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purplecoffee13 · 3 months

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Mr. Sunshine - part 2

Part 1 & Series Masterlist & General Masterlist

Summary: “You start tutoring Harry, the two of you grow closer, and you get more and more confused with the way you feel about him.”

Wc: 4K

Tropes: grumpy!MC x sunshine!H

Warnings: none. Just Harry being a cutie and bantering with Y/N

"Wait... which one do metanarratives belong to again?"

"Lyotard!"

"Oi, chill out, sunshine! You're giving me too much information at the same time. Everything and everyone is beginning to look the same to me." Harry sighs, leaning back in his seat.

You and him had been going over different literary theories for the past few weeks. You felt it was necessary for him to be able to explain each theory at the top of his head, both for his upcoming re-sit as for his own benefit. It'd make it easier to identify said theories in the reading material you got from the course.

Your jaw clenched at his nickname for you. He had been using it ever since the first session. You knew he did it to annoy you, and it was most definitely sarcastic. If anything, you should call him sunshine. He is quite literally Mr. Sunshine. Always smiling, always happy and never put down by the weight of the world.

Asshole.

"The Postmodern Condition quite literally revolves around metanarratives. Or well, its skepticism towards it." You explain to him what feels like the thousandth time.

You aren't exactly annoyed with repetition; you knew what you were getting yourself into. You are simply frustrated with the fact that it seems like Harry doesn't want to remember what he's studying. You know he's smart, and you know he can memorize things quite quickly, but these literary theories seem to be kicking him in the butt.

You, however, have found that with enough nagging and fed up glares he puts in the work you know he's capable of. He likes your stern attitude, maybe it motivates him better, you think.

Harry has been loving your tutoring hours, and he never wants it to end. He loves postmodernism and post-structuralism, and knows more about the subjects than the professor of your course, but he made sure not to tell you. It would just be two more things for you to explain to him, and an opportunity for more tutoring sessions to attend.

He knows that you have been trying to be nice, and he sees that you've been enjoying helping him. Those soft sides of you, though they didn't come out often, were like seeing rays of sunshine through a cloud. But he loved your storm, and frankly, he was getting a bit freaked out at how non aggressive you were being towards him. So he found other ways to get on your nerves, and boy did it work.

"Right, right... I'm hungry, wanna eat something?" Harry changes the subject once again. He has been unwilling to study this whole session. It seems like this week he has lost all motivation and it is irritating you to no end. He almost has all the necessary theories down, but it appears as if he doesn't want to remember them.

"No! We aren't done yet. C'mon, you literally almost got it." You growl, the frustration dripping from your voice. Arms crossed, you stare at him and watch as he leans forward to you with a deviant smirk on his face.

"Get food with me and I promise I'll be a good student." He tries to bargain.

"I don't know why you're trying to bribe me with your obedience. These tutoring sessions are beneficial to you, not me." You cross your arms, leaning back into your seat. You are exhausted from all the studying too, but you know that if he just puts his mind to it, it won't take longer than ten minutes for Harry to have everything memorized. But of course, he needs to take the difficult route...

"How do you feel about burgers? I'm not really in the mood for pizza tonight." Harry ignores you and takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Harry!" You groan, throwing your head back in frustration.

"Fine, sunshine, if you really want pizza we'll go to Alessandro's." He sounds like a defeated child, and despite the migraines Harry caused you, a smile grew on your face.

"I hate you." You simply say, fighting the corners of your lip from tugging up.

"You love me. It's okay, you can admit it. I love you too, you know?" Harry just grins at you. Your jaw is clenched and you roll your eyes, and he celebrates before you even say the word, because he's learned everything about your body language when it comes to his. Rolling your eyes means he's won you over.

When Harry closes his books and starts packing up, you frown. "What do you think you're doing? We're going right back to studying after dinner."

"I know." He shrugs, continuing to put away his stuff.

"Then why are you putting your books in your bag?"

"Because we're going out to eat." Harry says, getting up and putting on his jacket. Not once does he meet your eye. His casual tone has you dumbfounded.

"I thought you were ordering pizza." You squint your eyes at him, trying to get him to stay. Why did he insist on all the hassle anyway?

"You don't want pizza." He replies in a calm tone as he begins packing up your books for you. You look up at him, your glance shooting down to the necklace that dangles below his face as he leans over you. His scent takes over your entire nose, and you feel yourself get a little distracted from it. Just for a second, though. You are quick to regain your senses.

"Don't tell me what I feel." You growl at him. Harry doesn't do anything but chuckle at your — to him — weak attempt at shoving him away. Not today, he thinks. Not ever.

"When we got pizza two weeks ago, you said you can only have it every few months, otherwise you'll get sick of it." Harry says, and you feel you ears go red. You had said that. And he had remembered it.

What a weirdo.

After a few moments of silence, you decided to speak up. After all, he was being nice and all, so you figured you owed him a reply at the very least.

"Where is this stupid hamburger place anyway?"

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

"I can't believe you still haven't had enough." You say, eyes wide as you watch Harry completely demolish what's left on your plate after you gave up on clearing it.

He ate so much, which wasn't particularly weird for a guy built like him. He needed the food, it was fuel to him and he had mentioned that he hadn't eaten a lot today. Still, you find yourself fascinated at just how much he manages to eat.

"Oi, stop shaming me."

"I'm not shaming, just observing." You shrug, letting your gaze fall into the rest of the diner where Harry drove the both of you tonight. It was a bit old fashioned, had some of that 50's retro feel to it. Reminded you of Grease. You loved that movie.

You find two of the waitresses giggling and staring at Harry while whispering things to each other. When they catch your gaze, their eyes widen for a second, before they both turn their back to you and get back to work. Weird.

"What are you glaring at?" Harry asks before taking a drink from his coke. You eyes shoot back to his. You hadn't realized you were glaring. No wonder the girls didn't dare hold your eyes.

"I'm not glaring, this is just my face." You give him a sarcastic smile, fiddling with the straw of your drink. Harry, sipping on that drink of his, still manages to conjure somewhat of a smile which he happily throws at you. You feel yourself envy him for it. That lightness he carries with him, the way he uncomplicates things with the light of his smile. It's unfair, and yet there is no way in which you could ever be mad at him for it.

"Can I ask you a question?" You say it before you can stop yourself. This so isn't you, why would you ask permission to ask him a question? What has gotten into you?

"Yes, they're real." Harry strokes a finger over his mouth and pulls it into a naughty smile.

"Harry..." you urge.

"You can ask me anything, sunshine." He assures you before taking the last piece of your hamburger in his mouth, and you ignore how your cheeks warm up at the way he says your name.

"How are you always so... happy?" You tilt your head a bit as you ask the question. You wait until Harry has swallowed his food and took another gulp of his drink before finally saying something.

"I regularly get laid."

Your eyes widen in horror. Of course you wouldn't get anything close to a serious answer from him. That's what irritated you about him. It wasn't the part where insinuating that he was sleeping with other people bothered you, it was the part where he took everything as a joke. Yeah, that was the part that annoyed you the most. Harry starts laughing at your shocked face.

"What? It's true." He chuckles. "It's way easier to have a positive outlook on life if you aren't sexually frustrated."

It stays quiet between the two of you. It is a moment in which you pretend you do not find his answer funny, and where he pretends he doesn't know you do actually find it funny.

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry asks, and you nod, hoping the subject will be changed now. That vulnerable moment of yours didn't unravel the way you hoped it would. Nothing ever unravels the way you think it will around Harry.

"How come I've never seen you at a party?"

You shrug. "Maybe you haven't looked hard enough."

"I have." Harry doesn't miss a beat with responding to you. "You're never there. You hate people that much?"

"I don't hate people." You suddenly feel defensive. You never quite mind having people think of you as a the boring silent girl or the buzz killer, but Harry just confronting you with it hits harder than it should. Maybe it's because he's saying it, or maybe it's because of your past experiences. Either way, it's bothering you.

"Then what is it?" He keeps pushing.

"None of your goddamn business." You snap at him; your standard method to keep people as far away as you can. But Harry shakes his head, making a disapproving noise.

"Nope. I answered your question, you answer mine. An eye for an eye, my friend." He argues casually. Silence befalls the two of you as you ponder on how to answer that. You half expected him to throw out some profanities and leave, like you think the average person would have done if they had been snapped at like that, so now you're at a loss for words.

"I don't like to drink."

"That's why you don't go to parties?"Harry frowns in a way where you know he doesn't fully believe you. You ignore it, and shrug you shoulders.

