#college aus almost feel like my roots at this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Inevitable (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Chapter Word count: 7.2k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: So appreciative of your love for this story! I’m quite nervous with this one because I had to make changes last minute so I hope you still enjoy it. Also, you can message me if you want to be part of the taglist (or if I missed tagging you)!

Series Masterlist || Previous || Next

“Thank you again, Mr. Jeon. Quite frankly, this still feels surreal but we’re so glad you’re back.”

Jungkook bows at the man, one of the executives of the Doosan Bears, one he’d just had a meeting with, which followed an interview with a sports writer.

For the past week, Jungkook’s days have been filled with meeting and talking to many people, forcing smiles and making conversations that quite frankly tire him but he welcomes this, knowing that any beat of silence will just force his mind to settle on you. And his pain. And his anger.

The man stops him in the hallway to point at a frame of the elder Jeon holding up the team’s 1999 championship trophy.

“Hopefully you’ll have one, too, and we’ll place it right next to this,” he says, a statement that Jungkook’s been hearing in a variety of forms the past few days of interviews and appearances.

It’s different this time because his father had achieved so many things back here, a national hero if people wanted to stretch it. Here, Jungkook has to live up to expectations, which many people believe he’ll exceed. His father, a good player and an even better leader, had been loved by many in the sports world, and it’s an honor they get to watch Jungkook play in the flesh, reminiscent of the man that many adored.

In the US, they didn’t know his father, so Jungkook was able to pave his own path there, make a name for himself guided only by the thought and dream of his hero, and not living in his shadow. It’s a dream they shared and one he’d achieved.

But for the first time, it doesn’t comfort Jungkook. For the first time, it angers him. It’s that dream that took you away from him, that took Jungwon away from him. It’s this dream that essentially broke his heart in ways he never imagined.

Everyone is quiet as they absorb everything that Jungkook has said. Since that day at your apartment, he’d been radio silent when it came to his friends, but he’s here at Jin’s loft now, with Jimin whom he’s still cold towards, and Yoongi and Hoseok who complete the group, as they’re Jin’s and Namjoon’s friends from college who’d gotten close to the young ones, too.

They’re glad they finally have the time to just be together after a crazy week. Ironically, it’s a somber event. This isn’t how they imagined welcoming the young one home.

They’re incomplete though. By nature of the concern at hand, Taehyung isn’t around; he’d left the group chat anyway so he wouldn’t have known that Jungkook messaged - finally, after a week of bombarding everyone with messages about you only to stop after he stormed out of your apartment. Namjoon is also not here, still not checking their group chat.

“Wow, I can’t believe ___ was pregnant all that time and had been able to keep the kid from us for years,” Hoseok finally speaks up, shock still evident in his voice. He’d been the one most vocal in stating what everyone else was thinking, the rest opting to just shut up and leave the talking to Jungkook, who’s now allowed himself to once again feel all the emotions in the presence of his friends.

They know that very little things get to him - whether they’re external stressors, outside pressure, naysayers, envious people, or school, he’d always been able to manage them.

He rarely gets angry, too, and doesn’t really let negative feelings fester, so Jungkook with a piercing gaze, pursed lips, flared nostrils, and clenched fists, as he is right now, is an unfamiliar sight to them.

And it’s all because of you.

Jungkook never took the very few relationships he had before you seriously; he’d been too focused on the sport ever since he was a kid.

But you captured him immediately and since that day at the field when he’d thrown a baseball and almost hit Taehyung on the arm and you’d shouted at Jungkook relentlessly for being a careless jerk, he knew that he’d want to shut you up with kisses just so you could get mad at him again.

He’d been a cheeky sophomore then, enjoying the bit of popularity he was gaining in Seoul for being an immediate standout of their university’s baseball team - the Pride of Busan, he’d been called - and he hadn’t expected this beautiful woman to almost knock him out for almost hitting her friend, even if Taehyung had been adamant that the hit was several centimeters off.

“I have better aim than that,” Jungkook had told you smugly, and his heart fluttered at the gagging face you made.

He wasn’t usually that bold but he felt it was worth it, especially if it was to see you scowl then try to hide a smile after. It took a few days until you’d given him more than 5 minutes of your time, then another few weeks before you finally agreed to a date, and then just two months to convince you that he was definitely worthy to be something more.

You both knew you’d fallen in love with each other even before either of you said it, the words always catching in your throats whenever you tried, but then he finally did, and he was over the moon when you’d said it back and he’d never been happier.

Even when you walked out that door and out of his life that December evening, he’d held onto you, your lingering presence enough for you to still be his anchor, his love, his guiding light.

He never thought that at one point, he’d beg for that to not be you. Just the thought of you sends him into a spiral, not of heartbreak or despair like before, he reckons that was even better; but of the feeling of resentment and betrayal.

Everyone’s chatter faints into background noise for a while, with Jungkook’s friends saying maybe you’d come back to Seoul only recently, hearing from Namjoon that you stayed in Daejeon with your cousin to work at a tech company. It had been a mystery how none of them caught up sooner, having only seen you twice a year at most and not knowing anything else.

“Ask Jimin,” Jungkook chimes in bitterly. “He was in on it anyway.”

The three older men turn to the man in question, Jimin meeting their curious gazes with a guilty look, knowing at some point Jungkook would grill him.

“Remember that woman I dated two years ago, the teacher?” He sighs.

Everyone nods.

“I surprised her one time at the daycare center where she was working. That’s how I bumped into ___. It was pretty obvious at first glance that Jungwon is Kook’s kid. I mean,” Jimin smiles, thinking about the little boy who’s taken his heart as well, reminding him of the best parts of Jungkook that's laid dormant for years. “Wide eyes, shy smile, puffy cheeks and soft features. It was unmistakable.”

Jimin remembers that day well, how flustered you’d been, arriving at the daycare an hour late and profusely apologizing to the staff. He’d stopped you then, his shocked face enough to let you know what he was thinking as you held the boy in your arms. It didn’t take long for you to tell him the truth, begging him not to tell his best friend.

“He’s finally playing in the major league, Jimin. There are too many good things going on for him there. I mean he— he’s happy. It won’t do good for me to tell him now,” you’d told him.

Jimin could’ve pressed more, should’ve gone to the root of your decision to hide it in the first place, or maybe even convinced you to tell Jungkook the truth, but you looked too stressed, a permanent fixture on your face, he thought, and he didn’t want to push it.

So he left it at that, knowing as well that between the pressure to do well and the rumors going around, this type of news would be a big hit to Jungkook. Ultimately, Jimin didn’t think it was his place to meddle; the most he could do was support you any way he could.

“How is he, the kid?” Jin questions, knowing his cousin would want to know but is too stubborn and angry to ask.

“The sweetest,” Jimin beams. “He’s pretty shy but becomes playful once he’s warmed up to you. He’s smart, just like ___, and is so caring, he's very affectionate and even talks to insects and—“ he pauses, as Yoongi nudges his knee and motions for him to stop.

Jungkook is still, jaws clenched again at the thought that these are things he doesn’t know and for obvious reasons. Thinking about how Taehyung and Jimin have done so much more for and with his own kid hurts him.

He loves his friends, knows he should be thankful that they’d been there for you and Jungwon but he can’t shake off the frustration, the jealousy. He wonders if any other man had the privilege of getting to know his son that way, of getting close to him.

He wonders, too, if any other man had gotten close to you. That’s a pang in his chest he doesn’t want to dwell on.

“Look, I’m really sorry, Kook. But a lot of things were happening with you then, too and I didn’t want to just drop that news to you. It would have been too much and—“

“You too?” Jungkook huffs. “I fucking hate it when people think they can just decide on such things about my life without me having a say. Wouldn't that piss you off if it happened to you?”

He’s met with silence.

It’s what gets him, really, the fact that people he trusted couldn’t afford him the decency of letting him decide, of trusting him that whatever happens, he was gonna figure it out.

“Wanna know what I think?” Yoongi speaks up.

“No,” Jungkook responds.

“That was hypothetical,” Yoongi says and shifts in his seat. “We all know ___. She’s very self-assured, sometimes to a fault, but she’s not rash, she’s not selfish. She might have decided on her own but it doesn’t mean she didn’t consider you.”

“She still should’ve talked to me about it. It was too big of a decision to not include me in it,” Jungkook retorts.

“But she was right, wasn’t she? You would have stayed. She knows you too well that you would’ve given up everything.”

“Why does everyone make it sound so bad? Of course I would’ve. That’s my son! I’m not the kind of person who would turn his back on that responsibility,” Jungkook bites back.

“It isn’t bad, but that’s precisely the point. Did you ask yourself why she thought it was worth it? Why she believed that the better option was to not be truthful for as long as you got to live out your dream? For as long as you got to reap the benefits of what you’ve worked so hard for?” Yoongi posits.

Jungkook stills, lips starting to quiver as he processes his friend’s questions.

“Baseball has always been your whole world, Jungkook. She shared you with it. It was all you talked about - the dream, what it meant to you, the connection with your father, the joy you’d feel when playing and hearing the cheers… We knew that, she knew that,” Yoongi continues.

“Your dream made you, Kook. It was all you knew, and she never complained. She loved you the same. And even with all your anger towards her right now, you know she wouldn’t try to take that dream away from you. Even if it means hurting both of you in the process.”

“But she meant so much to me, too. I would’ve done anything for her, and I thought she knew that,” Jungkook whimpers. He’d never once doubted what he felt for you and he always thought it was enough.

“Yeah, but do you think that was her first thought when she found out she was pregnant? That you’d give up your dream for her without any consequences down the line? She knew you would’ve stayed because you’re the kind of person to do that, but she also knew what that would mean, what that would do to you, and what that would do to them.”

Yoongi, ever the wise one of the group, makes everyone think.

The silence is deafening, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way the guys have taken to slight nods and furrowed brows.

“Baseball was too important to you. She probably believed you’d lose more if you didn’t take the opportunity then. Not being there for her and your son was something she maybe thought you could always make up for,” Yoongi states.

Of your brother’s friends, Yoongi had always been the one you were closest to, spent the most nights at parties with, talking and agreeing on things. This is probably why he gets it, gets why you felt like you had to do what you did.

“Kook, don’t think she never planned on telling you. She never meant to keep it a secret forever,” Jimin says, recalling your claims that you just needed the right time to eventually tell Jungkook. “Maybe that’s why you’re even more frustrated; maybe you think she never wanted to involve you. Of course she does. You were her whole world and—“

“Baseball was mine,” Jungkook finishes, resigning to the idea that that's what you always thought, and you weren’t wrong. “She thinks I’d resent them down the road if I stayed and gave up on my dream.”

“I love you, Kook, but that fear is valid,” Jin says. “I’m not saying I agree with her decision but I think I get where she’s coming from.”

“But hey, you have all the right to be angry,” Hoseok says, disrupting the silence that’s enveloped everyone again. “Just don’t be so consumed by it, okay? You’re back, you have more of a reason to stay, so just think of where you need to go from here. You have all of us, you and ___ and Jungwon have all of us.”

Jungkook wipes off the tears that have silently fallen down his cheeks, the most he’s cried in front of his friends in years. It had been a change on his end after the break up - the walls he put up, the control he had over his emotions, the once soft heart hardening in places to make sure he wouldn’t hurt as much again. He hates to admit that it had all been because of you.

Jin’s phone rings and cuts through the silence that’s tainted with short sniffles.

“Namjoon saw the chat, wonders if he could come,” Jin asks.

“No need, I’m gonna leave soon,” Jungkook responds.

Jin relays the message to Namjoon who sends his own, then finishes the call.

“He said he wants to check up on you, too. You should meet up with him, I think it’d be good. It’s Namjoon, Kook. He loves his sister to death but you know he’ll be objective about it, too. Think about it, okay?”

Jungkook nods then lets some time pass before he leaves.

He thinks about it that night until the wee hours of the morning. For the first time, he thinks about what you felt the moment you found out, about what you were feeling and thinking that led you to decide to break up, and if you really planned on making him believe that you didn’t think it’d work out to cover up the truth.

Everything the guys said tonight rings in his head. What made you think this was the better option? What made you think he’d lose more if he gave up on the dream instead of being in your and Jungwon’s life? Why did you think his dream was more important than his life with you? Why did you think he’d resent you down the road?

It’s not lost on him that his dream seemed to trump everything else. It would always go back to that, it would always be about that, how even during that life-changing moment of you finding out you were carrying his child, what you considered was him and baseball.

He recalls the days leading up to the break up, how your conversations had been about his move, but never about the two of you. He chalked it up to thinking it was a given, that of course you’d stay together. He never realized that it wasn’t actually clear to you; it had been a given to him but not to you.

Jungkook doesn’t remember fights about lack of time because of training, or him not being in the mood after a bad game. Everything you’ve ever been to him was patient, understanding, and accepting of the sport he’d dedicated his whole life to, like it was a given, like it was the most important thing, like it was the third party in your relationship. And you never complained.

He loved you for that and more, for the fighter that you were, for the strong and goal-oriented woman that you were, for the thoughtful and warm-hearted person you’ve always been. He loved you so much. He’d fallen so hard that he willingly gave you his heart and let you do whatever you wanted with it, as long you had it. Because of that, you hurt him so terribly, he didn’t know how he could recover.

