction between him and your thigh and he groans.

Donghyuck plays with your nipple through your bra, right hand still gripping your waist, tight. He pinches and pulls your nipple in a way that causes you to roll your hips forward and moan his name.

He flips you over and now he's beneath you and you're sitting on his lap, feeling his cock in your clothed ass. You start to grind on his hips, the outline of his cock can be felt even through the layers of your clothing. You can feel the heat emanating from it and you can't help but rock your hips against his gently. “Look at me,” he orders.

You look at him, his pupils are dilated and his cheeks up to his neck and shoulders have the prettiest blush on it.

You are gripping the edge of his shirt, looking so utterly innocent. He dives for your next and start nipping, placing light bites and kisses as he abuses that one sensitive spot

“Hyuck please” you feel tickling sensations that feel really good. That gasses Donghyuck up because he loves nothing more than hearing your groans and moans.You feel the slight moisture gathering on your underwear.

“Use your words, baby. ,” he says while he continues sucking and licking on that sensitive part of your neck. His hands start wandering and are now placed on top of your breast, kneading and lightly brushing your erect nipples through your bra.

“Please,” you ground your hips on his growing erection. He answers back by gripping your exposed thighs, putting a stop to the teasing he did on your breast.

“Please what baby?” he teases. Donghyuck is doing little circles with his thumbs as he grips your thighs. You feel him smiling against your neck before he bites hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You moan. “Please fuck me,” you finally answer.

“Why should i?” Donghyuck asks, very visibly teasing, letting his teeth run through your shoulder.

“Please, I'm so wet for you and I missed you so much. Please Hyuck."

Donghyuck has the audacity to chuckle. Remove my shirt then,” he challenges.

Obedient as you are, you hurriedly take off his shirt and start pressing bites and kisses on his exposed chest. You give a soft kiss on his scar where he had surgery weeks ago. He can't help but let out his groans of pleasure. His large hands are back on your chest, massaging your breasts through the fabric, gently running his hands through then and giving them a squeeze, the cycle repeats again. Then, with a little help from you, he unclasped your bra. You take it off. You kiss him again.

“Wait baby,” he starts, eyes scanning the expanse of your chest. “I want to eat you out." He finishes.

You nod at his proposal. You get off from his lap (your arousal slightly darkening a patch on his light jeans) and you lay on your back. Donghyuck goes in front of you and plops on his stomach. You are buzzing with anticipation as he spreads your legs open, hands caressing your thighs and ghosting over that area where you want it the most. Donghyuck lifts his head a little to admire you: breathing heavily, erect nipples and the undeniable arousal drenching your pink lace panties.

Donghyuck's arousal is straining through his sweatpants so he decides to discard it. He is left in his white, skin tight boxers with a faint outline of his dick. Then, he situates himself between your thighs. Instead of removing your panties, he decides to tease you a little through them, gently sliding his middle finger up and down your clothed wetness.

“So fucking wet, baby” he muses.

You bite your finger as he torturously drags his long finger up and down your clothed cunt.

“Ah shit,” you moan. "Fuck me good, Hyuck."

He pulls your underwear aside and starts dragging his finger on your cunt for real. He does small shallow thrusts and proceeds to drag his finger out. Donghyuck is doing this repeatedly almost in a torturous manner.

"Fuck, go faster,"

He doesn't go faster. Instead he situates himself between your legs and puts his tongue on your soaked cunt. You can't help but moan as he licks a stripe up while spreading your lips, maximizing the sensitivity you feel. You are gripping his sheets hard and moaning his name along with strings of “oh fuck, yes please”. He moves his mouth upwards and starts licking your clit, putting harsh but enjoyable pressure. Donghyuck proceeds to put a finger inside you slowly, up to his second knuckle, then another one, drawing out a moan.

“Look at my fingers baby, so fucking wet.” he lifted his fingers up for you to see.

“I want more, faster, Hyuck, I’m going to cum.”

He smiles at you. “No. you’re not allowed to cum until I fuck you with my dick.”

You groan. You look at him and he is now kneeling, a hand situated on his now somewhat translucent boxers, outline of his dick now visible. He then strokes himself through his boxers as he stares right at you. Donghyuck is biting his lip softly as he takes out his dick and starts playing with the tip.

“You like it when I stroke myself while you watch, baby?” His eyes are hooded and he is already sweaty.

“Yes,” you said. “fuck yes.”

“Put it in your mouth,” Donghyuck motions for you to come closer.

You put his dick in your mouth and start engulfing his dick. His abdomen becomes taut as he groans and starts threading his hand on your hair.

“So good, baby. Always so good,” he rasps.