"I guess, yeah." You slowly nod, quite satisfied with your answer of choice. It's partly honest and believable, although Harry doesn't quite seem to.

"You don't have to stop yourself from going to a party just because you don't like to drink." Harry tilts his head.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice." You attempt to smile at him but it your mouth just twists very awkwardly and so you shoot your head down. You get up from the booth, and gather your stuff.

"I'm gonna go the bathroom, and then we're going to continue studying." You say, not even waiting for an answer before you walk away.

When you come back, Harry is already waiting by the door with his coat on. You frown and try to walk past him to the table, where you see some cash laying. But Harry grabs your arm and pulls you towards him before you can pass him. You look up at him with big eyes; you're caught off guard by his touch.

He opens the door for you and puts a hand the small of your back, leading you back to the car. He doesn't take it off of you, even though you're already outside.

"How much was it?"

"It's taken care of."

"How much was it?"

"Consider it a payment for your tutoring services." Harry says as he opens the car door for you.

"Harry!" You cross your arms, scowling at him. He chuckles at your angry demeanor. He chuckles! You couldn't believe him, he thought your anger was funny?! "You pay me in coffee. Just let me pay you back."

"It's really okay, Y/N. I was the one who wanted to go out to eat, I was happy to pay." He says, keeping his eyes on you as he takes a hold of your crossed arms and pushed you into the passenger seat. For some reason, you let him. And he knows you are letting him do this, and it makes the grin on his face grow even more. "Feet in."

You hesitantly follow his orders, but your crossed arms and scowl remain. Your eyes widen when Harry grabs your seatbelt and leans over you to buckle it. You want to be mad at the way he's handling you like a toddler, but then again you are acting like that out of some form of defiance to him paying for you. But it's mostly the smell of his perfume that washes any anger or resentment you might have towards him away. You stare breathlessly at the few curls that hangs before his face and you realize you haven't ever seen anyone this beautiful.

Harry doesn't look at you when he pulls away, or as he closes your door and walks to the drivers' seat. He doesn't even glance at you when he's buckling his own seatbelt or starting the car. But you do. You stare at him like a freak. When the car starts you get thrown out of your trance, and you realize... fuck. You need to get laid.

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

You:

Hey

Harry:

Hey sunshine

You:

you reply fast

Harry:

only if it's important ;)

You:

🙄… I wanted to say thanks for the dinner again. I hope it wasn't too expensive.

Harry:

it was my pleasure sunshine. And it wasn't :)

You:

are you sure? I mean the prices of these food joints keep getting higher and higher

Harry:

I'm not going to let you pay your part.

You:

come on! why not? I don't want to feel like I owe you anything

Harry:

I owe you more than you owe me. You're the one tutoring me.

You:

still...

Harry:

dinner is on me. End of discussion.

besides, a gentleman always pays on the first date.

You stare at your screen, wide eyes. How does he always know how to shut you up?

Harry:

that's what I thought. Goodnight sunshine xx

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

"I think you got it." You sigh, leaned back in your seat as you look at Harry, who is sitting across from you. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head.

"I don't know..."

"Harry, you're going to ace this re-sit. I promise, you know more about literary theories than I did when I made the test, and I got an A." You assure him.

Ever since your shared dinner, Harry insisted on meeting up three times a week instead of two. Sometimes he would even plead for four, and since you had quite literally no friends and thus no social life, you agreed. It was kind of pathetic, but you had begun to realize that you might have just become a loner out of habit, not because you necessarily love being on your own more than being around people.

It had dwelled on you, that thought. The idea that you maybe had been a people person after all, but that no one wanted to hang out with you, which made you grumpy and hurt and caused you to push people away. But you knew that it wasn't a thought, it was a realization. You had pushed the happiness of other people's company away because what happened in the past had scared you too much.

Harry looks at you, unsure. You don't like seeing him this insecure, even though you know it's just his nerves for the re-sit on Friday. Over the weeks you have gained this need to see him happy, which has confused you to the very max. But you can't help it, it doesn't look right when he's anything but cheery.

"How about you go over your notes, find your weak points, and memorize the fuck out of those. And then I'll go over everything with your on Friday morning." You offer, and he nods, grabbing the papers and starting to wade through them. His face is bundled up into a serious, concentrated frown. His concentration face is the closest you think you're ever going to be to seeing his angry face.

You sit in silence for the next five minutes as you wait for him to highlight all the points he wants some more clarification on. You drink the last of your caramel macchiato and get up to throw it away. Harry's eyes shoot up towards you, and he sits up a little straighter. You have noticed over the past two months that Harry is very observant of your every move.

A couple more minutes go by in which he silently studies the papers in his hands and you're cleaning up the mess you both have made on the desk. The amount of books and notes and scribbles have gone into these months of tutoring is insane. Besides your uni work, this is the most effort you've ever put into something, or better said someone. But it was worth it. You're staring at him and you think yes, yes it was worth it.

If there's anything that you have learned from your limited time with him, it's that he might just be the only one whose annoying features don't annoy you.

You thought that maybe your introverted character was just you shutting out anyone who would dare to come to close, and maybe it was, partly at least, but you had realized that there was a reason you didn't talk to a lot of people. They were insufferable!

You had tried, after your dinner with Harry, to be more social in class. Maybe even 'get laid' as Harry had so eloquently described. At the end of the day, he was kind of right. And you thought that maybe you just had some kind of stick up your ass that needed to be removed.

But you soon realized that it wasn't all you. People were annoying. So, in the end you only got a bit closer to your roommate. She was cool, and like Harry, her presence didn't make you want to rip your hair out.

You know, though, that with Harry it's different. It's extra comforting and extra calming, but you aren't quite ready to admit that to yourself. It's best to ignore it, especially because after these tutoring sessions, the contact between you and him would have to come from his own free will. And you didn't think you were fun enough for him to stay friend with voluntarily.

"Okay." Harry sighs, leaning back as he threw the paper on the table. He's so tired; his eyes are a bit red. He really needs to sleep.

"Don't look so freaked out, you're fine." You spew out the most encouraging thing your brain can come up with. Inspirational speeches have never really been your forte, so to say.

Harry doesn't say anything, just nods and packs his bag. You feel a pit in your stomach. He looks kind of sad. Did you just cause that?

In a state of panic, you fiddle with your opened bag, and an un-eaten Twix bar you bought earlier today catches your eye. You never ate it because you forgot, and now you're not hungry anymore. You take it out of your bag and put it on his side of the table.

Harry, who was organizing his own stuff, frowns at the candy bar laid in front of him, and his eyes slowly trail up to you. You just stare at him, almost a scared look on his face, as you keep your mouth shut and pray he will understand the message.

"Did you just give me a candy bar?" He questions the obvious. You nod, which seems to make him more confused. "Why?"

You shrug your shoulders, and start packing up more of your stuff. Your jaw clenches and upon feeling your cheeks heat up, you reach out to snatch the candy bar away from him. "You know what, never mind—"

But Harry grabs your wrist before you can take a hold of the candy bar, and he takes the Twix with his other hand, putting it in his bag. He gives you a playful smirk as he leans forward, your hand brushing against his shirt.

"Thank you, sunshine."

He knew what the Twix bar meant, he knew you were trying to console him in your own odd way. He just wanted to put you on the spot. You scowl at him, but don't say anything.

"So, I had a question." Harry says after letting go of your wrist and continuing to fill up his bag with his studying materials. You hum a in a bored tone, a bit frustrated with him at the way he just teased you.

"My friends are throwing a party on Saturday, and I thought you might like to come with me."

Your mouth is still tightly shut, but the glare you send his way is enough of an answer. No.

"What do you say, hmm? I promise it'll be fun." He wiggles his eyebrows. Your glare shoots from his eyebrows back to his eyes. You don't know if that was supposed to make the offer enticing, because if anything it made you want to go even less.

"No."

"Ah, c'mon! Why not?"

"I don't drink." You throw the argument from last time back on the table.

"We'll stay sober together. We'll just drink soda or whatever."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I told you, I don't drink." You say, and get up from your seat, walking away.

"And I told you, we can stay sober. You don't need alcohol to have fun." Harry shrugs, stumbling out of his seat to catch up with you.

"I know that." You grumble.

"Then what's the problem? Why don't you want to go?"

You're waiting until you snap at him. Tell that he needs to mind his own business and quit pushing you because he's not your friend or even anything close to that. That just because you sit and help him in exchange for coffee means that he is entitled to know anything about you.

But you can't. Because it isn't true. So even though there's a part inside of you that tells you to scream at him, you take a deep breath instead. You turn to him, and look into his green eyes. You don't stare at them often enough.