He thinks now that maybe it was on him, too. Maybe he didn’t tell you enough just how much you meant to him. Maybe he could’ve done more, appreciated you more, or at least let you know that you were just as much a part of his plan the way baseball was.

Maybe then you would’ve trusted him that you two would work it out, that it would be okay if he had to let go of his dream to be the partner that you needed, to be the father you needed him to be for your child.

But maybe you both didn’t know any better, he also thinks. You were so young, maybe it was too much to ask you to trust him, maybe you were also right not to. He’d definitely grown up the past years, and maybe he wouldn’t have if you didn’t break his heart the way you did.

He thinks about how you’d been the past years, too, how you took care of Jungwon on your own, how hard it must’ve been for you. But any more and he knows he’ll break down, and he doesn’t trust himself doing that alone.

He sighs at all the thoughts in his head and his mixed emotions. But his friends are right. He’s home now - he has all the resources, the time - what matters is what happens next.

He wants to understand better, and to know what you went through but he can’t bring himself to ask you. He knows you’ll brush off the sacrifices, the struggles; you never wanted to make others see your vulnerability, know of your weakest moments. So he decides to ask someone else. It’s 4AM but he doesn’t care.

[To: Namjoon]: Can we meet up? Jin’s bar at 7pm. See you.

“Uncle Tete, I choose this one!” Jungwon excitedly says, pointing at a toy submarine on the shelf. Taehyung is quick to retrieve the item then puts it in the cart.

“Okay, what else does this muffin want?”

“Tae, I said one thing,” you sigh. “Also, can you make sure that toy doesn’t have removable parts so he doesn’t attract kind strangers to help him?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes but Jimin chuckles next to you. “___, that broken airplane brought you to Jungkook. Plus, Jungwon wandered away; imagine if some other stranger found him,” he says.

“Shut up, I’m traumatized. That wasn’t the best way to let Jungkook know. Plus, I was so flustered that I lied and said I was babysitting,” you groan to yourself. You always knew how to carry yourself but it was really only Jungkook who ever made you feel nervous.

“I made it seem like I really meant to lie and you know that’s not true. I just didn’t know he was gonna be back. And you didn’t tell me,” you glare at Jimin.

“You think I didn’t give him shit for not telling me?” He replies. “Only Jin knew. Even I didn’t think he’d actually sign with the Bears. Everything was so fast. Before I knew it, he was already boarding a plane back home.”

“Well, he did say he didn’t wanna bug you since you’ve been so busy with your show,” Tae says from the shelf next to you. “Jungwon wants this puppy towel, by the way. Can I buy it for him?”

“Tae, I said just one thing. Stop spoiling him. We’re supposed to buy his school supplies,” you whine.

“Right, his father’s gonna hate me even more,” he mumbles.

“Okay, muffin. Mama said just one thing. Let’s go look at crayons now,” Tae tells Jungwon who smiles back at him and agrees.

“How’s rehearsal by the way?” You ask Jimin.

“Good. Just a few more weeks and we’re ready to go,” he says, excited over the Swan Lake show that his company is putting on. You’re excited, too, certain he’s going to do well. Being a professional ballerina is so much work but he’s always exceeded expectations. You know it can get stressful so maybe that’s why Jungkook didn’t bother informing him earlier.

“You’re watching, okay? The first show and the last, it’s when everyone is watching, too,” he says.

“You don’t have to ask, Jimin. Of course, I’ll be there. Sucks that Jungwon won’t get to see his uncle perform though.”

“Okay, just making sure, since Jungkook is here and all.”

“You should ask him, then. He’s the one who detests me,” you sigh.

“He doesn’t detest you, ___. He’s just angry, and with reason.”

You don’t miss the stern tone of his voice. You always felt the disappointment that Jimin felt towards you with what happened, even stayed away for a while after the breakup. Moving back to your parents’ home had been a good escape, seeing as how you didn’t know how to face your friends after everything.

It wasn’t until 2 years ago when Jimin bumped into you at the daycare that you two got to talking again. You know he decided to stick around for Jungwon, but it always worried you that he’d eventually tell Jungkook but he never did, which you were thankful for.

“I never said it wasn’t justified. I mean, after last week, I hope he stays angry at me, you know? And for a long time. I deserve that.”

“Hey, don’t talk that way.”

“You think I’m wrong? That I don’t deserve his anger?”

Jimin sighs. The department store really isn’t the best place for this but he proceeds anyway.

“It’s not that. I mean, it’s one thing to hurt him by suddenly breaking up with. And I won’t lie to you, ___, you broke him. That night, I found him curled in a ball by the door, unmoving, kind of like how I used to find him when we were younger… after his dad died.”

You release a long breath, not even wanting to imagine a balled-up Jungkook, sobbing. You heard him that night, how he begged for you to please don’t go. You walked away from the closed door then, as any moment longer would’ve just made you take it back.

“But it’s also another thing to lie about his son,” Jimin continues.

“You know I had to do it; he wouldn’t have agreed to break up if I didn’t make him believe that I didn’t want him anymore. And I had to keep Jungwon from him because I couldn’t let him stay. I mean, Jungkook and I just couldn’t be together, it wasn’t that easy.“

“Weren’t there other options?” Jimin wonders. “Maybe like, I don’t know, going with him?”

He’d heard Jungkook mention in passing before about possibly asking you to go with him but he doesn’t know if his best friend ever got to ask.

No one really knows what happened that night; Jungkook never said anything more than it’s over. No explanations, no follow-ups. Three days later, he talked to the school administration and requested for an early completion of his requirements so he could leave for the US as soon as possible.

“It never really entered my mind… I mean, I got pregnant after the deal was finalized and that was not an option at all,” you explain. “It would’ve been too hard, too scary. I mean, we were still so young and to be in a foreign place, by ourselves, with a child? And we were just together for 2 years, that would’ve been a huge step and—“

“Did you doubt what he felt?”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk as if you didn’t think you were ready as a couple for that step. You two loved each other so much. He loved you so, so much, ___. Doesn’t matter how hard things would’ve been, he would’ve done everything he could to make sure you two would make it, he would’ve done whatever he needed to make you happy.”

“It’s not that simple, Jimin. He needed support there, needed someone to help him and make things easier, not someone - more like two people - to take care of and what would have I done for him? What would have I offered?”

“That wouldn’t have mattered though, right? He always wanted to make you happy, being with you would’ve been enough, I mean, he loved you that much.”

Jimin is met with silence, and it hits him what Yoongi was pointing out the night before, and it crushes him. Maybe if you knew just how much you mattered to Jungkook, maybe you would’ve trusted him, maybe you would’ve trusted the both of you.

You let out a deep sigh instead. You never doubted Jungkook’s love for you; you just knew there were other more important things, things he‘s dedicated much more time on, unlike you.

You shake the thoughts away. You know that dwelling on the what if’s won’t help your mind and your heart, especially now.

You and Jimin settle on watching Taehyung help Jungwon decide on which crayons and colored clay to choose for art class, smiling at the little boy who’s been nothing but the sweetest angel.

Your smile fades away though, at the thought of how it must be for him too, meeting all these men who always introduce themselves as his uncle, never his father.

Jungwon had asked you only twice - one time when he asked if he was made of magic because there was this older kid in the playground who said that her mommy and daddy made her but Jungwon didn’t have a daddy; the other time was more straightforward, just where is Papa.

That kind of pain is truly unmatched, you think, and you settle for telling the little kid that his Papa is somewhere doing good things but that Papa loves him even if he isn’t around. No promises, no false hope. You made the choice and your kid shouldn’t suffer too much for it - you know Jungkook would love him no matter what.

“How has Jungkook been, by the way? And I want the truth, Jimin,” you ask as you save your sad thoughts for another day.

Since you reconnected two years ago, you never really talked about Jungkook and Jimin had always made sure to only bring him up when you asked. Which was never.

Everything is now out in the open though so you think there’s no harm in asking.

“Like I said, you broke him,” he sighs. “He hasn’t really been the same. We were all so worried, that’s why Jin made sure to go with him when he left; it’s why I made sure to visit him twice a year. He just became different, you know? Like a light was put out.”

You let this process for a bit. It had been the same with you, only you had a child to remind you of Jungkook. It had been hard to get over him - you didn’t break up with him because you didn’t love him anymore, anyway; it was the opposite, in fact.

But you had to try to at least move on because at the back of your mind, you knew that things weren’t going to be the same after that. You knew Jungkook would never abandon your son, would never not love him; you are altogether a different story.

“He was doing pretty well though, wasn’t he?” You shift the discussion.

You recall having watched games for the first few years. He’d been signed to the affiliate team of the LA Dodgers and was playing in Oklahoma City. He was an immediate standout and was chosen by the major league team to play in the roster the year after. It was almost meteoric, considering that he was a foreigner and thus, largely unheard of, but he was in tip-top shape, eye-hand coordination impressive, batting skills a dream especially as a rookie, and ran like Flash that it was a nickname the locals used to call him.

“Oh, he was great. Even the man who scouted him didn’t think he would be that great. But that’s expected, I guess, if you spend every waking hour in the gym or in the batting cage, if you follow a strict and intense schedule even during the off-season, and if you have no distractions like friends or girlfriends,” Jimin explains, pointing out all the sacrifices behind the success.

“But Maia—”

“Was probably the first friend he made outside of his team. You’d expect her to be his girlfriend too, right?”

You pause at this. You knew that at some point, Jungkook would move on from you; you did make him believe you didn’t want to be with him anymore, anyway. Yet, it was still a bitter pill to swallow when you found out about his relationship. She was a model-actress, so her presence in the games would often cause a buzz.

“He just changed in a way. There were all these walls up, even from us. You took a very big piece of him, ___. I’m surprised he even got to recover. I was afraid he wasn’t gonna be able to move on from you.”

There’s a pang in your chest at the seeming finality of Jimin’s words. Of course Jungkook would move on from you, of course at one point he’d realize that things would be better without you. You just didn’t think it would hurt like this.

“That’s good for him, then.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, of course,” you say. You hope he doesn’t miss the uncertainty in your voice, that he doesn’t detect the lie.

Jungkook enters the venue and heads straight to the bar where Namjoon is already waiting.

“Scotch, please,” Jungkook calls to the bartender, earning him a remark from the older man about how even his alcoholic preference has upgraded.

“It’s smoother,” Jungkook says, fixing himself on the barstool.

There’s an air of silence between the two men that is almost uncomfortable.

It had never been like this. Namjoon is a protective brother but given that Jin is one of his good friends who’d vouched for the young man, it had been easy for Namjoon to go soft on Jungkook. He saw how much Jungkook cared for you, made you happy, and as your brother, he’ll always be grateful for that.

“How are you?” The older man asks, sipping on his Martini.

“Great. Just found out my ex-girlfriend was pregnant with our son whom I didn’t know existed until a week ago. You?”

“Not great. My parents have been calling me, asking how ___ is and how you are and if things are okay. Don’t exactly know how to break the news that things aren’t actually fine.”

“They must hate me, huh?”

“Nope. You know our parents always stayed out of our relationships. They always liked you, though. But is that what you really wanna know?”

Jungkook exhales, trying to calm himself. He had time to think things through, but facing the emotions had been difficult.

“I just wanna try to understand. I want so badly to justify what she did so I could stop being so angry. I just want to stop feeling… this,” he says, clutching his chest, lips quivering. “It hurts so bad, I just don’t want to feel this anymore.”

Namjoon weakens at the sight of Jungkook like this, desperate to feel something else other than pain, other than anger. He’d heard from Jin how it was so hard for the young man to accept losing you, and then all this? It’s a lot for one person to handle.

“She was so selfish, leaving me like that, thinking I would be okay on my own. And then I finally accepted what happened only to find out that we have a child all this time? Please, please make me understand,” he begs, eyes glassy now.

“Look,” Namjoon says, turning to Jungkook, who, even with his build, has never looked so small.

“I won’t defend her and say that I think she made the right decision. It’s just that she made the best decision she could make at that moment. She knew what was at stake and she felt that choice was the better one,” he explains, similar to what Yoongi had posited.

This is your brother who always had a good read of you and it’s the closest to your thoughts that Jungkook could get.

“She tried to comfort herself everyday by justifying what she did - that you did well, made it to the major league a year later. You did what you set out to do. And I’m sorry to bring this up but when your mother got sick, wasn’t it that you had enough to pay for it all? No debts, no added stress for her? Life was good for you and your mother. It wasn’t the best, but what if you had stayed?” He asks, the question ringing in his head.

How would things be if Jungkook stayed?

“Again, I’m not saying she was right, I’m just saying that things happened the way they did and she made a choice. Any other decision would’ve had other consequences and she made the one she could stand by, that she could live with. I mean, it was all she could do.”

Jungkook thinks about this, how he’d felt comforted, too that he was able to pay for all his mother’s medical bills when it got too much. But life wasn’t good; it was excruciating being away from you, thinking all that time that you really didn’t believe in the both of you, convinced that it wasn’t going to work out.

All he had was the love and joy he got from baseball; it had been enough for him that time. Of course, with what he knows now, it’s different.

Jungkook goes back to what Namjoon asked, about what he really wanted to know.

“Did… did she have a hard time?” Eyes pleading. “Tell me, please.”

