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jiminrings · 3 years

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hi OHMDHHD STEM KOO is the cutest and sulky stem!koo!!! r u kiddinggg. So What if jungkook sees yoongi eating off of y/n's lunchboxes and his mind just goes...

stem koo sees someone else eating from his lunchbox(s) and freaks out 🥺🥺! senior oc is like o_o! thank u for writing

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo’s so mad that he might pop a vein

“do i even wanna know what happened to you last night?”

yoongi grimaces at you first thing in the morning, his grogginess proving no hindrance in being annoying himself

you’ve woke up with no hangover at all because you didn’t go back to the party to get your fill, the fresh experience still a little new

“jungkook asked me if i could walk him home and i did.”

you did wHAT now

sure, yoongi knows that no matter how ruthless you could be, you’d still go the extra mile if someone asked you to

but for jUNGKOOK?!?!

as in jungkook, the junior you have (maybe had at this point) a crush on, and have been making lunchboxes for a duration of two weeks?

also jungkook, the same guy who was a colossal asshole and have been more or less giving away the lunches you’ve secretly been making him??

THAT jungkook????

“y/n what do you have to say for yourself?” he gasps audibly, trying to shove at you but not without almost poking his eyes from pointing out the crusties

alright you expected this

you kinda deserve this

“buT he was like, two seconds away from a breakdown so i felt compelled to take care of him.”

that bit’s actually true and kook was about to cry in the middle of a party right then and there

he would’ve also rubbed his eyes raw to the point that he’d forget he made the stupid decision of wearing his eye contacts!!!

“yeah, yeah, i understand that part!!!” yoongi admits and he commends you in all honesty, “but what if he misinterprets that?”

you stop in your tracks at making a hangover bagel, attention clearly more piqued this time

“but there’s nothing to misinterpet..?”

LMAOOOO

ok maybe that’s where you’re wrong

yoongi scoffs at the question marks floating above your hand, scoffing even more when you still don’t get it

“no offense, but have you ever seen jungkook? he looks like the type to get attached too quickly. to the delivery guy. to a stain on the wall. to a laminated copy of his class schedule. he’d be a puppy sniffing at your heels in no time, y/n.”

>:(

“no he wouldn’t.”

......

uhhhhh

you, in fact, should probably listen to yoongi more

it’s monday and for the entirety of your day up until lunch, you’ve been getting stares at the back of your head!!!

you can’t see who but you kNOW that someone just keeps looking at you

you want to stare back to creep them off but you just!! can’t!! tell!! who!!

it’s frankly getting annoying and it’s making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up

“you’re the bEST!! you made me lunch and i didn’t have to beg??” yoongi exclaims when you slide a lunchbox towards him, hugging you by force when he sees that it’s his favorite rolls inside

lol cute

if only you didn’t view yoongi completely platonically and in a very repulsive way, he would’ve been your boyfriend by now

“yesterday. you didn’t beg yesterday and you only had to beg twenty times in the days before that,” you chuckle as he squeezes you, having to tug at his hair as soon as the hug started getting too long

man that is fREEING

you wipe off the imaginary crumbs he’s given you, scratching at the back of your neck when you furrow your brows in annoyance

“hey yoongi, is there someone behind me? jesus, someone’s been staring at the back of my head all day and it’s literally burning me.”

he’s been glancing up the whole time, cheeks full from the rice and it’s only when you call him out loud that he sTOPS chewing, head tilting automatically

yoongi actually starts chewing faster and that makes you THINK he has something to say, making you feel pressured nonetheless that you jostle him to get him to chew faster

jeez why’s he choking now

you offer your water bottle to him that he takes a longer than necessary sip from, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, only to nonchalantly gesture to the back of you

“you mean jungkook?”

huh

alright WHO now

listen

you have nEVER seen jungkook like this

BUT NEITHER HAS JUNGKOOK EVER SEEN YOU LIKE THIS

NOR YOONGI

NOR EVERYTHING LIKE THIS!!!

he woke up extra early and all because he was beyond motivated

and he even stayed up last night to search up crafts!!!

origami box crafts to house your eyedrops that he was gonna return to you!!!

but tHEN he realized that the paper would quickly be ruined regardless if he puts them in his pocket or backpack

and so jungkook mADE a little drawstring pouch instead

but then it started looking a little too plain and a little too perfect that you’d probably think he got it from the store and that he didn’t make it himself!!!

SO NATURALLY

jungkook had to design it somehow and learn how to stitch on a heart!!!!

but what if that was a little too romantic for eyedrops?? :///

alright fINE

he stitched on an outline of a carebear holding the heart

bUT WHAT IF you’d think it was just a ratty hand-me down or something???

jungkook stitched on your initials on the carebear

..... hold on

is he even sure that those are your initials

fuck it

jungkook has an origami box, a carebear heart initial drawstring pouch and a plain ol’ ziplock baggie in his backpack just in case

he devised a strategic plan on how to drop in the item at the last minute when he decides which approach to take after he finds you

a-after..... he finds....... you

is that..

is that his fucking LUNCHBOX????

THAT’S HIS LUNCHBOX???????

jungkook could literally see red

his yearly check-ups are all up to date but holy fuck absolutely NO ONE said that his blood pressure is capable of rising up like this

all he has is tunnel vision for his pastel blue lunchbox and the unfortunate blonde guy attached to it

he has NEVER walked this fast with so much purpose

he doesn’t even realize that people are going out of his path because sheesh they’ve also nEVER seen jeon jungkook from stem ever look this determined nor furious

he’s clenching his jaw so hard that he might not have to get his wisdom teeth taken out

“that’s my lunchbox.”

jungkook seethes from his teeth and the vein at the side of his neck is making the same appearance as his flared nostrils

he’s seeing red to the point that he doesn’t even realize that he’s seething at his senior, and even min yoongi at that

he’s seeing red and his blue lunchbox at the same time that he doesn’t even realize that you’re sitting rIGHT next to where he’s stood while he stares yoongi down

no one knows how to react actually

you’re too frozen, yoongi’s too appalled, and jungkook’s too angry

oh my fucking god

wAIT

it’s actually dawning on you that you’re about to get found out in front of jungkook and almost half of the entire university a-and-

“you think you’re the only one with the same blue lunchbox in the world?” yoongi recuperates from his shock and saves you as soon as he realizes the gravity of the situation when your eyes are wide and emotional instead of being narrowed and blank, “you’re not that special. think again, kid.”

yeah his tone might’ve been patronizing

but gOD yoongi is beyond offended

yeah jungkook might be a lil pissy bitch but he IS eating from “his” lunchbox or whatever

but never in a million years did he think that the kid would have some balls on him to approach him like that

fyi yoongi would nEVER come to his senior like that!!!! he wouldn’t even have the gall to come up and approach seokjin like that just some years ago!!!!!

jungkook balls his fists at that and he comes down off of the situation a little, but it never gets quite diffused

“maybe i’m not.”

his gaze lightened on yoongi but it’s still as hard as it’s skeptical, walking away wordlessly but not without sending you a soft gaze quickly

“but i know that sticking my nose to where it should belong is my specialty.”

#stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook edit #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

#david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #impact wrestling fanfic #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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