"Because I don't want to drink."

"But I just said—"

"At all."

Harry tilts his head at your confession. You hold your breath until he finally speak up again.

"At all?"

"At all."

You look at him expectantly, but an answer never comes from Harry. Instead, he simply nods and resumes to walking. Slightly dazed, it takes a few seconds for your feet to get with the program and start moving too.

The rest of the way to your place, he says absolutely nothing...

#harry styles #fanfic #writing #blurb #fanfiction #harry #one direction #mini series

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lavenoon · 1 year

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Hi! :D *Gets out my notepad* So, for AU AU AU, after the incident in which Sun scared Robin, we have some instances in which we see how it stayed with them for a long time, aside from just thinking that Sun fakes any beyond professional friendliness towards them (like in one of the alternate reveals when he inisists Robin quits due to being stabbed a second time and Robin flinches, and Sun says directly he knows he scares them). We also have the other alternate reveal that mirror’s Moon’s best scenario, but instead of pillows to the face, y/n’s first instinct is to run out of the room and get the toy gun, (which I mean obviously not too threatening or meant to hurt XD but I think it’s telling they felt the need to have something to shoot with and are willing to go the whole way to get it, when with Moon the nearby pillows were enough). The first stabbing did show them he could drop the super serious act and be caring, even if they didn’t know how to interpret his panic at the time and probably tried not to look into it. The scare was also bad enough for Robin to always question what is a ruse and what is not with Sun. My question is, how much is Robin actually wary or scared of him? Is it a “I trust you with my life in the field but as soon as we’re alone I’m not taking my eyes off you”, a “actually I’m fine with you around most of the time but if I’m reminded of that particular moment I’m keeping my distance and getting jumpy”, or “dude you are terrifying but so am I, and if that is part of the competition then so be it” or maybe something else? We know he gets a lot more touchy post reveal haha, so I wanted to sort of know how much they need to work on that particular aspect of building the relationship. (Not me researching characters to get them exactly right fdjgfhgfjg)

If I had popcorn I would've eaten it reading along with this gfhdjs I love analysis!!

The scare was a mix of things! First of all, on a professional level, the thing even reverse Robin is still proudest of, their rival could do in a suit and loafers. That rankles. This was supposed to be their high ground, the thing he can't take from them, the thing still guaranteeing their top spot. So it fills their rivalry with a lot more tension, because Robin now works twice as hard to ensure he won't leave them behind, while also still unaware that Dawn is working in a team.

They aren't scared of him on that level - they know Dawn sticks to the rules of the agency, and would never seriously harm them without them starting it, and they don't plan on that because they value their job, too. They trust him to do his job - and at times, that job includes looking out for them (and vice versa). It's nothing personal, so they trust it.

Because on a personal level? They pretty much assume he can't stand them, actually. They're fully ready to admit that's their own fault for provoking him, but they also are convinced there's no coming back from that, and, frankly, if he wants to be like that, they don't intend to fix something that he has no interest in anyways.

Which leads to the subconscious level - because with time, Robin does start liking Dawn, and trusting him on a personal level, too. But they are so convinced that he dislikes them that they can't even admit that trust to themself, because that would make them a sucker. They're already the smaller, human agent who struggles to keep up with him. They don't want to also be the person stuck in a one sided friendship, too.

Dawn, of course, also is an idiot! When these conflicting feelings make Robin flinch or hesitate more and more with time, he interprets that as them getting even more scared, and everyone misses each other's signals or misinterprets them.

It's a bit of a mess all around! Which is why for these two, the reveal is absolutely necessary to help them relax around each other. They need to not work when they talk, meet each other off the clock, where that whole factor isn't important, and they can mend that personal bridge at their own pace <3

#answer let luce #chaotikanvas #accidentally undercover #AU AU AU #ofc it's not helping that he's tall af and they know just how intimidating he can be #but they *are* a secret agent too #it's not fear of what he might do to them or anything #just plain old fear of rejection again #as it always is with these idiots FGHDJ #get them right you say tho huh #insert all seeing eye emoji

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dark9896 · 1 year

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Spilled Tea [Blurb Cannon]

Requested by Anonymous 🔥

No one was expecting the lights to go out. Even more worrisome when a sniper laser began tracking through the living room. Klaus had been quick to put himself between danger and everyone within arms reach, following your instructions to duck into a narrow passage. Trusting you when you said it lead to a secret bunker. Given everything they thought they knew had long since gone up in smoke over the past 24 hours, it wasn't difficult to think you still had tricks up your sleeve.

What they didn't know, what you had to explain after the fact, was how you had planned the chaos. Using the cover of dark to wreck your own apartment with a slingshot while Detective Law pointed a high-power laser pointer to mimic a sniper. You had packed everything of value while others were fruitlessly interrogating the man you'd managed to capture. Explaining you planned to throw the place away with the end of the lease agreement happening the day after. Needless to say, it left everyone shocked for a couple days, with you stashing the "second-life kit" in your actual apartment.

Klaus

"L-Liebling," Klaus didn't like prying, nor did he want to tell you what to do... and yet, "Are you certain all that secrecy was necessary?"

Your raised eyebrow had Klaus doubting himself, "It's just that... You do know you can tell me when something feels off. I'd hate to hear second-hand that you were hurt or targetted or-"

"Klaus, it was never an issue of trust or feeling secure." You sighed, setting the teacup down on its saucer, "I just wanted to make sure I had a fail-safe for those... extra dangerous targets."

Scratching the back of his head, Klaus stopped mid-breath as you went on, "I mean, what are we supposed to do with targets like that? Risk taking them to HQ? Bring them here? Or to Steven's place? Or anyone else's for that matter? Having a place like that apartment in my back pocket just... it just..."

Klaus reached across the small garden table, gently squeezing your hand. He could tell you were at a breaking point, that explaining yourself and your feelings was still quite a difficult undertaking. But he also knew that simply reminding you it was okay to vent fully was the right thing to do. Klaus would always be there to listen, and to remind you it was all going to be okay.

"It just," You exhaled deeply, "It makes things just a bit easier for me to deal with knowing that I am prepared for every situation. Cause frankly, sometimes just carrying a f&^king tomahawk on my hip isn't enough."

You didn't want to admit to the bright pink rising on your cheeks as Klaus chuckled at your... non-joke. But for now, the matter was dropped. For now at least.

Steven

Finger's idly tapping on his mouse, Steven sighed. He had been mulling over that incident for the past two weeks. And none of it made much sense.

Sure, he could understand a few secrets here or there. A weapon stash, an arcane lock system. Even your preference for older 'junk' cars was perfectly normal to Steven. But a whole separate apartment? That felt like a little too much.

Unable to handle the weight of all these questions without answers, Steven picked up his phone. You mentioned needing to look for a new backup place, and he wasn't entirely sure about waiting for a face-to-face talk.

"Hello?"

"[Name], are you busy?"

"Not particularly, just signing paperwork. Why?"

"Can you talk?" Steven's eyes lowered from the monitor to the keyboard, "About the last place I mean."

"Not right now." That uneven tone meant you were trying to make this sound normal, civil. More secrets to blank-faced strangers who would never guess that the new neighbor was really a... "Could I call you back? Maybe an hour from now? Or I could just pop over for a visit if that's easier."

"An hour?" Steven's fingers drummed the desk impatiently, "Meet me at Broskette in an hour. We can get coffee before we get to my apartment."

"Oh, so you're still at work then?"

"Yeah. But there's not much left to do. Schedule's pretty clear and all."

"Alright, yeah. I'll see you then."

The talk over coffee hadn't gone nearly as smoothly as Steven had hoped. Resulting in quite the spat between the two of you, arguing over keeping secrets. Deep down, Steven knew he was just as bad, if not worse about keeping secrets. He couldn't truly have an open communication relationship, not when his secrets would get people hurt.

But you weren't backing down. It shouldn't matter how many secrets either of you kept, you would die on that hill. You couldn't help but feel like Steven was ignoring what you were saying. That you just wanted to be ready for situations like that, how it felt like he couldn't trust you to know what's good.

Storming out of his apartment with bitter tears clinging to your lashes was the worst feeling in the world. And as much as Steven instantly regretted letting you leave, he wasn't quite fast enough to catch you before you sped off. Tonight would need something a little stronger than wine to cope with himself. And tomorrow would come with a lot of explaining...

Leo

This whole thing was a little too much for Leo. He knew you were prepared for basically every situation, but for whatever reason, this felt like a step too far. But Leo couldn't put his finger on why.