Namjoon sighs at this, not knowing how to answer. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Don’t simplify it. I need… I need to know. I need to not feel this. I need to not be angry,” he says, voice strained.

“She won’t want your pity, Jungkook, you know her.”

“Please, Namjoon. You know she’ll never tell me. But I need to know.”

The older man lets out a deep breath, knowing that you indeed wouldn’t tell Jungkook any of this.

“She stayed with my parents in Ilsan after graduation. She was four months along then but was adamant about earning on her own so she took several jobs online. There was a lot of stress but that’s normal, I guess,” Namjoon narrates. “My parents, Taehyung, and our neighbor all took turns staying with her because she’s so stubborn, you know? Wouldn’t tell you if something’s wrong.”

Jungkook knows that all too well, that you really are like that.

“Knowing that, though, my parents had her checked every week. That’s how they determined fetal distress,” Namjoon slows down, tone more somber now. “It was early detection so they were able to perform a c-section right away.”

Jungkook turns to him, fear and worry etched on the younger man’s face. “She… she had surgery?”

“Yeah. It was pretty tough and Jungwon had to be monitored for any disabilities or delays. But yeah, he managed, she managed,” Namjoon recounts. The events are so far away but it’s like the worry and the relief still feel so real.

“The kid’s strong, Jungkook. He has a soft and sweet soul like you but he's definitely a fighter like his mother. Perfect mix, if I should say so myself,” the older man smiles, trying to turn the conversation to a lighter one.

He means it though, how Jungwon personifies the best parts of you and Jungkook.

“But they were okay after?”

“Somewhat. She was required to rest for several weeks so those two bonded like crazy,” Namjoon giggles. “Good thing that Jungwon was a quiet one, barely cried, didn’t give ___ too much of a hard time. It just… took time away from her earning, you know? So once she was capable, she took this job at a marketing firm that was way too hectic but paid well and it just… It was hard.”

“How hard?”

“Hard. Jungkook, she was a single parent. A stubborn and proud one at that. Worked over 12 hours a day, took online jobs during the weekend, took Jungwon to daycare everyday, taught him to do everything, made sure he got to play and all…” Namjoon narrates.

“It’s why my mom visited her every month for those first 2 years, why Ara and I would babysit often, why Taehyung set up a place for Jungwon at his apartment on days when ___ had an event until early morning. She only ever asked help if it was about Jungwon, never if it was about her,” Namjoon sighs, recalling how painful it had been for him as your brother to watch you do it all, never taking a break, never asking for help.

“Stubborn and proud, like you said,” Jungkook states.

“Yeah and well, she made a choice, Jungkook. She made a choice to leave you, to have this child on her own, and she made sure to give him everything while being the best parent she could be, taking on both roles for him and she never complained, not once. She just kept going, you know? Never made Jungwon feel any less or that he was a mistake or that he wasn’t loved enough. She made a decision and she stood by it. I’ll always admire her for that,” Namjoon states, holding his own emotions back.

Jungkook lets this all sink in, suddenly wishing that he was there for you, that you didn’t have to go through all that by yourself, that even with friends and family, he’s hoping you didn’t feel so alone.

He knows how you are, knows you’ll exhaust yourself before you even ask for help. That’s how he knew you truly loved him, when you would tell him you’re tired, or that you need help, whether it was something as simple as fixing your broken light bulb or using his charms to get the administration office to agree on this event proposal you had. Being open to him let him know you trusted him. Until you didn’t.

You never minded asking him, and Jungkook knows that if he’d been around, you wouldn’t have minded him helping you, making it easier for you. And it crushes him that he’d wanted to be everything you needed him to be for you and for your child but you didn’t even give him a chance.

He lets out a deep breath, the anger slowly dissipating and being replaced with longing, with a kind of sadness that he now doesn’t know how to deal with.

Namjoon picks up on this and pats him on the shoulder. “Look, I know that you’re still upset and you have the right to be. Just don’t be blinded by that. You’re home. You have a son that I’m sure you want to get to know. Four years is a lot but it’s also just 4 years. Don’t waste any more time that was already taken away from you.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says softly, knowing that it’s still going to take a lot of getting used to.

“So, what do you wanna do now?”

“Maybe meet up with her? I mean, I was yelling at her the last time we saw each other and I just want to ask to see our son.”

“Of course, Kook. I’m sure she’d want that, too.”

You’re sitting on one of the benches at the park the next day, watching Jungwon play with Namjoon and his wife, Ara, from afar. Even from here, you can make out the doe eyes of your son and his smile that reaches his eyes.

He likes the cold, just like you, and he’s been running about with his toy airplane and submarine, which he almost threw in the fountain. You’re smiling fondly, thinking of how the universe had been kind enough to bless you with the sweetest little angel that it could create.

You feel a figure settle next you, not too far away. Namjoon had told you late last night that Jungkook wanted to meet you, perhaps to ask for a workable schedule to spend time with Jungwon.

“Hey,” he says. You shiver, and you know it’s not because of the weather.

“I never got to tell you but I’m so, so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, turning to him, your eyes taking in the sight of him properly for the first time. “There’s so much I need to apologize for and I know it’s gonna take a long time for you to forgive me.”

You’re unable to rein in your feelings again, but after that first conversation with him and then the one you had with Jimin yesterday, you can’t help the guilt that you’ve been trying to temper bubble to the surface - for hurting him, for not trusting him, for not giving him a choice.

“There’s no point dwelling on what happened. It’s done. I’m here. I have time. And I’d like to spend it with Jungwon as much as possible,” he responds.

He doesn’t look at you; he just keeps his eyes out on the little boy still running about. His little boy, his son. And he can’t wait to finally hold him, get to know him, fall in love with him.

“Of course, but we need to take it slow. He’s a shy kid and it’ll take a while. Let’s follow his pace, okay?”

“Sure. We can grab lunch on Saturday, then?”

You can’t help the hope that bubbles in your chest. “That sounds good, Jungkook.”

Series Masterlist || Previous || Next

- Taglist: @fluffyjoons @jwlmnbt @koremis @mrcleanheichou @kooafraid @purplepommy @btstannies @jeonwiixard @songshin @joondala @hobiade @di0rgguk @fan-atic-blog–c @yn-the-reader @spicybangtanwings @njkbangtan @jeoncookie-bts @miniaturecloud @revehosh @preciouschimine @sherlynxx @dimreads @mwitsmejk @craftymoonchaos @queenmasterxx @ungodlyjoon @kookiesbaby02 @yiyi4657 @crewzie-chan @wearenot7withu @evafrechette @gamerkooks @iwanttohitmyself @sugaslittlekookies @kmadelin @mal99 @daobofs @petuliii @purplepebbles @she-is-dreaming @jungkooksseuphoria @seventeenis-thedream @namucries

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

2K notes · View notes

peachyysugaa · 3 years

Text

scream

― youtuber!park sunghoon x streamer!gn!reader

it's hard to stream horror video games when your neighbor is always filming dangerous mukbangs and screaming.

genre: e2l, neighbors au, angst to fluff, humor

wc: 3.2k

warnings: horror game mentions, cw food and mentions of cooking live things (inspired by this youtuber), sunghoon's a jerk at first :<, one mention of underage drinking (don't follow mc's example pls fisnfkskf), a few swear words

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the last upload! feel free to read on its own! ♞──────────────────────────♞

"AAAGH!" and there it is. your brows furrow upon hearing your neighbor's cry. does he not understand how thin these walls are?! there's a reason only college students stay here! grimacing, you ignore it and move your mouse to look around the dark house.

"oh shoot, i wonder if he's behind me?" you say to your audience while watching your viewers fill the chat with your custom subscriber emojis. "i'm going to do it, everyone, just―"

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHYYY?!"

more like why couldn't you be quiet?! you close your eyes in frustration but attempt to keep a straight face for the people watching you. "sorry if you heard that, i guess someone's having a bad day?" you chuckle nervously as you turn around in the video game to see a black slender figure. "oh! whoa, okay, i'm just going to run over here."

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

as if on cue, another scream is heard from the other side of the wall. "EEE! oh my god, i'm going to do it, i'm going to do it!"

what on earth was this kid doing that he was screaming every weekend? you didn't even scream that much, and you played horror games for a living! your stomach growls as you're thinking this and as a living human being, you listen to it and get up to make ramyeon. however, even as you're making your dinner and even as you're trying to enjoy it with some show playing on the tv, of course, you have to be subjected to your neighbor's loud yells. once you're finished, you notice how oddly quiet it is and decide to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind.

marching over with your keys in hand, you knock aggressively on apartment no. 505 until it opens. behind the door is a tall male with a face so well-proportioned you're thinking it's possible that some being above sculpted it themselves. his nose is accented with one mole on the side of his nose bridge and another a few centimeters under the opposite eye. "can i help you?" his rich voice asks with a slight sting to it.

you snap yourself out of it by blinking, incredulous that you almost forgot your mission just because he has a handsome face. "yea, you can help me by being quieter," you boldly state with your arms crossed in front of your chest. "you realize you're not the only one living in this complex, right? the walls are so thin, i can hear you screaming every time."

the male raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs to the side as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "can you just deal with it? some of us have to make a living."

"news flash, dude, that's all of us! the only people who would be willing to live in this place are college students! listen, i stream horror games for my work, and i don't even scream as loud as you," you retort and point your index finger from you to him. "so i think you should learn how to keep your volume down."

"and why haven't i heard these complaints from anyone else?" he tries to debate back.

"maybe because they're just quietly tolerating you. as for me, i can't anymore, so take this as your first warning, room 505." you turn around quickly with a huff and speed to your apartment next door.

as you're above to close the door, you hear him shout back at you. "my name's park sunghoon, room 506. remember it, because i'm going to make your life a living hell."

"l/n y/n, park sunghoon. we'll see about that." with that, you both simultaneously shut your doors with a slam that causes the walls to shudder a bit.

oh, he kept his promise alright. from stare-downs in the hallway, to bringing weird live animals in the elevator at the same time you're in there, to snarky remarks at the entrance that almost always lead to fights, park sunghoon has definitely made your life hell. to make matters worse, his screaming got even louder. you're sure that's a violation of some rule, right? wrong, the management for the building doesn't care all too much, as long as he's not doing anything illegal and nobody else has complained. you get what you paid for is the right saying here.

you were not having it. as a streamer and college student, weekends are your days with the freest time, and he took that from you. you found out that he was not just a college student but a youtuber, one that filmed dangerous mukbangs with live animals that he would then cook and eat, and because of that, he had also chosen to film on weekends. that was exactly why you had always encountered his screaming on days you were streaming, and now, tired of how petty he was, you decided to just cram your weekdays with school and streaming.

at first, it was fine, but as your days became packed with more studying on the weekends at the library to avoid sunghoon, you grew tired: tired of the crammed weekdays and for god's sake, tired of living your life running away. taking out a bottle of peach soju that your upperclassman dancer friend had snuck for you, you pop it open and make your way to the balcony that you barely used.

as you take a swig of the alcoholic beverage, you prop yourself onto the railing and gaze at the buildings before you, their lights blinding you from the stars of the night sky. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your low energy state, but something compels you to scream. "i'm so tired!!" you yell out to the skyline. letting out a sigh, you plop down into the spare plastic chair and go for another drink.

"drinking your worries away? that's not going to solve anything," a male voice speaks up. your eyes catch sight of sunghoon, who has slid open his own balcony door. he's dressed in a casual beige hoodie and sweats as if he had spent the day just relaxing.

"as if you care," you mumble with your lips pressed against the green glass. "you're literally at the root of all my problems."

he scoffs at your statement. "this again? look, i'm getting tired of you placing all this blame on me when i'm—"

"are you so sure about that?" you calmly and sternly interrupt. the alcohol really has unlocked your usually inhibited thoughts. "why did i move my streaming days onto the weekdays when i normally spend them studying? because your screaming on the weekends always got picked up by my mic. why do i get 4 hours of sleep every day and study all night at the library on weekends?" it's like when sunghoon had taken a stick to prod at you, the floodgates burst open. you weren't stopping until you gave him a piece of your mind. "because i have to cram my streaming schedule and studying schedule to accommodate to your filming one. maybe i am blaming you, but i've tried my best to do my job all while studying and having to deal with an asshole like yourself who's so inconsiderate that he can't even do one thing for his neighbor who's practically dying to adjust their lifestyle because of someone else's."

your neighbor goes silent after that, choosing to just sigh and go back inside his apartment. you relish in the silence that comes after he shuts the door and down the rest of your bottle before heading back inside yourself. strangely after that incident, you heard less and less of sunghoon on the weekend and thus were able to return to your normal schedule. even while passing by him, he kept his mouth shut and would just nod a cordial hello. you guess what you said that night really got through to him.

and he proves that because after about three weekends, you hear a knock on your door. upon opening it, you're surprised to see sunghoon behind it, his hands behind his back as he shifts side to side. "oh, hello sunghoon," you greet him awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey y/n," he returns. the youtuber stops fidgeting for a moment and bows after gathering up some courage. "listen, i just want to say i'm sorry." he looks up at your face, searching for some sign of hatred and he thankfully finds none, so he continues. "i didn't realize how much of an asshole i was until you said that. i was just thinking about myself and not about you or anybody else. i hope i was able to prove it to you these past three weeks, and i promise i won't go back to my old habits."

your silence is not so reassuring, so sunghoon nervously lifts his head to peek at your face to find an astonished expression. you stammer a little bit and hold the doorframe to keep yourself in place. "u-uh... gosh, i don't know what to say, sunghoon," you stutter. then, you notice another neighbor exiting the elevator, looking at the two of you strangely since sunghoon is still lowering his head. "oh! you can stand up straight now! please."

he does as you say, smiling sheepishly, and you notice how much better he looks smiling than the usual smirks he had sent you before. "apology accepted, sunghoon."