You continue hollowing your cheek and putting him in your mouth as deep as you can. You bob your head up and down and when you look up, Donghyuck looks absolutely

“Baby,” Donghyuck's voice is husky. “Baby stop, i want to cum inside you."

“Lie on your back,” Donghyuck commands as he strips himself of his boxers.

You waste no time and you lay on your back, waiting for his instructions. He props a pillow under your head and by doing so, you feel his erection on your thigh. He takes one last glance at you: nipples fully erect, cheeks flushed, your body sweaty, and your pussy absolutely drenched. He then starts inserting his dick in your aching pussy.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he chants. “you’re so fucking tight and wet.” Then he pushes himself up to the hilt.

“Full,” you whisper and meet his eyes, “so dman full.”

Donghyuck groans and starts thrusting at an erratic pace. It feels so full and hot that you can’t stop moaning his name over and over again. You can feel his cock slide in and out of your soaked cunt. He clasps his hands just above where your ribs end firmly as he starts fucking you faster, hips snapping up and you can’t help but arch your back.

Donghyuck is definitely enjoying the view and he reaches his hand out to pinch your nipples. You moan. You can definitely feel your impending orgasm.

“Hyuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum,” you look at him and his thrusts go harder. “oh god I’m gonna cum Donghyuck.”

“Cum, baby.” He puts his hand on your clit and starts rubbing with his thumb, hoping to bring you closer to orgasm.

You feel the coil getting tighter and hotter. Then you come, long and hard and your body feels like jelly.

"I'm almost there baby, fuck," he chants as he trusts so deliciously in you and your body can't take much longer. You know he has the full intention of overstimulating you and it feels good. His cock feels so raw in your pussy and you can't help but feel another orgasm.

The feeling of his cock sliding so smoothly inside of you then out then in again while your chests were in such close proximity and he is directly groaning in your ear. Donghyuck seems to be enjoying himself as his groans are becoming huskier and more prolonged as he told you, “Baby you’re so fucking tight, so tight around my cock.” He goes back to kissing you sloppily, your teeth biting his lower lip as he glares at you so menacingly and hot.

“Hyuck, baby I’m g-going to cum again.” you inform him as he lifts himself and wipes with drool on the edge of your mouth.

“Let’s cum together, eh?” he asks and you nod.

Donghyuck pulls out of you and you are about to protest until he speaks “Ass up for me baby,” he says.

Your body sings in anticipation as this is the first time, after a long while, he is going to take you from behind. You stuck your ass out and you feel him slap your cunt then insert his finger in your pussy and slaps your ass this time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he starts. then he suddenly thrust his dick inside your pussy and moans in your ear, “So fucking good.” Donghyuck then starts to grip your breasts from behind, pinching your nipples as his thrusts became more erratic.

“’Gonna cum, shit shit” He groans. The rhythmic slapping of your bodies is so sinful it turns him on.

You moan gripping his sheets, you can swear your knuckles are so white from the grip.

“I'm so close baby, so close.” Donghyuck is massaging your breast.

“Hyuck, please, Hyuck I'm so close.”

Donghyuck's thrusts are getting more erratic and you are positive that you’re going to cum soon. Then, you feel Donghyuck hugging you from behind. The act feels so intimate that you can't help but clench and then both of you are cumming. Donghyuck gives one last thrust then he pulls out. He look at your backside: his cum dripping out from your cunt, then to your thighs and that looks absolutely erotic.

“I'm gonna clean you up, okay baby?" He says, “Just lay there and I’ll take care of you.”

He goes to get towels and you lay on your back. He comes back and passes the small towel over your thighs and then your pussy carefully, knowing you're still sensitive. “Feeling okay?” he asks when he finishes it up, throwing the towel somewhere in the room and laying on the bed next to you.

You hum, smiling lazily at him. “just sleepy.” You reply and he moves to press a small kiss on your lips.

"Then sleep, baby," he surrounds you with his arms, you resting your head on his chest.

You raise your head a bit, looking at him. "Are you sleeping with me?"

He nods. His finger touches the tip of your nose and he smirks. “I never notice you had a mole here.” He says.

"Yeah, you're kind of a dick," you giggle, tracing his abdomen with your fingers.

"I am," he sighs. "I'm sorry. I was too selfish denying my feelings for you and thought behaving like a dick would push you away."

"And I almost did," he kisses the top of your head. "I'm sorry, y/n."

"It's okay," you say. "As long as you don't do it again because this time I'm gonna be the one breaking your other collarbone."

He laughs. "I'm not ever letting you go, baby. I love you."

"I love you."

#Donghyuck smut #Donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagine #Haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct haechan #nct haechan x reader

210 notes · View notes