Why did this bother him so much?

"Leo?" You nudged his arm from across the table, "Everything okay?"

"Huh?"

You tilted your head, "You're stuck in your own head again, aren't you?"

"It's just..." He scratched the side of his face, "The whole thing with the second apartment. The second life stuff."

"What does that matter? It's just a thing to fall back on."

That rubbed Leo just slightly the wrong way. He couldn't pin down why, but hearing you be so nonchalant was just a little too much.

"I mean, it's f&^ked sure. No one should really need a backup apartment. But then you get a job like this and..." You sipped your drink to avoid coughing, "Well, with a past of not being able to trust a whole lot of people. You can see why I didn't think to tell anyone. Even you."

That made things a little better, but Leo still didn't like how you could so easily dismiss it. This isn't exactly something he could forget about any time soon. Maybe this time it won't bug him so much, he already knows that you will have a second apartment. Maybe...

Zapp

"So, you and that other apartment... uh..." Zapp didn't know how to start this conversation, he wasn't the kind to talk. Especially not about this but, "Any other uh... things you wanna fess up to or...?"

"I don't have any other romantic partners if that's what you're asking." You were a little preoccupied with your game to really dive into this right now, "But I did find a decent little chuckle-f^ck neighborhood. Just gotta fill out the lease tomorrow and--"

"C*CK-S#^KING A$$ HOLE! MOVE OUT MY G*D D^MNED WAY SO HELP ME!"

Zapp leaned over your shoulder. For such a chill-looking game, it was full of fuzzy animals for f^cks sake, you always seemed to cuss at it like you were dying to a boss or something. Then again, if the same little f^cker was in Zapp's way and constantly talking... he could understand it at least.

"B^tch." You muttered under your breath, "Anyways, yeah. Everything'll be settled and sorted by tomorrow."

"M'kay, not exactly what I was getting at Steven 2.0."

"Then what?"

"What do you mean 'then what?'!" Zapp frowned, "You're basically domestic Rambo... or is it Metro Rambo?"

"I think the term you're looking for is prepared."

"It most certainly is NOT the word I'm looking for you walking armory! You're a mini Chief with Steven's disposition!"

You looked at Zapp, "If I didn't have that apartment, we wouldn't have gotten the answers we needed, right?"

"Well... I mean, I guess."

"So I'm not Rambo, I'm just prepared."

"Yeah right." Zapp scoffed, "You carry at least three blades on you at all times, even in the shower!"

"I do not!"

"You so do! I've seen them! You were pulling them out of your hair!"

"Those were bobby pins you demented orangutang."

Zapp was not about to back down from this. He knew you always had weapons on your person. This was going to be a long night...

Zed

It felt like Zed had brought this same topic up at least once a day, but he never was able to get a straight answer. As much as he didn't want to constantly pry, he did need some form of closure over this matter. In one day he went from believing he knew his partner to thinking they were a complete stranger again. It was the kind of mental whiplash that made his head hurt.

But he really didn't feel like he had much of a choice.

"[Name], I know you probably don't want to talk about this, but..." Zed sat up a little on his side of the couch, "You never have given me a decent answer about that apartment. Why you had it in the first place and why you feel you need another."

Letting out a deep sigh, "It isn't strictly to keep secrets or anything. I just... I feel better if I have something like in my back pocket, ya know?"

"No, I really don't. That's why I'm asking you." He shifted to face you a little better, "I don't understand what would drive a person to having a second apartment, even if does help with one's job."

You stopped. Normally Zed did get things like this, without the need for you to explain in detail. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing you liked fessing up to, since it would make it seem like you just didn't trust him. And that couldn't be further from the truth, you just never knew when the right time was to bring up a literal safe house to your partners.

But you couldn't very well keep stalling, Zed did deserve an answer at least... even if it was a difficult one.

"So, I've always struggled with being able to trust other people." YOu started, "And not knowing when to bring things up until it's absolutely necessary. That said..."

Zed's jaw hung limp. He wasn't expecting you to have that kind of a past. It had him feeling a little guilty about pushing so hard for answers. Then again, if he'd gone through the same kind of situation, he would likely want to be as prepared as you were at all times.

Suddenly your "obsession" with weapons made a whole lot more sense.

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #klaus von reinherz #steven starphase #zed o'brien #zapp renfro #leonardo watch #ask

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bre-meister · 2 years

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Why didn't you tell me before? Greens please

I'm going to go ahead and put this under the cut since there is some explicit language towards the end. Hope you like it!

As they stood there in the rain, Butch looking at the hurt look on Buttercup’s face, he knew he should have felt some sort of regret or sadness. Maybe even indifference. Indifference definitely would have been better than what he was actually feeling in that moment - anger. His blood felt as if it were about to start boiling beneath his skin. He was focusing all his energy on mitigating his twitch. It was a surefire way to tell the woman in font of him how he was feeling and that was the last thing Butch wanted to do. If Buttercup knew how he was really feeling then it would only escalate the situation. Despite the heat he felt settling into his bones he really did not want to fight tonight. As much as he loved her when they fought, they fought. Their relationship had always been very physical from the beginning even when they were still enemies. That sort of passion never really died down and as much as he loved to spar and go a few rounds with the fire cracker that was his girlfriend, sparring and fighting were two different things.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Her voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the sounds of the rain and the party still going on in the restaurant he’d just stormed out of.

“Because it’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it kind of is.”

“Ok, well then… “ Butch was finding himself at a loss for words. He didn’t really know how to explain it and his anger was rising every moment that pitying look stayed on her face. Butch knew she wasn’t doingit on purpose but he hated being pittied.

“I just - I knew you would react like this and make it a whole thing but it’s really not and quite frankly, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He turned to walk down the street towards his car. A bright green light flashed in his peripherals and suddenly Buttercup was blocking his path. Butch sighed and steadied himself. The life in Buttercup’s brow told him he hadn’t been successful in concealing his twitch this time. Damn sometimes he hated how well she knew him.

“Buttercup -”

“Butch, please just talk to me.” She reach foward to touch him and almost reflexsivly Butch grabbed her wrist stopping her just inches from his face.

“I don’t want to talk about it and I especially don’t want your pity. You’re looking at me like I'm some sort of hurt puppy and I'm not. I’m a big boy I can handle my own problems,” he said as he dropped her arm and pushed past her with a little more force than was necessary. He didn’t care though. He really did hate being pitied.

“Well you made it my problem when you made a scene in front of everyone I invited! After all I did for you!”

“Yeah, well no one asked you to!”

Another flash of green and the words hadn’t been all they way out his mouth before he was being shoved back. Butch stumbled, righting himself before he could fall. The slight pain in his chest from the unexpected impact fueled his anger and now he was close to seeing red.

“What the hell?”

“For such a big boy you really are acting like a child right now!” Buttercup sneered, her face twisted in her signature scowl. At least, Butch thought, the pity was gone.

“I don’t understand why this is so important to you! Why don’t you just go back to your little party and forget this ever happened. I bet everyone is waiting on you to cut the cake or whatever other dumb shit it is that you do.”

Fuck it, Butch thought, i’ll come back and get my car later. He changed directions again but just as his feet were lifting off the ground to fly anywhere but here, Buttercup essentially tackled him to the ground.

“What the hell!” They wrestled around for a short bit each trying to get the upper hand. If they weren’t soaked before they definitely were now. Butch could feel the mud soaking into his thin jacket and Buttersup essentially sat on top of him, using her weight to keep him down.

Butch’s vision litteraly went red. He was preparing to fire off an eye beam just to get her off of him when the unexpected happened.

“I’m sorry ok! I was just trying to do something nice for once, like a good girlfriend or whatever. How was I supposed to know you hate your birthday? Your brothers don’t. I thought everyone loved their birthday.”

Butch was taken abback. Buttercup rarely ever apologized. Her usual tactic even if she was wrong - which Butch was finding out more and more she rarley ever thought she was - was to double down and drag her feet even more.

Her hair was tousled from the struggle and she didn’t seem like the mud had spared her either but the look on her face only conveyed earnest sincerity. Butch did feel asahamed now. He shouldn’t have been mad and he really did know that. He’d never talked about his complicated feelings surrounding his birthday with anyone. She really couldn’t have known.

“Yeah well, Boomer never misses an excuse to party and as much as Brick might say otherwise, he secretly loves being the center of attention every now and again.”

“Like you don’t,” The joke fell flat between the two of them.

“Can you let me up now?”

“Only if you promise to actually talk to me and not run away.”