"r-really?"

you nod. "i mean, you really have proven yourself lately, so i don't see why i shouldn't."

"great!" his smile grows wider, making you blush and look anywhere but his face. "then i have a surprise for you to start over." you shoot him a confused look that he disregards out of boyish excitement. "close up, come over to my place for a few."

"o-okay, give me a moment, i'll be right over," you say as he rushes back to his apartment. you hurriedly grab your keys and look in the mirror next to your door to smooth out your hair before you're scolding yourself for caring about looks when he literally just saw you. closing the door, you lock up, head over to room 505, and knock.

"it's open," his voice calls from inside, and with that, you push the door open to find the living space of your own apartment, except totally flipped. to your left is a small living room, complete with a two-seater couch, a tv stand, and a tv. whereas to your right, there was a dining room fit for two, the kitchen right behind it before a hallway leads to the single bedroom and bathroom. you're too busy taking in this opposite room that you don't notice the fish tank on the round table full of live fish. "come over here," he says with an enthusiastic grin.

"yah, park sunghoon. what in the world is this?" you say flabbergasted.

"i'm showing you what i do for a living and cooking you a fresh meal," is all he has to say as you grimace and reluctantly move towards him. "this is my second time cooking it, so it should go a lot better."

"and what exactly is... it?"

"mudfish, way less than what i usually have for mukbangs though." you know, you had completely forgotten what the guy did on youtube since his handsome face distracted you for a handful of moments, but now reality had set in for you: he was going to do this live in front of you.

if you're uncomfortable with cooking live fresh food, please skip to the next italicized line!

"i swear to god, park sunghoon, if you do anything stupid, consider this restart invalid. you'll be hearing from my lawyer," you unsuccessfully warn him as you watch him put on some gloves and grab a cup of salt.

"relax, you're with me. i'm practically a pro," he tries reassuring you, but then he sprinkles the salt inside the tank. the fish start splashing around violently, causing you to let out a small yelp as some splashes of water get on you. "yaaah, this is way better than last time!"

"is this what you do every weekend?!" you shout at a low volume and cover your eyes with your hands.

"you can look now, it's fine," sunghoon says, pointing at the fish. you peek through the gaps between your fingers to see that the fish have stopped moving. sunghoon smirks as you take your hands away from your face. "see? i'm a pro."

coating and deep frying starts here!

he starts to coat them one by one in egg and flour and lays them down on a baking pan lined with paper. you watch as he handles each one delicately with concentration. "do you want me to start the oil?" you offer.

"oh! that would be great, thanks! the wok is already on the stove, just turn it on," he explains. you find the wok exactly where he had told you and turn on the gas stove accordingly, as if you've been here hundreds of times before, but in reality, you just have the same appliances. by the time the oil has been heated to the right temperature, sunghoon has already finished coating the fish. the two of you work together to place each one in the oil, listening to them sizzle and pop.

"we make a good team," sunghoon comments once every fish has started frying. you take care of the tongs and move them around when appropriate. "you should come by and guest star in one of my videos."

"if it's anything like today's, no thank you," you politely reject.

"what if... i invite you to eat after i cook?" he shoots his shot again. rolling your eyes playfully, you see that the fish are all thoroughly fried and turn off the fire. with his own tongs, sunghoon puts the fish on the plate as you go off to prepare two bowls of rice. the small dining room table gets cleaned up, so the two of you can start your meal. "okay, your answer?"

"depends on how good this mudfish is," you reply, holding up a fried fish with your chopsticks. he follows suit, and you two cheer your meals together.

"i'll eat well," the both of you say in harmony. finally, you take a bite of the crispy fish and hum in satisfaction, your eyes widening.

"mm! it's really good!" you compliment as he takes joy in your pleased expression.

"i'll take that as a yes to my question then?"

"hoon, i'll come over whenever you want me to," you exaggerate.

"deal," he accepts quickly so that you can't take it back. and that's how your first meal went with park sunghoon. soon enough, one meal turned into two, to five, to ten, until you're basically spending a lot of time with the youtuber. pretty much every weekend, you and sunghoon set it up so that you would cook and eat together in the afternoon so that you would have the rest of the evening to stream.

at some point, you find out that his major is biology, which is similar to your own in biochemistry, so your time with sunghoon extends to studying together and eventually gaming. one of you is always at the other's place and vice versa like you couldn't be without each other for a single moment.

you're eating takoyaki with said boy in your apartment this time, staring at his well-proportioned facial features as you chew slowly and think. he catches your unwavering gaze and chuckles. "is there something on my face, y/n?"

"i'm just thinking," you vaguely reply.

"about the thing on my face?" you shake your head at this. "then what is it? i know i'm really handsome and all, but you literally see me all the time."

"that's exactly my point!" you cry out as if you hit eureka, shocking him in the process. "we're together all the time. we were literally enemies at first, and now it's like we're dating! what is this, some kind of shitty fanfiction?" yes

"well, do you want us to date?" luckily, you had just swallowed the last bit of your takoyaki ball because that could've made you choke. instead, you suddenly start coughing, and he pushes your water towards you.

the coldness of the water does nothing to help your rising temperature as you take big gulps of it. "wh-what kind of question is that?" you ask, patting your mouth dry with a nearby tissue.

"a serious one," he answers nonchalantly. "because i like you." stream dreamcatcher BEcause

"huh? since when?" you're practically in disbelief. no way sunghoon liked you back. you had just discovered your own feelings not too long ago when you had tucked him in after an intense study session and he whispered your name. ever since then, you got butterflies in your stomach around him, and not because he made it a mukbang. (but you wouldn't put it past him?)

the male rubs the back of his neck. "it's been a while. i just know that i like you."

"st-stop saying that!" you wave your hands in front of your face frantically to hide the redness you know that has spread all over.

"oh? or what, room 506?" he gets up from his seat across from you to prop his elbows on the table, getting a closer look at your cute, embarrassed appearance as he rests his head on his hands. "make me," he prods some more.

reminiscent of the first time you cooked together, you peeked through your fingers to witness his adorable grin waiting for you. as if wanting you to seal the deal, he closes his eyes and smiles with just his lips. you shyly reach out to grab his cheeks, taking a moment to brush the fringe out of his eyes so you can adore the moles that dotted his face, and slowly bring your own lips towards his to press them together in a kiss.

it's short but sweet, and soon you're pulling away and finding your fingers more interesting. sunghoon's eyes flutter open and fondly gazed at you. "be mine?" he speaks up.

"if you stop making my heart scream, then yeah," you mumble, stealing a glance at his smug smile. he laughs, stands up, and walks over to your side of the table. turning your chair around as if you weighed nothing, he places his hands on the table behind you, engaging you in between his long limbs.

"sweetheart, that's the whole point," he says, leaning down to chase your lips and kiss you until your heart can't take it anymore. you're both screaming on the inside as your hearts keep pounding in your chests, but at least this time it's from your pure feelings towards each other.

a/n: omg this is the last of captured on camera EEE thank you all so so much for being here with me on this journey of my first one-shot series <3 this really shows my growth as a writer, and i'm so glad i could share it with y'all! i hope you all look forward to my next one-shot series~

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki @fiantomartell

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fanfiction #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst

339 notes · View notes

kenmei · 3 years

Text

-ˏˋ NOBODY GETS ME (LIKE YOU)! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader (no pronouns) x miya atsumu

cw: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers!au, college!au, food mention, alcohol mention

synopsis: in which miya atsumu makes the biggest mistake of his life, and how he clumsily (but lovingly) glues everything back together

wc: 1700+

notes from mei!

me: i hate exes to lovers >:( exes are exes for a reason

also me: atsumu exes to lovers >:))))))))

miya atsumu is a star.

you always thought you were a star too. even if you didn’t shine as bright as him, he made you feel as though you had a place in the sky alongside him, forever. you wish you realized earlier that you, in fact, are not a star at all.

you’re nothing but a flower rooted in the dirt—beautiful and priceless in its own way nonetheless, but even then, flower and star were never made to be together.

as you stare at a polaroid of you and him, one you found while cleaning out your drawers, you laugh emptily at the memories those smiles of you and his once held; promises. a future.

honestly, you wonder how this came to be. just last week, you and him still had those smiles—having sleepovers that lasted the entire week and whispering confessions and promises of forever under thick duvets and blasted air conditioning, stealing each other’s warmth and looking forward to the morning routine you both built together.

you were both perfectly fine and so disgustingly in love, so you cry again for what feels like the hundredth time this week, drawing blanks when you try to figure out why he decided to end it all.

and again, for what also feels like the hundredth time this week, you tell yourself that what will be, will be.

because a star who gawks at a flower, unknowingly wanting to become something rooted in soil, will eventually fall from the sky and lose everything that makes it special.

and you couldn’t bear watching atsumu lose his love for volleyball.

he’s a coward.

almost a month passed since he broke up with you, but even ‘til now, he feels the repercussions as though he broke your heart yesterday.

there’s an ache in his chest whenever he lays in his cold bed, knowing that he can’t call you anymore, asking if you’d spend the night for the fifth time that week.

“we might as well live together at this point,” you say, grinning at him from the other side of the doorframe.

“been tryna tell ya that since last month, angel,” he replies, grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, hands wandering to your jaw as he brushes his lips against yours.

your arms circle around his middle, pulling yourself impossibly closer, “should i move in? or do ya wanna live in mine?”

he looks at you, stars in his eyes as he responds. “don’t care. as long as i’m waking up to ya for the rest of my life.”

miya atsumu feels like the biggest fool history’s ever seen.

he’s reckless with a selfish streak, hurting you all because he thought (in the spur of the moment) that he could be everything and more without you by his side because “lovers are only accessories”

but as his coach benches him for the third practice game, he realizes he can never be anything without you—his backbone, his pride, soulmate and everything else that made atsumu, atsumu.

you’ve become a part of him that he desperately needs, and atsumu truly hopes that he’s still the same for you.

“do you,” you pull up your mask, eyes darting around nervously, “do you need something? i gave everything of yours back already.”

atsumu stands between you and your apartment door. “i was hopin’ we could... we could talk.”

“maybe next time.” you decline, frowning under your mask. “i have an eight-hour shift i need to get ready for.”

“then let me in.” he says, “ya can make yer meal and we can talk. when ya finish, i’ll leave. swear ta ya.”

it’s weird seeing him so serious and desperate. you eye him suspiciously.

of course when you’re finally coming to terms with everything, he conveniently comes back to ruin your life and you bet it’s because he’s trying to fix his.

“i don’t want you in my kitchen.”

“then i can stand in yer livin’ room.”

“atsumu, i don’t want you in my house.”

you’re being mean and inconsiderate, you think. but doesn’t he deserve it after everything he’s put you through?

he visibly sinks, eyes drooping and lip jutting into a small pout. you sigh, taking the first step past him and his hand immediately reaches for yours. you recoil, ignoring him as you jiggle your key into the slot, fumbling with the doorknob.

“please?” he asks once more.

“atsumu,” you sigh, opening your door. “what are you trying to do?”

he gapes, pink rushing to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “i just—i just really wanted to talk with ya.”

and you sigh, eyes finally softening in the way he remembers and you nudge your door open for you and him.

(you were always bad at saying “no” to him—he would always say his charms were too irresistible to decline and you, in turn, would roll your eyes playfully and tell him he acted like an irritating child whenever you said no).

his eyes light up, and you sigh quietly once again, a miniscule of a smile creeping its way to your lips.

standing in your living room, atsumu watches as you move around your kitchen, grabbing a small pot and filling it up with water.

“ramen?” he asks, nervous, but the grin of a boy in love doesn’t escape his lips.

“old habits die hard.” you mutter sarcastically, grabbing two packets from the cupboard. “do you want water?”

“do ya have soju?”

he thinks he’ll have an easier time with some liquid courage in his bloodstream.

“not for you.”

he sinks.

and while the water is boiling, you both stand in silence. your back faces him and suddenly atsumu doesn’t feel 6′2 anymore. he feels significantly smaller in your presence, in the tense atmosphere he didn’t mean to create.

“if you’re just going to stare at me, then leave.” you say, pouring in the block of noodles.

he notes that your place is clean, your appearance is neat and your mental state surely isn’t fraying by the ends like his. is this what moving on looks like? he ponders, a dull feeling in his chest as he realizes you’re moving too quickly from his grasp.

“can we—can i try again?” he blurts out, unsure and nervous, but willing to have his heart crushed up even more, if it meant he could make up for all his mistakes. “i can’t do this without ya, y/n. ‘m serious.”