Butch sighed and rolled his eyes but he promised anyway. Buttercup got up and offered him her hand. He didn’t take it. As petty as it was he took a small victory in the look of annoyance that crossed over her face.

“So tell me why.”

“Damn, where to start. Maybe it’s the fact that I was birthed from a literal toilet or that it gets kind of confusing because I technically have two birthdays because, well you know, you literally blew me up!” Butch used his arms to mimick an explosion.

“I’m not apologizing for that again. You know why that had to happen and I know that’s not what's really bothering you.” Buttercup’s tone combined with her crossed arms was really getting across how unamused she was.

“I guess it must be the fact that I never had a real birthday party as a kid since everyone kinda hated us and my dad’s could never shake their obsession with you and your sisters! Or, I don’t know, the knowledge that Mojo and Him never really wanted us and still don’t. We were always just a fucking tool to them to get to you so excuse me if I don’t want to celebrate a day that just reminds me about how much of a failure and a shity, unwanted person I am from the very beginning!” Butch was breathing hard by the end of his rant. He doesn't know why he told her the truth and judging by the shocked look on her face he apparently neither did Buttercup.

“Whatever,’’ he mumbled, “I’m going home.” He turned again, this time resigning himself to just walk the several miles back in the rain. For some reason he felt like he deserved it.

“Butch.” He ignored her call. He should have known that wouldn’t stop her.

“Butch, stop. Look at me. Please.” Something about the way her voice trembled, how small she sounded - so unlike herself - made him comply.

As he turned around he couldn’t tell whether her face was wet from the rain or tears. But something in Butch told him that broken expression wasn’t pity. It was something far from it.

“I -” her voice failed. Instead of trying again she threw herself at him. This time not to tackle him but to hug him. The impact almost made him topple over but he wrapped his arms around her instinctively and they both stumbled a bit until they stopped moving all together.

They stayed like that for a while, her face tucked into his chest and holding on to him as if both their lives depended on it. Butch hated to admit that he was holding on just as desperately. It was Buttercup who finally broke the silence.

“I’m not sorry you were made in a fucking toilet. I’m not sorry I blew you up that one time or that you were resurrected or that we were enemies for a while. I am sorry that you had such an unfair childhood. Believe it or not, I know how it feels to be hated by everyone.”

“Yeah right, I don’t believe that. Who could ever hate a Powerpuff Girl?”

Buttercup’s responding scoff told him all he needed to know. That was a conversation for a different time though.

“You had a really shity start in life but everything brought you here. To me. To us. And I’m not sorry about that. I will never be sorry about that. Let me help you make better memories about your birthday. Forget about the past and let's just focus on our future together.”

Butch had seldom seen his girlfirend look so sincere, so… soft. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Even through the mud and rain he could still catch the scent of apples that always lingered on her hair from her shampoo. In the back of his mind he chalked it up to the one third puppy dog in him.

“I’d like that,” he whispered. To a normal human it would have been drowned out by the rain but Buttercup heard it just fine.

Their moment was rudely interrupted by one of his brothers sticking his head out the door to inform them everyone was waiting on them to finish so they could cut the cake. Butch sighed. Preparing himself to go back and face everyone he’d just raged in front of and get back on with the party.

“You guys go on without us,” Buttercup cut in to his surprise, “I think we’re going to go celebrate on our own”

“Ok…” Boomer said. He gave them a weird look but left them alone.

“You didn’t have to do that. Even if I was being a dick earlier I know how hard you worked to do this for me.”

“You’re right, you were being a dick,” they both chuckled a bit before Buttercup continued, “but I get it now. I was serious about making better memories but let's start small. Maybe a movie at your place, a cupcake or two if you’re feeling festive.”

“I love you.” he sighed, bringing his hands up to wipe the water off her face. His efforts were futile as it was still very much raining but the gesture was nice.

“I know.”

As Buttercup pulled him down into a kiss Butch couldn’t help but think that maybe he had birthdays all wrong. And that it also wouldn’t hurt if he started opening up a little more to this woman he was lucky enough to call his.

#ppg fanfic #ppg buttercup #ppg butch #ppg greens #my wiritng #dialogue prompts #at first I didn't know where this was going but I loved where it ended #butchercup

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commaclear · 10 months

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I'm curious about the whereabouts of engagement/wedding/promise rings in htid. Tbh I really wanna keep this short because I have four wip google docs open on my laptop and the last thing I need to do is write something that won't help me finish those, but that probablu won't work the way I want it to. Anyways

In htid there's four, maybe even five people who are part of this whole ring thing. The first one I wanna talk about is Sally, bc she's hot and traumatized and I feel like she'd throw a knife at my head if necessary. I know that technically she should have at least two rings, but I get the vibe she only has one and even then I doubt she got it in the traditional sense.

Sally only got married because she got pregnant, so I get the feeling that Fundy was the engagement ring. That being said, I feel like when you've got a relationship with two teenagers, there's a possibility that she has some cheap promise ring that Wilbur stole while they were at the mall together one day. He probably awkwardly presented it to her in the food court, and the memory is heavily skewed in Sally's head because she's over romanticized it in a sad attempt to stay in love with the man incapable of loving her.

I actually believe that she's done a lot of lying to herself for the sake of living in the safety of delulu land. I mean. I don't think. I know. It's very obvious. No one comes out of a relationship like that and still glorifies it without obscuring some details.

Anyways, Sally's probably got some long since oxodized shitty infinity ring sitting somewhere in a box. And then of course there's the formality of a wedding ring that I'm sure she did not get on the wedding day itself. It's probably not a lot, and she probably didn't receive it until well after Fundy's birth. Before their little courthouse marriage, Wilbur probably asked her if she wanted a ring, and she probably told him they needed to save money for the baby. Although, I'm sure she managed to convince herself she'd still get a ring as a surprise because Wilbur always was a bad listener. It was the small sliver of hope that was handcrafted to hurt by a little girl who dreamed of a grand white dress and a nice arrangement of diamonds.

I'm sure she eventually got a ring. And she'd probably taken how long it took a little personally, but she came around to the idea fairly quick. I feel like she still doesn't really take it off. Back then money was tight enough for the small little thing to mean the world to her, and even though she knows she could buy herself something way better now, the sentimental value is too much to even imagine removing it. She's probably been asked why she still wears it by plenty of people, Fundy and Jared included. And I'm sure she always takes extra care to remove it whenever Wilbur's around.

Now I'm pretty confident in saying Wilbur doesn't have anything more than a simple wedding band that he was very relieved to stop wearing. He's not quite sure where it is, and frankly, he's not trying to find it. He never really felt all that great wearing it. It felt more like an obligation than something he wore proudly. Quackity's probably seen it before, but he knows enough not to ask Wilbur about.

Wilbur honestly got some shit with rings and jewelry altogether. I feel like when he tried buying Sally's ring, the person working at the store seemed so judgmental and obnoxious that he shudders every time he sees a jewelry store. He also doesn't like that love is measured by how much of a diamond a man can afford. And he doesn't like walking around with expensive jewelry either.

That being said, I feel like Wilbur would be more than willing to face his fears if Quackity ever showed interest in anything from one of those stores. One of the main ways Wilbur communicates his love and affection, as well as how he tries to fix his guilt, is through gift giving. Wilbur doesn't really like himself, and he often assumes others don't like him either, so he attempts to make up for what he believes he lacks by spending whatever he can on them. And I'm sure that ties into his whole thing with being a foster kid and knowing how a single good gift can change how you perceive someone.

I feel like Quackity is pretty anti-ring after Karl broke off the engagement. He assumed it got lost in the car accident because Karl had probably taken it off, but he eventually finds it on his nightstand. It kinda puts the whole situation into a shitty place. Slime's probably asked Quackity about it a billion times, and Quackity eventually gets tired of it and puts it where Slime won't find it.

Wilbur's probably seen the ring before, and it made him feel incredibly shitty because something tells me the ring is rather flashy in comparison to anything Wilbur's even given or received. Wilbur kinda hates it because it's just another shitty reminder of how much Quackity must've loved Karl, and he'll never live up to it. It is also a representation of how much Karl was worth to Quackity, and Wilbur doesn't believe he has nearly enough to be deserving of something so extreme.

This whole thing is stupidly long and a mess, and I really need to go work on my own shit. But it's the best I could do

Also last ask you asked me why I have rusty scissors in my shower. And like. It's not like they were rusty in the beginning. I use them when I need to cut something. Sometimes you just need to switch things up, and rusty scissors are good at that. Ever stab a bottle of conditioner [Question mark] Ever cut a random piece of hair off[Question mark] That shit's refreshing. Also excuse the lack of question marks. I'll figure it out later. Turns out the question mark key is open. Shit's wild

-Quackity Analysis Anon

Ooooh, excellent question. I'm gonna run down this one at a time.

Wilbur: First, Wilbur had a chastity ring. He got it from his super conservative foster home and lost it as quickly as he could when Phil adopted him, but the memory of wearing it and what it stood for stuck with him for a long time. He and Sally did have wedding rings and a proper ceremony (before the Fundy was born), but everyone knew it was a shotgun wedding. Sally was very obviously pregnant at the time.

Sally: Sally did actually have an engagement ring, but Wilbur's experience of buying it was worse than you might think. As soon as her parents found out about the pregnancy, Sally's dad had a long talk with Wilbur about "doing the right thing" and then took him out to buy Sally an engagement, which he then paid for. It was humiliating for Wilbur, who gets a nauseating wave of anxiety whenever he goes inside a fancy jewelry store now. Unlike Wilbur, Sally still has her wedding ring, stored away in her jewelry box never to be worn, but never to be thrown away.

Quackity: He and Karl exchanged promise rings a few years ago, and for a long time after the cheap ring started oxidizing, Quackity wore it as a necklace. Once they got properly engaged, the promise ring necklace was moved to safe storage.

Karl: The doctors had to remove his engagement ring when he was hospitalized, and somewhere between hospital moves, it got lost. Karl was confused to wake up without it, and now it hurts to look at his left hand. He lost the promise ring a few years ago too while washing dishes, so now he has nothing.

The stuff you said abt Wilbur and Quackity's feelings toward rings is just so spot on actually, these men have Issues

#also that bit about wilbur and gift giving?#good soup. haha get it? but fr excellent analysis #anons my beloved #hi thirsty im dad #quackity analysis anon #all star asks #commaclear.tumblr.com/missingposter

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t1gerlilly · 9 months

Text

So I watched season one and season two back to back.

My general take on the writing was: meh. But that’s actually high praise from me, since I came to it as a Terry Pratchett fan who bought and loved the original book when it was first published.

I have so many friends who love Neil Gaman’s writing and have recommended it to me for decades. I’ve tried to read American Gods three times. The only thing I remember is the giant ball of yarn, which is the point I’ve given up every time. I did finish another of his books, but just…didn’t like it. Lovely descriptions, but just no characters I was interested in. I haven’t even managed to make it through the TV versions. I quit Sandman after twenty minutes, at the point that everyone that wasn’t an unpleasant white man was dead. I mean, honestly, I work in tech - if you swing a cat, you’ll hit a white guy who thinks he’s nearly supernatural . It’s too workaday to be entertaining.

So I’m pleased I managed to make it through Good Omens 2 with no complaints about the writing - though I dearly miss Terry’s trademark humor and whimsy.

The reason I’d call it ‘meh’ is probably the same reason I got through it at all. It seemed very much like standard ‘processing a breakup’ fic. The kind of thing you write and you think it’s about something else entirely and then in five years you come back to it and it was CLEARLY you working through your feelings about a breakup unconsciously. And there were real feelings there - which is why I stuck with it. Most of Neil’s writing is too cerebral for me - without the weight and heat of heart. But that’s also why it was just ‘meh’. It was the unexamined heart - a writer is never firing on all cylinders when their head and their heart are working at cross-purposes. It had that feel of stop and start, explosion and silence, that you feel when first learning to drive stick - the unpleasant impact of lack of control or finesse…everything is too raw.

It felt like someone writing about the death of an unconventional relationship. I didn’t mind the ending. There was truth and nuance there, however bitter. Though I’m sick to death of seeing queer love revealed and rejected in the same scene, in ambiguous terms that make it worthy only of hell and damnation, a violating sin revealed by necessity and pushed on an unwitting protagonist. That wasn’t necessary. It was wrong; a sadness.

I will say that it makes my enduring wish for Michael Sheen to record an audiobook of Dylan Thomas’s poetry rather intense. Because his performance was frankly mesmerizing. It was like live theater, when there are moments when you can feel the whole audience holding their breath. When it feels like the actor is holding the audience in their hands, because everyone is so focused and attuned to their voice, their expressions - to the moment. Just really, really amazing.

Einstein has a quote I love “You wouldn’t think it genius if you knew how much work went into it”. And I can’t help but wonder if he was perfectly cast for the role - charming, sweet-hearted chaos agent of a man that he is. Or if he simply is a master of his craft and just put in a tremendous amount of work. I tend to suspect a bit of both.

He just OWNED this role - gave it life and complexity.

David Tennant is a wonderful actor generally, but I’ve seen him do much better work. He seemed lost inside the role - disappearing into the costume and not quite hitting the emotional beats. Like a good singer on a bad night who’s just not quite hitting his notes the way he can. Still good, even amazing, but not the crowd stopper he can be. The one exception being his turn as Crowley as an angel at the beginning. That was just lovely.

Though if you were going to get lost inside a costume- WHAT a costume. Most of what I love about Crowley is his style. His ‘40s suits are sharp enough to cut.

So - nothing really to complain about - but I really hope they don’t leave it here, as it’s quite depressing if left as is.

#good omens #good omens 2 #this is just how I feel about it #doesn’t mean I’m right #feel free to disagree #and yes I’m a bit ambivalent #other than where Michael sheen is concerned because he’s a marvel #and the costume department is AMAZING

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freakynct · 3 years

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「 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 」

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 —

𝐰𝐚𝐫��𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: church boy!mark, exhibitionism, degradation, praising, fingering and masturbation

“you really had to wear such a short dress, y/n?” your mom said with an angry look to her face as she rubbed her hand through the dress, trying to fix it and pull it down.

“mom will you stop? it's not even that short.” you fought back, pushing her hand away from you with an annoyed grunt, rolling your eyes.

the sky was blue and clear but the air felt dry and intensely hot, burning on your legs and arms. luckily that was the last thing bothering you right now as you scanned through all the people waiting outside of the church, engaging in cheerful conversations and adorning big smiles on their faces. all but you. you had been waiting for approximately 10 minutes but you couldn’t seem to find mark anywhere. you even noticed some of the friends he normally hung around with talking next to the stairs but he wasn't anywhere near. you were starting to get disappointed since the only thing that made these masses interesting was mark. and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been extremely horny these past few days thinking about last time you were with him.

“y/n!” your mom called ahead of you. “you always got your head in the clouds, c’mon, the mass is starting.” you rolled your eyes and walked behind your family, dragging your feet until you were inside of the tall cold building where everyone was taking their seat. “you’re sitting with us today.” your mom spoke again, grabbing your arm but you were quick to set it free.

“no! i always sit with my friends.” you talked back, annoyance evident in your voice but your attitude was pushed back as soon as you saw your dad appear behind your mom.

“that’s exactly why. you always sit in the back and you spend the whole time talking and never pay any attention to what the pastor is saying.” his voice was low but stern and all you could do was cross your arms in disagreement and divert your gaze away from him. “so drop that attitude and don’t talk to your mother like that. now sit.” was the last thing he said before he sat down on the wooden bench but suddenly a familiar voice interrupted the heated family discussion.

“y/n can sit with me.” you almost froze at the voice right behind you, feeling his body dangerously close to yours. “i’ll make sure she pays attention and listens to everything my father says.”

you finally had the courage to look and face the boy standing behind you. his eyes that were once focused on your parents slowly looked at you and you noticed a small smile forming on his lips.

“oh lord, no.” your mom said, her expression completely changing and a nervous laugh falling from her lips. “that’s not necessary and we don’t want our daughter to cause you any trouble, mark” she patted his arm friendly but he just continued smiling at her.

“it won’t be any trouble at all, mrs. y/l/n. i insist.” you noticed you had been silent this whole time, quite frankly not even knowing what to do or say and you decided that was probably the best thing to do.

“well... if you insist then i guess there’s no problem. right y/d/n?” she turned to your dad for his opinion and he just nodded and smiled back at mark.

“sure. mark is a good kid and he’ll make sure she listens this time, won’t you son?” your dad said vividly.

“of course, sir. and i already know what sermon my father will give today so i can explain and help y/n if she doesn’t understand something.” you almost jumped when you felt mark’s hand on your lower back, and despite the simple touch, shivers went down your body all the way to your core.