“you can,” you say, “you’ve basically been doing it all without me for the past three months—way before we broke up. i was just, a charm that you could brag about. you accomplished everything you wanted yourself, atsumu. don’t sell yourself short.”

he knows you’ll never forget his words. he hates that, because those words were a big fat lie he spat just to hurt you. but he hates it more how you speak like you were nothing to him, when you’re the biggest reason he keeps going and going. he wants to get you a house, a pet or two maybe, an actual little trinket that sits pretty on your ring finger, give you a life that you’ll never regret and more.

“it’s different, y’know..” he mumbles, “‘m better f’ya now. ‘samu gave me a beating, but i already realized it before he did it.”

“not for me, atsumu.” you say, calm and it pisses him off. “your next. you’re better now for your next.”

and at that, he explodes. “i don’t want a next, y/n! i want ya! yer all i ever wanted! since high school, when ya let me use yer pens and pencils cuz i forgot mine on the first day!”

“and all i wanted was for us to last.” you reply, turning off the stove and placing the lid on the pot, figuring now isn’t the time to be straining noodles. “and going to school with only a bento and a hundred yen in your book bag is something you’ll never live down.”

you meet his eyes, a gentle smile on your lips that tells him you’ve already accepted that you have to move on without him. “we broke up for a reason, atsumu, you know that.”

his hands ball into fists, “i was that reason! i know that now! so please, y/n, i’ll do anythin’, just let me make it up to ya.”

you know the breakup wasn’t your fault, but it still hurt to see him blaming himself, pain reflecting in the colours of his eyes.

you feel dumb for tears sudden;y gathering in your eyes at his desperation. you’ve done enough crying for the entire year, but your heart still hurts when you look at him and that softness for him you’ve always had never left, it tugs at your heart, pleading for you to at least give him one chance.

truth is, you wanted to cry the second you saw him at your doorstep, hands in his pockets and an anxious look clouding his features. you never wanted to accept moving on without him, but you just wanted to prove that if he can do it on his own, so can you.

(but you realized early on that everything is better when you’re with him).

“you hurt me, y’know.” you say, tears getting caught on your lashes. “callin’ me an accessory and whatnot.”

“‘s not true. never was.” he cries a little bit, too, making his way around the dinner table to stand in front of you.

his heart breaks and mends back together all at once, at the sight of you lowering your head and inching a little bit closer. his arms pull you in and his large hands, soft and apologetic, run up and down soothingly as you cry into him.

“thank you.”

and he doesn’t kiss you—no, not yet. he makes a blueprint in his head of how he wants your second-first-kiss to go. one chance is all he has left.

and that’s all he’ll need.

because miya atsumu was no longer a star when he met you. he fell faster than anyone ever anticipated and lost his place in the skies; a tiny school crush engulfing him in flames and hauling him straight to you.

he’s in love. in way too deep.

but because it’s you, he couldn’t care less. you make him feel special in ways nothing else can. he’d burn bits of him and tear through everything in his path again and again, as long as it meant he’d end up alongside you, where he’s meant to be, with the flower that understood him more than any star could ever hope to.

xtra notes from mei!

idk why i did stupid star and flower imagery i made everything harder for myself this is #embarrassing

1K notes · View notes

hollandsmushroom · 3 years

Text

That Was Hot

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

AU: Frat!Tom

Word Count: 2,356

A/N: Um, this is pure filth and it came to me when I watched How To Get Away With Murder and Asher said that was hot like i want you to sit on my face hot and I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Warnings: Drinking, Drunkenness, unwanted Sexual advances, jealousy, face sitting, oral(fem receiving), cum eating, cum play, dry humping, frat boys.

You weren’t drunk, tipsy? Sure, but drunk? No. Your words were clear as ever but your aim was a little wonky as you stood across the table from the two frat boys who you recognized but did not know the name of. You saw your boyfriend walking up to you, always loving to watch you do literally anything and destroying his frat bros at beer pong was one of his favorite things. The boys you were up against were blatantly waisted, their aim probably already off with how much alcohol was coursing through their veins, you were confident that you were gonna win.

“We so got this” One boy slurred to the other, putting a hand up for a high five, receiving nothing but a brush of pinkys as his teammate almost entirely missed his hand.

A smile grew on your lips as you watched the interaction, and untamed laughter passing your friends lips causing you to follow suit, hunching over as laughter gripped your sides, it was a drunk laugh, messy and uninhibited. Tom’s eyes were trained on you as he watched you fall apart, he knew your reaction was overstated but he didn’t care, he just loved seeing you happy.

“What's so funny?” one of the boys inquired incredulously, his words prompting you to eye your friend again, still biting back laughter at the boy's childish response and lack of self awareness. You both knew how this was gonna go, both confident in your ability to win, so why not have some fun while you're at it.

“Just you guys thinking you’re gonna win” you taunted, only riling the rowdy frat boys up even more. You held the ping pong ball, flicking your fingers, tossing the feather light ball up and catching it without even looking, it was your silent tease, a taunt of challenged masculinity. One of the boys leaned forward, placing his stubby nailed hand on the beat up ping pong table, which at this point seemed to be held up together with duct tape and the spite of broke college students. There was a snarl wound tight on his lips.

“If you’re so sure that you’re gonna win, why don't you back up your words then,” his voice was angry, and in your periphery your could see Tom about to come over and tell the guy off for talking to you like that but with a quick glance you told him that you got it, and he respected your wishes, maintaining his stance but a little more defensive now. “If I win, then fine, you beat us, but if we win, you have to do something that you really don’t want to do” You almost cackled, his inebriation limiting his ability to even come up with something to torment you with.

“Kissing you it is then” you spoke, your voice a sugar coated venom. You tried to hold your persona but you knew that you had bothered Tom, his body tensing even more than it had after the boys taunts. You felt his hardened gaze training on you, his face twisted into the visual representation of and angry “What the fuck?” not thrilled with even the slightest possibility of your lips on someone else's. But you both knew that if you did lose the fame, a fist would sooner come in contact with that face than your lips on his. You knew that even though his eyes conveyed anger there was part of him that was proud, a small smirk tugging on his lips, appreciating the witty remark that belittled his frat brother. You turned all the way to him, giving him a warm smile, bringing your hand to your lips, placing a kiss on your palm before pursing your lips and blowing it Tom’s way, winking as his anger melted entirely and a soft smile replaced the smirk. Turning back to the boy you spoke up again, ignoring the angered look on the boy opposite yous face “I’ll play better if I am playing not to kiss you, let's get this over with” acting like you were exhausted by the notion of actually playing the game, you weren’t, in fact you were excited, thrilled by the idea of of crushing these boys machismo.

You tossed the ball, watching as it floated through the air, barely denser than the atmosphere that surrounded it. The tension evaporated as you sank the first shot, a groan sounding from the boys mouths as you and your friend cheered. One of your opponents took the ball out of the cup, drinking down the tepid beer before setting up his shot. He over shot any of the cups by at least a foot, you caught it easily, placing it in your friend's hand so she could make her shot, and she did, easily landing it in the cup and leading the other boy to have to drink as well. The game continued this way, you and your friend absolutely obliterating the two boys.

You held your breath as you took the final shot, knowing that you would still have opportunities to try again but you really just wanted to get it over with so you could return to Tom’s arms. The shot sinking into the cup, an excited shout leaving your lips as you jump up and down, high fiving your friend. Tom smiled as he saw your true joy, thrilled that the simplest possibility of you kissing someone else was no longer on the table, the only thing left being most of the cups of beer on your side of the table.

“Hey” the frat boy that you would have kissed if you lost spoke up, quickly moving to your side of the table and standing all too close. His breath was hot and sticky, heavy with the alcohol that was tainting every pore in his body. He reached out moving to touch your face but you stepped back. “I know we lost but I still want that kiss” he was pressing you up against the table.

“Um, no thank you, that was the punishment” you spoke fiercely, trying to hide the fear that was growing in your chest. The boy went to open his mouth again but was cut off as a hand was placed on his chest, pushing him away from you.

“Back off mate, leave with whatever fucking dignity you got left, and don’t you fucking dare try to touch my girl again, we clear?” Tom's voice was harsh, every word he spoke he pushed the boy farther and farther away from you, poking him in the chest with his final words to emphasize the point.

“Um, yeah, yeah we clear” the boy exclaimed, tense under Tom’s piercing gaze.

“Good, now fuck off” Tom growled, stepping back to let the boy scuttle off to where ever the fuck, you didn’t care and Tom only hoped that it was far away. Turning back to you, Tom cupped your cheek with his hand, letting you nuzzle into his palm. "Fucking cunt" he muttered under his breath.

“You okay, baby?” his voice was much softer than it had been when he spoke to the frat boy, it made you feel cherished.

“Yeah, baby, I am okay” you hummed “I just kicked ass at beer pong, I’m feeling pretty good” he leaned in, kissing your nose softly.

“You did so good baby, it was hot watching you beat them, like I want you to sit on my face hot” his words were heavy, laden with libido and the promise of a good time. Your eyes widened at his brashness, sending a jolt straight to your core, a rushed nod seizing your neck, prompting him to grab your hand, guiding you through the muddle of people, up to his room, passing couples with tongue in each other's throats, messes of red solo cups and lust. The final flight of stairs was short, not intended for the attic to be a room, but here you were, your hand wound with Tom’s as you stood in the A slanted den.

There was a pull on your hand, dragging you down onto the large mattress, the wooden frame creaking at the sudden weight of two tangled bodies on it. You landed on top of him, the soft unkempt blankets shifting beneath your knees as Tom’s hands gripped your ass, pulling you as close to him as possible, your clothed core dragging across his covered cock.

“Tommy” you moaned into his mouth, his hands on your ass continuing to rock your hips against his, the friction not something you knew you needed. Right as you thought things were getting to it Tom pushed you back, a confused look cementing on your face as you watched him.

“Take your trousers and pants off, Love, was serious about wanting you on my face” he smirked at your lust stricken features, immediately removing your bottoms leaving you bare, the dim light from Toms’s bedside lamp catching on the slickness between your thighs, glistening and making Tom’s mouth water. “C’mere” he elbowed himself up, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you back onto him, this time your core ending hovering above his eager tongue.

“Tom, I need you” you whimpered, feeling his breath on your heat. He didn��t dignify you with a response, simply shoving his face between your folds, lips wrapping around your clit eliciting a moan from you. You found yourself beginning to grind against his mouth, feeling his cheeks move against your thighs, presumably into a smirk

His hands wound around your waist, pulling you down on top of him, the added pressure of his hold pressing you farther onto his tongue, his nose nudging your clit as he lapped at your core, drinking you up like he hadn’t had a drink in years. His teeth grazed your folds, a shiver running up your spine, grinding farther down onto his face, fingers wound around his curls, tugging at it from the roots, a moan escaping his lips and vibrating through your core. He ground helplessly into the heated air, his hard cock begging for friction, the tip poking out of his waistband, leaking precum onto his lower stomach. He needed something.

Tom twisted his hips, holding you tight against his face, he flipped you over, your back landing flat against the worn sheets, your head delving into the pillows. Tom now laid on his stomach, immediately grinding his hips against the bed, giving his dick the friction it had been yearning for, wanting to feel any kind of touch, desperate for release. His hip bones became exposed as the gyration of his hips pulled his jeans down a little more, exposing his shaft further. The harshness of the fabric against his contrasting to what he normally felt, it was nothing like the velvety muscled lined walls of your tight cunt, not comparing to the tight grip of your hand, and subpar compared to your mouth, but then again, everything that wasn’t you was a downgrade in his mind.

“Fuck” he moaned into your heat, pressing his cock farther into the mattress, knowing that the feeling was building up more rapidly than he would like to admit. He knew he shouldn't. He knew that it would push him over the edge to look up at you but he couldn’t resist. His mouth not leaving your pussy he dragged his eyes up your body, toffee colored eyes widening as they fell upon your face twisted in pleasure, your hands gripping at your breasts and pinching your nipples. It broke something animalistic in him, bringing a hand from your ass and smacking yours away, aggressively groping the soft mounds of flesh and pinching your nipples.

“Tommy, I’m go-gonna cum” you cried, your back arching helplessly off the bed, your thighs clamping shut around Tom’s heads, only resulting disappointment was that he couldn’t fully hear your moans, but he say your face as you fell apart under his tongue and it sent him with you. He moaned loudly into you, cock twitching against his shorts as he came onto his stomach and the bedsheets.

Once you had both ridden out your highs he pulled away, looking up at you eagerly, meeting your gaze, your eyes carrying a similar longing to the one that was in his.

“Fuck Tommy, you felt so good,” you panted, your praising words causing a smile to take his thin lips. “I want you in me Tommy” your voice sultry, having maintained more of your breath.

“I want that too love but I um,” he scratched the back of his neck, tearing his gaze from yours and down to his cum smeared abdomen.

“Oh, I see, you got off on eating me out, didn’t ya baby boy” you teased, grinning at your bashful boyfriend, pride awakening in your chest that you had caused him to cum without even touching his cock. You were amused with the embarrassment in his red cheeks.

“Uh, yeah, I’m really sorry, love”

“Hmm, that's okay I guess, I’ll just have a different kind of treat” you shrugged, knowing what you were about to do would have the repercussions you so desired, it would leave you full in more ways than one, cum dripping down your legs as you slept, you knew what you were doing.

Your fingers dance on his flushed skin, gathering his cum on you fingers and bringing them to your lips, sticking out your tongue like he had done earlier, smearing it across your taste buds before leaning into his face, licking at that slickness that was dripping down his chin, the combined taste of your cums in your mouth making you hum. You licked over his lips, giving him a bit of a taste of the treat that resided between your lips before closing them, swallowing the rest. He licked his lips eagerly, eyes rolling back as your spunks mixed together, feeling the blood already starting to rush south once again, his refractory period dramatically shortened by your actions.

“On second thought, I think I can go for some more” he growled.

@spydeysense

#tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x plus size reader #tom holland au #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #frat tom holland #frat!tom #frat boy tom holland #frat tom can end me #fratboy!tom #tom hollland

594 notes · View notes

saiqherrr · 3 years

Text

.pairing satoru gojo x fem!reader

.setting college au

.content warning smut, nsfw, angst???, degradation kink, overstimulation, slapping kink, unprotected sex, cumming inside, cheating

.synopsis you swear that you're different - that you can "change" satoru gojo.

.a/n this is unfinished but i wanted this out my drafts. i have had zero motivation to write lately. this also has not been proofread. bleh. enjoy

NOT TRUE. NOT TRUE. you rubbed your hand on the side of your neck, absentmindedly looking down at your notebook that was filled with poorly written scrabbles of notes, words you could just barely imbibe from today’s lecture. you masked your irritation while two girls shamelessly whispered gossip about your boyfriend. why should it bother you if you knew it wasn’t true? because you knew that a good portion of what they were blabbering about was true.

you weren’t necessarily a shy girl, you knew a lot of people on campus from high school. for the most part you were quiet and minded your business, however, that changed after you notoriously flashed your busty bosoms at a frat party while your system was buzzed with alcohol. that was the night satoru gojo took you home. it was by luck that you committed such a sinful act on a night where satoru really couldn’t be bothered with desperate girls flocking on him. on any other night, he’d meander around the party, letting girls approach him and kiss up to him. he’d pick a spunky, sober girl from the flock and take her up to a room that didn’t belong to them, and fuck her - just for him to forget her name the next morning.

this night was different. he had a long day and he was surprised he had the energy to come to the party in the first place. he felt embarrassed for you when you got up on that table, slurring your words and waving your shirt in the air before you unclasped your bra, the frat house erupting with screams, chants, yelling and shouting. he couldn’t bear to see you like that and it bothered him that he even cared. he had no particular reason to. but his body moved on it’s own when he walked over to that anything-but-sturdy table and grabbed you, ending the show that everyone was rooting for. he slung you over his shoulder, taking up your shirt and bra before he found the nearest bathroom.

he took you back to his own apartment he was renting nearby, letting you sleep on the couch with a small blanket that just barely covered your feet and one small throw pillow was placed underneath your head. he left a mop bucket by the couch, anticipating that you’d be facing a mean hangover the next morning. he was glad he trusted his gut with that one because after he woke up the next morning to use the bathroom, he could hear you gagging and then regurgitating everything you ingested the day before.

after he took care of you that day, you thanked him endlessly. you were eternally grateful that he took time out his day to even do such a generous thing. it was out of character for him to do something like that, too, but you didn’t know at the time.

you don’t know how you ended up where the two of you were now, but all you know is that you fully smitten by him during those first two weeks you guys had first met. the two of you went out on a couple of dates, spent the night at his place a couple of times and eventually...you guys were having sex. so much fucking sex. he whispered appraisal in your ear every time he got the chance to bury himself balls deep in your tight pussy. he was rough, yet his words came out as soft as ever to you, stirring up all kinds of mushy feelings and affection from him.

it only took one post on satoru’s instagram - that one picture of you in his apartment, smiling at yourself in the bathroom mirror as he stood behind you, kissing your cheek while he snapped the photo. it was posted in the early morning with the a simple, but meaningful caption: ain’t she special? one post confirmed something for, not only everyone else, but for you as well; he was in love with you.

it, of course, came as a shock to your peers on campus. satoru was infamous for being a player and a sex addict. even you, at one point, had make an ancient joke about how satoru couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. being held down by anyone wasn’t a common thing for him at all. the confirmation of your relationship with him only caused people to question if all of it was a facade.

you questioned it yourself sometimes. but then you’d oddly be ashamed in yourself for doing so. he told you he loved you out the blue, took you out for fancy dinners, wasn’t ashamed to mention you to his friends and almost annoyingly professed his love to you in public spaces and online. he loved you. you knew he loved you.

keeping his words in your mind was enough to protect your mind from getting hurt by reality. you were blind to the small love marks that weren’t given to him by you. you were deaf to the sound of satoru sweet-talking a girl on the phone, assuming you were asleep, when you were really wide-awake. you suddenly had anosmia whenever he’d come back to the apartment smelling like cheap perfume. you ignored it all subconsciously and it was starting to catch up to you.

you were clearly aware of satoru’s behavior before becoming official with him, but since he had treated you with so much tlc, you figured you would be the turning point in his life. you believed that he’d change now that he had such a smart, respectable, sexy, and compliant girl by his side. he didn’t need anyone else, right? wrong. you were not his turning point. you were simply another climax in his life, a feeling you gave him every time your pussy clamped down on his cock, except, he got to feel that from you more often than others. that’s how other people looked at it.

in two weeks it’d make a year since the two of you started dating. a full year of this? maybe he was in love in with you, but just because he was, it didn’t mean it got rid of his urges. so that’s why you were trying to ignore the chattering behind you right now. you know you couldn’t be mad. you knew satoru was a fucking sleeze.

“throw it back on me baby, you know i don’t like doing all the work.” satoru's vainglorious words sent blazes of warmth to run everywhere on your body. your hands held the sheets underneath you as you shook your body to and fro, shivering each time your skin connected with his. his throbbing cock kissed your cervix and massaged your pulsating walls. you were recovering from an orgasm that you had moments before, juice running down your legs, but satoru fucked you through, bringing you close to overstimulation.

you wanted to tell him it was too much, but he had your own, soaked panties in your mouth, causing you to be quite inaudible. so many reasons to be uncomfortable yet you adored and wanted the entire. the fully body mirror that was across from you reflected the pornographic scene and felt yourself getting aroused all over again from the sight. drool dribbled from your mouth, tears rolling down your cheeks, satoru’s strained face. it only motivated you to go faster, milking his cock with your cunt eagerly.

satoru reached beside him, getting his cell phone and lazily opened up the camera app. he happily recorded the way you ricocheted your full ass on him, holding it and smacking it multiple times. once he was happy with the footage he had, he threw it phone to the side and he reaches around and takes the lacy material from your mouth, causing you to hack uncontrollably and lick your dry lips. he proceeded to grab your hips, digging crescent shaped dents into your skin. he pulled you to him, fucking you like he had gone batshit crazy.

he had you blabbering nonsense now that your mouth wasn’t restrained, but he managed to hear you say “’s too much!” and you stammered while moaning his name.

“too fucking bad. hold out just a bit longer, you weak slut,” he growled. “fuck...” you were reaching your high again, legs shaking viciously before they gave out and you imploded on your stomach on the bed. it didn’t stop him from ramming into you over and over again. you were so compliant to him. the way he fucked you was intoxicating. he made you crave sex more than you ever did in your life. “cum again for me baby, i’ll come with you.”

with both of your eyes screwed shut, you clenched around his slobbered cock, stomach convulsing violently and came hard. you practically screamed his name like you had no fucking sense. it’s because you didn’t. your psyche had gone clear and your body was numb. you couldn’t even process that satoru had came as well, rubbing excess semen in between your ass cheeks, watching strings of your release and his own drip from your gaping hole. he turned you around so that you were on your back and brought his hand, slapping you hard against your cheek, bringing you back to your senses.

“don’t scream like that again. y’lost your fucking mind,” he threatens you in a low, aggressive tone before snickering. he grabbed your delicate bosoms tenderly, scouring your stiff, aching areolas. you gasped intensely while sweat moved down your face, eyes half-lidded. he sucked your nipples graciously, running wet circles around them with his tongue. his ivory locks of hair tickled your skin, you bring your hand to run your fingers through it. he brought his lips to the space in between your breasts, sucking feverishly on your soft flesh until he could see visible marks form, leaving his mark on you.

“did i...did i do good...?” you breathed out, closing your eyes.

you felt his warm lips leave your skin and he chuckled softly before kissing you tenderly. “yes, yes you did. you did so well.” he was proud of himself for taming you, making you so docile to him. you were strong-willed and independent outside of the bed so seeing you lie here so pathetic under his gaze, losing yourself because of his touch was a sight to see. he felt lucky to have you...

you were truly such a beautiful girl. as embarrassed as he was for you when he first saw you flashing to all those people at that frat party, he silently admitted to himself that you looked fucking hot. if you weren’t so drunk that night he probably would’ve fucked you. he got his wish...eventually.

if anyone ever asked satoru why he has stayed with you for so long, he wouldn't have the option to offer an unmistakable response. whenever he was asked, he gave them a straightforward, “i love her.” he couldn’t quite understand how or what you did, but you allure him in a way no other person can. you unknowingly had him wrapped around your finger. he didn’t mind being tied down by you. well, that’s because he wasn’t entirely “tied down.” it was no secret that he sneaked around with other girls on campus, but what other option did he have? he was an addict. he couldn’t go a fucking day without burying himself in someone’s cunt - or someone’s ass, or getting his dick sucked by some whore after class. he couldn’t fuck you everyday. he didn’t want to use you for that purpose. you surprisingly meant something to him. he hoped all the warm gestures he gave you was enough to prove he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

#gojo satoru #SatoruGojo #gojo smut #gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo simp #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic

209 notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

325 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Words Whispered in the Dark

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6250🙈

Summary: There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing those down, it applies twice as much.

Steve supports your writing – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you’re not sure you wanted to know.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, praise kink & body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones & implied age gap & professor-student dynamic & cumplay if you squint, language ---- (let me know if I missed any…why is the list so long wtf)

A/N: Can be read as a standalone. Part of the Attached ‘verse with professor!Steve.

A/N: For Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. Congratulations to the rightfully earned milestone ❤️ Thank you for hosting the challenge and kindly including even soft fics (even though I feel like my soft got lost in translation a bit).

Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” - bold in the text, pls don’t @ me for the way I used it.

Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.

You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But fuck, was it a close call.

Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.

Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and damn, did it feel good for both of you.

So technically, you knew there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually doing it, shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.

Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.

Oh no. Oh shit. This wasn’t happening--

Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, fuck. You were so fucking screwed.

“Oh---oh honey,” you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.

Steve was reading it. Steve was reading that thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking bad—he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly would.

Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.

“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,” you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.

Maybe you should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?

He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say hunger, enough to stir heat in your belly.

Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.

Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. Well. At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because�� that. That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.

Was it?

“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.

Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.

He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.

The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (his shirt) to drag you into his lap.

A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.

Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.

Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.

“Well, I did see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. Fuck. You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.

It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.

Now the idea of that actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.

It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.

“Wait, right now?” you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.

Fuck. Shit. Okay.

“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.

You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.

“Bed. Now.”

Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.

It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.

He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.

“What is it, babygirl?”

His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.

You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”

His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.

“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.

You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.

“Well, you won’t, not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.

Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.

“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, always, as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, I am,” he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.

Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.

Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and you were the one getting your hands on him. You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but Christ, it was his back that would be your downfall.

Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.

It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.

“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.

“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. “Babygirl…”

“Yeah?”

“You know what. Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.

“Or what?”

He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.

“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible ‘promise?’.

“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.

“I don’t follow--- oh,” escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“

You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your mutual pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts and the sheets at that.

“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, accidently brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”

“Babygirl,” he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.

“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, really nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“

“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you tell me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”

From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good lord, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.

“Uhm… Waterloo?”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. Of course he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.

You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.

“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.

Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.

“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”

“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”

“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.

“I think there’s something else that’s up--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.

His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.

“You changed.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.

“Fuck-“

“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.

Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.

You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.

“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.

Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…

Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.

You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.

As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that you were the one in control.

You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.

Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.

When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.

Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you loved his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.

The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.

Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.

Fuck couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.

“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”

Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.

“Shit, sweetheart-“

The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.

Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, finally rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.

Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.

“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.

“Christ- don’t stop--“

“Eloquent as always, Professor,” you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.

Christ was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock--- if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.

So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.

“For fuck’s --- how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.

You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.

“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”

“You little-“

His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.

Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.

A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck, yeah--- just like that…”

Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of more.

Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, so badly, but fuck the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.

Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply had to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.

So fucking pretty like this.

And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, willingly. The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.

Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.

Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally swallow, causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.

Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.

“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.

The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.

“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.

Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.

“Oh my god-“ you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.

He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.

You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.

Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck. Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly. You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.

You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.

For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.

Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.

Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, nearly giving him a view of what was under the fabric.

“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”

Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.

You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that unsexy was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.

He was wrong.

“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about your fingers, stretching me so good, about you fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.

“Babygirl—”

“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”

He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.

You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.

“Babygirl--- fuck me-- I’m gonna-“

You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.

Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.

You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.

He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.

Ah-oh, sounded in the back of your mind.

Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.

If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.

You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.

You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.

Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.

“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.

You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”

A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.

“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”

Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.

Fuck.

You were so busted.

Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.

Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?

Right. No.

Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.

Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.

Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.

“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.

“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.

You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.

“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry… Professor Rogers,” you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.

“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, guessing at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with you now. It’s only fair, no?”

Oh fuck, here it came.

For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.

It’s only fair, no? he had said.

It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.

Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.

Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so so good. It was never really a question.

“Y—yes, it is.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”

And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

No, you were absolutely not ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft yes. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like home. Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.

He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”

His words tickled the sensitive skin and shit, okay, your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really was going to wreck you.

Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, almost there.

“Please,” was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.

“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.

“Y- yes.”

“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.

Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.

And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.

Attached masterlist

S.R. masterlist

I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to.

But I hope you enjoyed anyway. I mean, if you made it to the end…

Thank you for reading :-*

Your Anika I’m-Not-a-Smut-Writer Ann

P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of the reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #professor steve rogers #LEMONS #mind the warnings #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america au #college au #modern au #wrong attachment au #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #attached #words whispered in the dark #anika ann

370 notes · View notes

noodlepai · 3 years

Text

(OKAY okay so I've come to provide more information on the AU, I'm still working on it a lot so things might change or be added but I got a basic idea of what things are like rn !!)

Info dump moment rn, also TW for slight trauma mentions/hints

• Sam had managed to save the Wii from melting itself all those years ago, and is a pretty big person on tech, so she likes to experiment and try new things, and actively tries to help Eteled out or transfer him through devices so he isn't just stuck in one place all the time, with lots of trial and tons of error, especially since she knows the Wii's getting old and that it can be unstable occasionally with glitches

• Kyle has also taken a liking to learning more about technology through Sam's influence so he sometimes comes over and they both will just study and brainstorm ideas

• Sam moved out of her home and now lives in her own apartment, is in college to pursue her dream of working around and creating technology, hasn't really considered making a job out of it since she mostly does it for fun and likes to achieve her dream goals, Nathan and Kyle also occasionally visit to just hang out and do whatever, usually resulting in the three staying up very late into a movie or game night, and Eteled having to talk Sam into getting sleep for the next morning

• Even though Sam is big on all tech, consoles and video games, she still has a soft spot for old generation consoles in particular

• Sam, Nathan and Kyle had all gotten pretty close growing up so they're like a dumbass trio /lh

• Will moved out of state or some shit

• Kyle wakes up from his villain arc and makes a truce with Eteled /J.. FR though Kyle softens up and becomes more understanding of Eteled's side after they start talking it out, while what happened did bother him at the time all those years ago, he just kinda grew up to the point where it didn't have such of an effect on him anymore, I mean all he saw was a Mii get slice and diced, no need to go beast mode over it, so they forgive each other of the past

• Kyle and Nathan are besties to homosexuals, homie love

• Sam made a Mii of herself from when she was younger to keep Eteled company when going out or having to attend school, Eteled appreciated it but wouldn't wanna admit how it wasn't the same and about how much he would miss Sam when she had to get off the Wii

• Gives Eteled abandonment issues because I love being evil

• He's actually clingy on the inside but would never admit it to anyone

• Also views Sam as a sort of daughter figure besides just a friend but is too nervous to mention it, he wants Sam to be safe, loves whenever she talks or rants to him about anything or shows him something she made or is proud of, or even just anything at all, father Eteled is proud of his child/bestie

• He like, genuinely feels loved around her and would definitely cry about it but would never show it, or at least try not to

• Eteled has the favorite Mii pants because Sam put them on him, with quote "I think it's about time my best friend gets to rock a new style", and yes it did make him almost cry on the spot

• Austin is like, mentally conflicted as hell

• Austin and Eteled both feel guilty for what they've done to each other over the years, aren't sure they can or are ready to forgive the other but they're very slowly learning to tolerate each other

• They're like enemies to kinda friends in a way

• They're traumatized mfs

• They still sometimes fight but it's usually just yelling or saying shit now, they don't do the chair, deletion or axe really anymore since they at least got to the point where they respect each other's boundaries and triggers, and there's no point to keep doing the same old for over 10+ years, for the most part, they still slip up sometimes

• They do fuck up though occasionally so that's why Eteled has scars and Austin is a bit more bashed up

• They still have a rooted dislike for each other they're trying to get over but they sometimes chill out or talk, usually when Sam is asleep or off the Wii for a while, the two just will maybe visit or sit around to at least try to understand the other better

• Sam knows Austin is still around, and it took a while but with time she grew to accept him when he didn't seem like a big threat anymore, and that he was just as important of a soul as Eteled was, she still didn't like the fights and didn't know the full story

• She'd probably section them away from the other with a child gate if she could

• Austin of course has an ego and would never tell another soul that he has many nightmares of the server room and about what happens if he gets caught off guard or is sleeping when Eteled decides to attack him again, Eteled wouldn't do that, and Austin knows it but it's just the deep rooted fear he can't get rid of, even though he's much taller and technically more powerful than the smaller Mii

• Eteled is just tired, usually just sleeps in the Mii channel, especially when under stress or tires himself out if he's going through a moment, like triggered memories or emotions

• From all the deleting and the chair, and more crap from his early life, Eteled is just terrified of it all so even the idea of them scares the fuck out of him, so as a natural response he just tries to defend himself with his axe even if he would be shaking like a chicken, he really tries not to pull it out but he can't always stop himself

• The axe itself would probably also bother Austin a bit, but he would still try to cautiously calm Eteled down since he knows he's just afraid, so afterwards they'd probably have to awkwardly apologize for what the fuck happened at that very moment

• Sam sometimes offers them both to play a game together with her, or plans on playing with Eteled and invites Austin along, as a way to make them bond, they do end up having some fun though

• Eteled has seen and/or been around or within newer Nintendo consoles, but personally prefers being in the Wii since he's used to it the most, and it's the most comfortable and homey to him

• Oh yeah, if Austin or Eteled is having an episode or is deeply upset then the other will try to help sometimes if it's really bad, Austin tries to hide it more but it doesn't always work, yeah they have reasonable reasons to not like the other, but they aren't complete assholes

• They both got trauma memories and aren't gonna just watch the other suffer through it

• Austin may or may not have taken in what Eteled had said all that time ago about "Learning to move past the past", even though that technically makes Eteled a hypocrite when he's constantly beating himself up about shit mentally, even after years, they are both doing it tbh

• Also Kyle doesn't know about Austin 100% but is curious to know his story and who he is and used to be, and how he got in the Wii, especially after the passing of his family member of the same name, little does he know..

• Sam also doesn't know about any of it, neither Sam or Kyle know of what happened or Austin's story, Austin being in a tight spot since he doesn't wanna reveal his identity yet, knowing the possible reaction, for Eteled's sake, Sam's and especially Kyle's, and Eteled being absolutely fucking terrified since the fear of losing someone like Sam could become real, and the small but growing friendship he was slowly making with Kyle could go right back to hatred and wanting the small Mii deleted, not including the fact that he still eats at himself for his past actions so it being brought back up again would be a ✨mess✨

• Austin doesn't know if he forgives Eteled or not, but wants to try to move past it and not be reminded in any way

• Nathan is still a little lowkey scared of Eteled ngl, doesn't wanna upset him or anything and Eteled can tell, he probably sighs to himself but he can't blame the guy

• Kyle has thought about making another Mii of himself on what is now long been Sam's Wii, now that he's older and him and Eteled are rather chill, but decided against it since he wasn't sure, not because he didn't trust Eteled, but because he figured it could potentially remind the Mii of the past, so whenever he plays on it he just uses Eteled

(That's all I can really recall on the top of my head for now, whenever I remember more or add on things I'll probably make a new post about it)

#eteled #henry #corrupted mii #austin #sam #kyle #nathan #will #wdy #wii deleted you #au #still not sure what i want to do with the considered bully characters #if i decide to add them #or what i would do with the parental figures #still a lot to think about and work on but yeah #i dont mind ideas or possible suggestions for some characters #im just vibing with my au and having fun #*does a little dance*

78 notes · View notes

fontegagrilledcheese · 3 years

Text

Dumbasses in Quarantine

This is my Bog Exchange fic! I finally finished! This is for the lovely @herostag I hope they like it!

Special thanks to Dani and Doug for beating my grammar with a stick. Ily <3

This is 2.9K words of idiots being idiots during the plague. Just pure fluff, no CW here. Modern Au.

1. Geralt had finally had enough of Jaskier complaining about all the takeout they had been consuming since everything had gone on lockdown, so here he was, watching a pot of noodles cook while Jaskier was in the living room weeding his island in Animal Crossing for the third time that week. He stirs the spaghetti around before grabbing a second pot and the jar of pasta sauce that he had bought at some point in the last few years. Geralt pours the sauce into the pot, throws some Italian seasoning in and hmms at the consistency before ladling some pasta water into the sauce to thin it out slightly. “Dinner’s almost ready” Geralt softly calls to Jaskier before going back to his noodles, fishing one out to check the doneness. Geralt bites into it and makes a face at the sweetness as Jaskier walks into the kitchen.

“Everything all right there?” Jaskier inquires, coming over to look into the pots on the stove.

“Hmmm, I think so. Taste this?” Geralt fishes another noodle out to hand over to Jaskier, who eats it with a hum.

“That doesn’t taste right,” Jaskier says thoughtfully. “But I don't know enough about cooking to dispute it.”

Geralt hums again, “Think it will be fine?”

Jaskier just shrugs and goes to set the table, leaving Geralt to finish putting the meal together. Geralt tilts his head at the pots on the stove before pulling out his phone to text Eskel ‘is pasta supposed to be sweet when cooking?’

While waiting for a reply, Geralt drains the noodles and dumps them into the sauce to stir them in before his phone rings with a call from Eskel.

“You tried a noodle and it tasted sweet?”

“Yeah, is it supposed to be like that?”

There is a moment of silence where Lambert can be heard laughing in the background before Eskel replies, “Are you sure you put salt in the water?”

“Yeah, poured a bunch of salt in there like you said to.”

Eskel hums, “Are you sure it wasn't sugar? Did you make sure to taste it first?”

The silence on Geralt's side is telling, and Lambert can be heard dying in the background.

“Thanks Eskel,” Geralt says before hanging up and staring down at the pot of sugared spaghetti.

“Hey Jask, how do you feel about getting takeout again?”

Jaskier sighs, “What happened?”

Geralt blushes “I… I may have put sugar in the water instead of salt…”

“Oh… but the sauce?”

“I put some of the pasta water in the sauce to thin it.”

Jaskier starts giggling, “G-Geralt... noooo.”

Geralt sighs, wearily turning off the stove. “So takeout?”

“Yeah, takeout is fine. Whatever you feel like.”

Geralt hums and pulls up the delivery app, “Sorry, Jask.”

Jaskier sidles up to him, giving him a half hug, “Thanks for trying.” He leans fully into him so he can see Geralt's phone as they order.

2. A while into quarantine, Jaskier decided he needed some greenery in his life, since he couldn’t leave the house. This led Jaskier to order himself a cute little cactus from a local nursery for the next time they order a grocery pick up. Talking Geralt into stopping by the shop on the way back from the store proved easier than Jaskier had anticipated. Geralt had begrudgingly agreed after hours of Jaskier’s pouting and puppy eyes wearing him down.

Jaskier dances around the apartment with his new treasure before placing it on the sunny windowsill in their living room. Geralt rolls his eyes but smiles at his roommates' antics, “You do know how to take care of it don’t you?”

Jaksier pouts at him, “It’s a cactus, how hard can it be! I just water it every so often and bam, beautiful thriving mini Geralt!”

Geralt huffs at him, grabbing a controller for their gaming console, “You promised I could destroy you at Mortal Combat if we picked up the plant.”

“Yes, yes Geralt I’m coming, just let me water my precious child.”

Weeks later, Little Geralt starts looking a bit droopy, causing Jaskier to water him, but unfortunately Jaskier does not account for his ADHD and lack of calendar filling out, and proceeds to water the poor cactus every day for the next two weeks, water logging and eventually killing poor Little Geralt.

Once Jaskier realizes, he cries to Geralt only a little and has a funeral for the cactus as he throws it away, being the absolute most dramatic about it as possible. Geralt just rolls his eyes at the antics and adds a new plant to the order list to pick up the next time they have their outing to go get groceries.

Jaskier gives Geralt the biggest hug when he realises they’re heading to the plant store and talks excitedly about how determined he is to to not kill Little Geralt the Second; Geralt just rolls his eyes half heartedly but helps Jaskier set up a calendar to keep track of when he’s watered the cactus. This works for about a month before Jaskier gets busy and forgets about his little plant, frying on the windowsill, until Geralt notices about three months later.

“Hey Jask, your cactus is looking a bit… shriveled.”

Jaskier rushes into the living room “NO!” He yells as he slides to a stop on his knees before the dried up little plant “Noooooooo, Little Geralt the Second, nooooo!” he shakes his fists at the ceiling.

Geralt pats his shoulder comfortingly, “At least it lived longer this time.”

Jaskier shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m a terrible plant parent.”

Geralt hmms consolingly, “We can get you another. I’ll try to help you keep better track of it this time.”

Jaskier nods, “Thanks Geralt,” and picks up his dead plant to go throw it out.

Geralt just hmms and pulls up the pick-up list on his phone to add a new little cactus.