“then go ahead, son. the mass is about to start.” was the last words your dad spoke before both your parents sat back down and mark pulled you with him by your waist.

he kept his hand firmly against your back and at this point none of you had spoken to each other yet and the silence was killing you. he brought you all the way to the back and to the last benches, away from everyone, and you finally set down as his dad took the stand in front of the church and the loud angelic music started echoing through the thick walls. you finally found the courage to look at him but his gaze was fixed on the ceremony, however you still noticed the slight smirk on his lips. you looked down at your hands that played nervously with the hem of your dress until your attention was brought back to mark.

“you’re not gonna say anything?” he spoke low, his eyes still not looking at you and although the temperature inside the church was cooler, you still felt your body burning inside.

“why did you wanna sit with me?” you whispered, focusing your gaze on the small little mole on his neck.

“you always make the most obvious questions, baby.” he chuckled and you felt your heart beating faster at the sound of the petname but you couldn’t help but look away embarrassed. it was obvious. you kept your eyes down and suddenly his hand appeared in front of you, a piece of white fabric sitting between his fingers and your eyes widened as you realized what that was. “you still want this?” you quickly looked at him and this time he was staring back at you, the smirk on his lips more prominent this time and you could tell he found this amusing. you tried to grab your panties from his hand but he was quicker to move them away, shoving them back inside the pocket of his jeans. “they’re mine now.” he licked his lips and gave you a cocky smile, staring back at you. “and i’ve been having a lot of fun with them.” you felt your cheeks burning and you were suddenly too shy to look at him. you heard him softly laughing to himself at your reaction and you couldn’t help but feel your core throbbing at the thought of mark using your panties to help him masturbate which only added more to your embarrassment.

you focused on the pastor but not on his words, you tried paying attention but all you could hear were mark’s words echoing inside your head. you almost jumped when you felt his hand being placed on the inside of your thigh, warm and soft.

“did you think about me too?” you felt goosebumps all over your body as mark whispered in your ear, so close that you could hear his breathing, a lot more steady than yours at this point. you felt his hand moving higher on your thigh. “did you touch yourself thinking about me?” his voice was raspy and his lips that were once close to your ear now moved lower to place a wet kiss on your neck and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at the feeling. “i know you did.” he placed another kiss on your cheek. “you’re a little slut and that’s what sluts do.” he whispered back in your ear and you clenched your thighs together in impulse, subsequently causing him to chuckle, his hand now squeezed between your legs.

“mark…” you whispered and it was obvious how weak your voice was compared to his, and you still couldn’t force yourself to look at him.

“shhh.” was all he said. “open your legs, baby.” he whispered and you looked around you first. everyone was still looking ahead, too focused on the mass to even notice anything going on between you two, the closest people to you sitting about 2 benches over.

you felt nervous with so many people around you but you couldn’t ignore the burning feeling between your legs any longer and something about this was exciting and new. you felt mark’s hand squeezing your thigh and that was your queue to slowly part your legs.

“open more.” he whispered again and you nervously looked at him but his smirk was gone and a more stern expression now took place in his face. “do it. now.” his voice was steady and strong although his words were only audible to you. you did as he said and you parted your legs even more, your dress coming up with it. “good girl.” it didn’t take long till his smirk was back on his lips, his hand moving slowly up your thigh and getting dangerously close to where you wanted him more. your eyes closed for a second as his fingers brushed over the fabric of your panties ever so slightly but it was enough to make you crave even more.

“please…” you begged quietly, your hand now holding his arm.

“please what?” he asked as his fingers brushed against the fabric one more time.

“please touch me.” you were starting to feel impatient, your fingers squeezing his bicep in frustration but he just laughed it off and you almost let a moan escape your lips as he started working circles on your clit through the fabric.

“i am touching you, princess.” he said back, his face still close to you, his breath warm against your ear.

“no.” you whined. “i want your fingers… inside me.” you whispered, your head falling on his shoulder as you kept your eyes shut, focusing on not moaning out from the pleasure but your breathing was starting to get heavy.

“right here? you want me to finger you in front of all these people, hm?” you didn’t need to look at him to know he had the cockiest smirk on his face right now. his finger pushed your panties aside and you almost whined as you felt him finally touching your skin, going back to drawing circles on your clit. “you’re so wet, baby. you wanna cum so bad, don’t you?”

you quickly nodded your head, whispering an almost inaudible “yes” as he started moving his fingers down your core and soon enough he was pushing two of his fingers inside you. you moaned against his shoulder and your thighs clenched around his hand which made him stop his movements.

“you have to be quiet. you don’t want people finding out how much of a slut you are, do you princess? or is that what you really want? people to see you cum around my fingers? hm?” even tho you shook your head no, mark could still feel you clenching around his fingers and that amused him. “look at me.” you slowly raised your head and your eyes stared back at him shyly, almost closing as he started moving his fingers inside you again, a gasp falling from your lips. “are you gonna be a good girl and keep quiet?” you nodded your head and your teeth sank into your bottom lip and this time you couldn’t look away from him, his brown eyes hypnotizing you somehow as his fingers picked up pace, and without even noticing your own hand went down to circle at your clit which caught even mark by surprise but he wasn’t disappointed. “fuck, you’re so hot.” he whispered and at this moment it was as if even mark lost control of things, his lips meeting yours in a passionate and messy kiss, causing you to let go of a quiet moan and it was as if that brought mark back to life again, his eyes scanning the room to see if anyone was looking.

“m-mark... i’m gonna c-cum.” he looked back at you again, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth and he moved his fingers faster, looking down and watching as you moved yours on your clit and he couldn’t ignore the pressure in his pants anymore, but that would have to be dealt with later.

soon enough you were throwing your head back on mark’s shoulder and he was quick to place his free hand over your mouth, preventing you from moaning out as you came around his fingers, your body squirming from the pleasure. when he saw that it was safe he removed both of his hands from you and you gasped for air, your head still resting on his shoulder and your eyes still closed. mark took a piece of paper from his pocket and cleaned his fingers. you were startled when you heard the loud bells of the church ringing and all the commotion from people getting up and picking up their stuff. you lifted your head from mark’s shoulder and quickly fixed your messy hair, panties and dress as you heard mark chuckling beside you. you noticed some people looking at both of you as they walked by but no one seemed to know what had happened. that didn’t prevent you from blushing though, as you realized what you had done in such a holy place. mark got up and so did you. your legs felt a bit weak but you had to pull through, especially as you saw your parents approach you.

“we’re not done yet.” was the last thing you heard from mark before he greeted your parents again.

“how did she do?” your dad laughed but mark’s expression seemed serious.

“actually i noticed y/n has some difficulties.” your eyes widened at what he was saying and you looked at him in surprise but he didn’t return the look, continuing the conversation with your parents that now looked really upset and really concerned which was never good for you. “don’t get me wrong, your daughter is a very nice girl but she struggles to understand some of the concepts and gets distracted easily.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. was he trying to get you in trouble or something? you were fuming inside and you were already preparing the speech you were gonna give him after all this, but the look your mom gave you made you more concerned about the one you were gonna get instead. “i was thinking that maybe i could have some bible study sessions with her. i already do it for some of the younger kids but i wouldn’t mind doing it with y/n, if that’s something you’re interested in.” it baffled you how polite he spoke in front of your parents when he had been calling you a slut just minutes before.

“mark that’s so nice of you, you’re such a good kid.” you rolled your eyes at the big smile your mom gave him. “but we don’t wanna bother you with our daughter.” you frowned as your mom gave you a disappointed look.

“not at all. it would be my pleasure to help her and it would make my father happy as well.” he gave them a warm smile that was quickly returned.

“if i had a son like you i would be very proud too.” your dad laughed, squeezing the back of mark’s neck in a playful way but the look of horror in his face almost made you burst out laughing.

“y/d/n, let the kid go.” your mom intervened, pulling your dad by his arm. “mark, how much would you want for the sessions?” she asked with a big smile on her face.

“oh nothing mrs. y/ln. i do it for free.” he replied but he was quickly interrupted by your dad.

“nonsense! we must pay you something.”

“it really isn’t necessary, i don’t charge any other parents for it. i’m simply doing it to spread knowledge and to help out.” you almost puked at so much politeness.

“why don’t you come over to lunch with us at our house today? you could start your lessons after.” your mom suggested and that was the first time mark looked at you, a smirk on his face as he saw the angry look on yours, turning back to your parents proud of what he had achieved.

“i would love to.”

#nct smut #nct mark smut #mark lee smut #mark lee drabbles #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #wayv imagines #mark imagines #mark headcanons

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

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1kook · 3 years

Text

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

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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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2jaeh · 3 years

Text

INSUFFERABLE l KIM DOYOUNG

GENRE: mature theme, slight smut

WARNINGS: choking, dom themes, cursing

asshole! Doyoung , enemies to ???