Three months later, Little Geralt the Third is thriving in its place on the windowsill, happily soaking up the sun on a bright spring day as a breeze comes through the window. Jaskier dances around the living room, vacuuming and dusting as Geralt cleans the kitchen of the previous night’s actually decent attempt at cooking. Jaskier sings along to ABBA, twirling with his duster mic when disaster strikes poor Little Geralt the Third. Jaskier swirls too close to the window and pops his hip at just the wrong time and the plant wobbles before being pushed off the edge and falls three stories down to the concrete sidewalk down below. Jaskier freezes at the crashing sound and turns to look out the window, staring down at his poor, broken plant.

“Nooooooo, Geralt!” Jaskier yells, and Geralt comes running in from the kitchen, startled by Jaskier’s cry.

“Jask?!”

Jaskier just points down at the sidewalk, falling to his knees “Geralt, I killed him! I killed our son! To ABBA!”

Jaskier sprawls out on the floor dramatically, mourning the fate of poor Little Geralt the Third, who had been thriving wonderfully before going splat on the pavement.

Geralt sits down next to his dramatic roommate and pats his leg, “That one was actually doing pretty well. Maybe we could get another and just find a better place for it to sit?”

Jaskier sniffles and looks through his lashes at Geralt, “Really?”

Geralt nods before being tackled to the ground in a tight hug.

“Thanks Geralt.” Jaskier whispers, nuzzling into his friend.

3. Geralt stood staring into the mirror at the red roots growing into his perfect silver platinum hair. He pouts at it, looking at his hair and then back down at his phone at the pictures of his past beautiful silver hair.

“I can do it, how hard can it be?” he grumbles, glaring back at his roots. He nods to himself before searching different bleaches, toners, and silver dyes that are available at their local beauty shop.

A week and two trips to the store later, Geralt is once again standing in the bathroom and glaring at his roots in the mirror. “How hard can it be...”

Five hours later, Jaskier comes home from the park to Geralt sitting on the couch in a hoodie with the hood on and scrunched up around his face, pouting.

“So how did it go?” he asks.

Geralt grunts in response.

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” comes Jaskier’s exasperated reply, reaching for the hood over the back of the couch.

Geralt growls and catches his hand, yanking and pulling Jaskier over the couch and partially into his lap.

Jaskier laughs and reaches up again with both hands, trying to use one as a distraction. Geralt growls again and tackles him to the floor to pin him, where they tussle around before Jaskier gets an upper hand and pulls the hood off. Geralt freezes as Jaskier stares at him with wide eyes and a growing smile.

“Don’t,” he growls.

Jaskier’s grin turns into giggles, then into full on laughter. “Geralt! Your hair!”

Geralt sits back with a pout, still sitting on Jaskier. “I know, it's horrible.”

“It's bright purple! What did you do!?”

Geralt flushes, “I forgot to set a timer and left the toner in too long. It should wash out and wear off in a few weeks,” he grumbles.

Jaskier continues to giggle. “Well at least it's not permanent, and you bleached the roots pretty well.”

Geralt sighs and nods before laying down on Jaskier for a consolation cuddle. “Yeah, at least there's that.”

4. Geralt’s birthday was coming up and Jaskier was determined to celebrate it, even if they couldn’t go on their customary birthday bar crawl that they had gone on for both of their birthdays since they had been roommates in college. Jaskier wanted to go the extra mile for his bestest friend in the whole world and decided that he was going to make Geralt a homemade cake, icing drizzle and all. Jaskier had scoured the internet for weeks trying to find a cake he thought geralt would like and that he thought he could make with his limited baking abilities. He finally found the perfect recipe for a simple strawberry pound cake that he only had to buy a minimal amount of extra ingredients for.

The day of Geralt's birthday, Jaskier sets up in the kitchen and banishes Geralt to the living room to play his new Witcher game while Jaskier makes the cake.

He starts by setting out everything he needs and getting the beaters set up and his recipe out. He preheats the oven and then gets to work measuring everything out carefully, looking back at his recipe often, so often he doesn’t quite notice that he’s grabbed the salt container instead of the sugar and measures out the three cups the recipe calls for before adding it into the wet ingredients bowl to cream together as stated by the recipe. Jaskier goes about making his cake and mixing it up, carefully pouring it into the disposable cake tin they had bought specially for the event before putting it in the oven and carefully setting a timer on his phone.

He takes a break for a moment to make a cup of tea before cleaning up the mess from the cake and mixing up the simple drizzle icing for the cake.

The timer goes off and Jaskier pokes the cake with a toothpick as he has been directed, frowning at the lopsided cake.

“Is that how it should look?” he mutters to himself, looking at the clean toothpick. “Guess it’s done.”

He pulls the cake out of the oven and sets it on the rack to cool, poking little holes in it with the toothpick to help it cool and absorb some of the icing later.

After 30 minutes, he drizzles the icing over the cake, humming happily to himself.

“Geralt, do you want to do cake now or later?” he calls into the living room. Geralt hmms and stands before replying, “Now.”

Jaskier grins and grabs them plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake with.

Geralt stands beside him at the counter, smiling softly at the cake Jaskier has made him.

“Thanks Jask,” he says softly.

Jaskier grins fully at him. “Happy birthday, Geralt!”

They cut into the cake and serve themselves. Geralt happily eats his, reaching out to get seconds while Jaskier frowns at his slice. “Does this taste right to you?” he takes another bite while Geralt shrugs.

“Tastes fine to me,” he replies, happy to continue eating what his Jaskier has made him.

Jaskier frowns more and looks at his recipe, “I dunno, doesn’t it taste salty?”

Geralt hmms in thought before continuing to eat, “Suppose so, but it’s not too bad.”

Jaskier gasps. “Geralt! No Geralt, stop eating that! I must have mixed up the salt and sugar when I was measuring, oh! It's terrible, I’m so sorry, Geralt,” he whines, looking almost at the verge of tears.

This causes Geralt to pause his gremlin-like cake eating, setting the plate down before pulling his best friend into a tight hug, resting his head against the others. “So maybe you had a booboo with it and it’s a little salty. You know I’m not picky, and it tastes fine and vaguely like strawberries. I’ll eat it anyway, Jask.” he grumbles out.

Jaskier sniffles. “But you deserve a good cake that’s made correctly.”

Geralt hums, “Maybe, but this is something you’ve made for me with all your heart, and I think it tastes alright, and I will keep eating it, because you made it for me and that makes it taste all the sweeter.”

Jaskier sniffles again, squeezing the man in his arms tightly “Oh, you big softy! You don’t have to eat it.”

“But I want to.”

“Fine.” Jaskier sighs, nuzzling the broad chest he’s pressed against. “Love you”

Geralt smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Jaskiers temple. “Love you too, you disaster.”

Jaskier gasps and smacks his chest “You!”

Geralt laughs and grabs his cake before dragging Jaskier to the couch. “Come on, I demand my birthday cuddles.”

Jaskier puffs his cheeks but settles against Geralt on the couch, holding the controller for him “If this is my penance.”

5. Usually Jaskier did the laundry while Geralt did dishes. This was because Jaskier had many a delicate piece in his wardrobe and he did not trust Geralt to treat his clothes the right way if he were to do the laundry. Geralt didn’t care much either way who did the dishes and who did the laundry, as long as the chores ended up done in the end. This was how their kitchen, laundry nook, and part of their living room ended up absolutely covered in bubbles.

They had decided to switch up the chore rotation for the week because the dishes weren’t too bad and Jaskier hadn’t worn any of his ‘delicate’ pieces in the past week and a half, meaning there was nothing of his Geralt could mess up. The switching of chores had unforeseen consequences however, in that neither remembers exactly how to do the new chore, as they hadn’t had to in at least a year. Rather than ask the other for help, both Jaskier and Geralt decided to wing it and try their best.

Jaskier stares down at Geralt, slav squatting, staring at the bubbles that were slowly invading their apartment via the laundry and kitchen.

“So, I couldn’t remember which dish liquid was the one for the dishwasher and put the red one in, which was apparently the wrong choice…… What did you do to create the bubbles in the washer?”

Geralt grunts. “That was the dawn dish soap that we hand wash the alcohol glasses with,” he sighs. “I may have put a full cup of laundry detergent in the washing machine”

Jaskier gasps “A full- Geralt! The entire cup!? That’s at least double the amount you’re supposed to use!”

Geralt pouts. “I couldn’t remember how much,” he grumbles

“You could have asked me!”

This earns Jaskier a raised eyebrow and the stink eye.

“Fair enough,” he giggles. “We should have asked each other when we were confused.”

Geralt nods before standing. “Well I guess we should turn the appliances off before the bubbles get worse… wish me luck”

Jaskier nods and jokingly salutes him. “I’ll remember you dearly.”

Geralt chuckles and shakes his head before wading into the bubbles to stop the dishwasher and washing machine cycles.

A minute later he reappears, covered in bubbles from head to toe, looking like some sort of grumpy snowman. Jaskier laughs at him before Geralt smirks and captures him in a bear hug, causing the man to shriek. “Nooo! Geralt my clothes! Ackkkk!”

Geralt swings him, picking him up slightly. “I think if we let the bubbles settle we can clean up in a little, but we should change first.”

Jaskier pouts “The point of you doing it was so only one of us had to change.”

Geralt gives him a toothy grin, carrying him towards their bedrooms to change. “But you laughed at me, that demands retribution.”

Jaskier just sticks his tongue out at him before being set down in front of his room. “Wanna play Smash while we wait?”

Geralt grins, “What, wanna get wrecked that badly?” he winks to Jaskiers affronted gasp before going in his room to change.

guess I’ll add my tag list huh

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskiersvalley @jaskierswolf @dani-dandelino @wherethewordsare @softnerdypeter @thecomfortofoldstorries @dapandapod @lindianaj0nes @kuripon @elliestormfound @veritasrose

Hope y’all enjoyed it >///<

223 notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)

Word count: 22k

Summary: When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy!

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on.

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right?

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.”

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway.

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in.

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess.

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency.

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?”

Jungkook laughs in agreement.

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.

You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration.

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!”

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents?

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh.

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in.

She checks the clipboard then on Jimin.

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot.

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies.

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous.

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask.

While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business.

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home.

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway.

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe.

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain.

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot.

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask.

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness.

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him.

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?”

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing.

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused.

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though.

There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that.

And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon.

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling.

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head.

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind.

“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go.

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm.

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth.

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college.

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type.

Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is.

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt.

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores.

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes.

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid.

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence.

“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out.

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing.

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you.

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?”

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?”

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently.

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats.

Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you.

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud.

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything.

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other.

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do.

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers.

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers.

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls.

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him.

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs.

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so.

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says.

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home.

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother.

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers.

Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away.

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice.

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.”

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier.

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass.

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?”

“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!”

“Or that time when…” You throw him another pillow.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow.

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.”

He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted.

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up.

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.”

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself.

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.”

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”

And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues.

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder.

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action.

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life.

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children.

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while.

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative.

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before.

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know.

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh.

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want.

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same.

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck.

He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close.

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same.

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future.

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother.

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.”

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were.

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story.

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says.

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks.

“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…”

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.”

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do.

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together?

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind.

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act.

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.”

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you.

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly.

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking.

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you.

“I - I actually don’t know.”

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses.

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were.

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is.

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem.

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though.

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that.

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said.

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back.

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work.

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting.

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence.

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit.

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat.

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week.

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed.

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does.

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice.

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this.

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too.

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago.

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying.

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing.

You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter.

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you.

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows.

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while.

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food.

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now.

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.”

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.”

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this.

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain.

“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.

“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in.

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh.

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer.

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation.

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid.

“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.”

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him.

“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“

“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up.

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted?

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!”

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying.

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.”

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control.

“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him?

You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again.

You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him.

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red.

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod.

“Sleep well, ___.”

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts.

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story.

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped.

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation.

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts.

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back.

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling.

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help.

Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more.

You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him.

This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret.

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes.

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then.

You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing.

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is.

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing.

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body.

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences.

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.”

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt.

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time.

You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group.

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form.

You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.

“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration.

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time.

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.

Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected.

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.

Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door.

It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing.

He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say.

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat.

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own.

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.

Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair.

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized.

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”

His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth.

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you.

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different.

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating.

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school.

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school.

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t.

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up.

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway.

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game.

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him.

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that.

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.

Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it.

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place.

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that.

Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now.

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you.

“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?”

You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue.

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother.

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away.

“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out.

“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room.

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours.

“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently.

“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face.

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid.

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“

“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.

“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.”

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him.

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze.

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this.

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust.

“And I avoided you because—“

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on.

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.”

At this, he stops.

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him.

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually.

Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this.

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open.

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you.

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday.

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday.

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next.

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine.

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move.

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook.

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time.

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point.

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…”

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.”

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing.

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same.

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus.

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do.

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him.

“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him.

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation.

All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed.

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good.

He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows.

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs.

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.

But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you.

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs.

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes.

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you.

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces.

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there.

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?”

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?”

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door.

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond.

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment.

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

masterlist

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #brother's best friend #hold me close #oneshot #mine

2K notes · View notes