Words : 4k

You’re put in a group project with the most annoying pretentious jerk your law class had to offer. Immediately Doyoung tries to boss you around but you being you, you weren’t taking his shit...soon enough he finds out he can dominate you after all...in a very different way.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Theres no fucking way...no fucking way” you groaned looking at your group project list, eyes narrowing on possibly the worst people within your course year. Slumping in your seat you half smiled at the girl who approached you, one of your fellow members from project hell.

“Heyyy y/n I think we're in a group together” she grinned and took a seat next to you, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and checked herself out in her mirror covered cellphone.

Dami was probably the most narcissistic person you'd ever met and being in law, it was definitely a common trait around here. Dami sat up and began tapping you on your shoulder frantically “He’s in our group! Kim Doyoung is in our group” the two of you watched as the dark haired man conversed with the lecturer, casually turning back to look at the table where you guys sat, in annoyance.

“That guy is such a prick” a guy who slid in the desk behind you, Seungmin said and Dami nodded in agreeance as you all continued to watch him.

“Ive never really spoken to him before” you cocked your head, “What’s so annoying about him?”

This time another group member joined in, a quieter girl who normally sat in the back Jisoo, cleared her throat, “He is really bossy and only likes to do things his own way.”

‘Well he is about to meet his worst nightmare’ you thought knowing nothing pissed you off more than someone telling you what to do.

The muffled conversations around you began to soften as you felt someone stand over you and drop a file on your desk. Looking up, you locked eyes with the one and only Kim Doyoung, dressed in his usual black slacks, black turtleneck and clear rimmed spectacles. He raised his eyebrow at you as if you were supposed to guess what he wanted.

“What ?” you challenged him, folding your arms across your chest and returned an eyebrow raise.

Doyoung sighed in annoyance, his long slender fingers moved across the file and opened it swiftly, “I want you to do roll call” he said coldly.

A lump formed in your throat. You felt like you were being talked down to, it was something that infuriated the hell out of you. He wasn't older than you, nor was he getting better grades than you but somehow he had a superiority complex. Dami quickly nudged you and you rolled your eyes, “Seungmin ?”

“Here!”

“Jisoo ?” you placed a tick as you called out each name.

“Dami, Jangjun…?” you looked around and noticed that the usually loud comedic relief in your classroom was nowhere to be seen.

“I think Jangjun is late, i’ll text him” Seungmin sighed and pulled out his phone. You turned back to the roll call sheet and pursed your lips, “Kim Doyoung ?”

Doyoung just looked down at you, sucking in his bottom lip and raised that damn eyebrow at you again.

“You need to say ‘here’ do you not know how roll call works ?” you tested him and he rolled his eyes and sighed, “here.”

You smiled to yourself, completely satisfied with pissing him off when your internal celebration was interrupted by an out of breath Jangjun, who threw his bag on the floor and took a seat on Dami’s desk. Doyoung looked at him disgustingly, and even though you too were obviously annoyed by Jangjun’s tardiness, was that reaction really necessary ?

“Be on time” Doyoung sneered and grabbed the roll call file making his way back to the lecturer.

“Fuck Kim Doyoung is in this group ?” Jangjun groaned, sharing the sentiments of the entire meeting. You couldnt believe these were the people you had to work with for the week. It's like you could almost feel an outburst waiting to happen, whether it be from you or Kim Doyoung.

Doyoung returned and took out his phone, not really looking at any of you as he spoke, “we should make a group chat to update each other on work”

The group hastily shared each other's details and Doyoung created the chat and pinned a set of three rules.

The first was the group was strictly to be used for the project, no small talk or any other messages that weren't related to the project. The second rule was that no one talks about the group content in private chats as it will cause confusion among members. Lastly you weren't allowed to message after 9pm unless it was an emergency, a very serious emergency.

“Dang is this the military ?” Jangjun snickered as Seungmin and Dami tried their best to hide their laughs. It was typical of people like Dami and Jangjun to not take anything seriously. Their families were well off and they were just studying just for a piece of paper you call a degree. Doyoung couldn't even hide his annoyance, not like he ever did but he seemed particularly pissed off today.

“Look, just follow the rules and all of you get a free pass and then we never have to speak to each other again” Doyoung spat and made his way to the exit leaving the rest of you in utter shock.

———

The first two days were utter hell as Doyoung tried to take control of almost every aspect of the project and frankly you didn't even mind because his business proposal was flawless, it was just the way he spoke to all of you that drove you insane.

“Dami its not fucking rocket science all you need to do is make a clientele spreadsheet with the mock list the professor gave us” Doyoung didnt even lift his head from his laptop, unaware of the impact his words had on her.

Dami pushed away from the desk and her eyes began to well up and before you knew it she was running out of the library, with Jisoo and Seungmin following quickly out of concern.

“Nice move asshole” you rolled your eyes, continuing to work on your laptop.

Doyoung peered up and pushed his spectacles up, “what was that?”

“I said nice move asshole, do you intend to talk to your future clients like that?” He initiated a different kind of anger from you but you managed to keep your cool. Doyoung shrugged as if what he had said to Dami had not carried any weight and continued typing away.

A few minutes of the members disappearance quickly turned to an hour and Doyoung’s nonchalance about the whole ordeal really ticked you off to the point of slamming your laptop closed and pushed back from the desk.

Doyoung quirked his eyebrow at you, “Is something wrong ?”

“Is something wrong” you mimicked him, “Jangjun hasn't come in today because you sent him on multiple errands, and you just made Dami cry over something so ridiculous”

Doyoung sat back in his seat and rubbed his temples, “They're all freeloaders, you and I are the only ones doing work, why do you care so much about them?”

“Basic human fucking decency maybe?” you groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, “listen im not like them, i'm not gonna take shit from you”

“Sure”

“Youre a fucking asshole Kim Doyoung.”

—-

You lay in bed and replayed that scene with Doyoung in your head multiple times. He was so unbothered by your antics nor did he care about anyone's feelings within the group. He was cold, heartless all he thought about was himself. His cold expression was practically engraved in your head, spending all these hours with him was really not your favourite pastime.

Group 7 gc 7:00pm

KDY: I posted a schedule for tomorrow we will be working in pairs on the highlighted sections.

You took a look at his document and groaned when you saw your name placed next to his. There was no way, no way in hell you want to work with him one on one. Not caring about breaking his rule, you pulled up a private chat with him and began expressing your concerns.

y/n x KDY : 7:10pm

Y/N: Hi, there's no fucking way in hell am I working with you. Change It.

KDY: I said no private chats and no, I'm not changing it.

Y/N: Wouldn't it be better for us to split and have the others actually DO work for once ?

KDY: I barely gave them room for error, we're going to be the most anyway and besides, I'd prefer someone who can handle...my personality.

Y/N: …..so you agree..you are an asshole ?

KDY: I give people a reality check that's all..

Y/N: whatever makes you sleep at night...can I atleast choose our work venue because If I were stuck in a library again with you I might kill you.

KDY: haha..

KDY: sure.

Y/N: mango drop cafe, 10am.

KDY: cool, see you then.

‘Haha’. You had no idea why that text in particular riled you up. Did he find all of this amusing ? Was he making everyone's life a living hell because he enjoyed it ? You stared at his messages and somehow ended up on his profile picture. He was leaning against a railing dressed in all black with his hooded eyes concentrated on the camera lense, Your realization of how attractive he was came from the fact that you stared at the picture for a good 20 minutes. You wondered who took the picture, a girlfriend maybe ? You shook your head. He seemed too uptight to be getting laid. You sighed, closing your phone and awaited yet another day with the insufferable gorgeous man that was Kim Doyoung.

You arrived quite early at the cafe but of course Doyoung was here before you, already typing away at his laptop, in his usual attire. You greeted the barista and placed an order for a chilled cafe latte before making your way over to him.

“Hey” you said simply and took a seat opposite him in the booth. Doyoung’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice and made room for your books on the table.

“You're here early”

“You're already picking a fight with me?” you said casually setting up your workspace.

Doyoung chuckled under his breath and shook his head, “I just didn't expect you this early y/n it's not that serious.”

You ignored his words and got straight to work, not in the mood to play his little game. You felt Doyoung look at you a few times. You weren't sure if it were to check if youre doing the right thing or he was just looking at you.

“Well i'm done with my part” you stretched your arms above your head and yawned.

“Yeah I'm pretty much done too, Do you want another cup of coffee ?” Doyoung offered pointing to your empty cup. You were taken back by his softer demeanor but quickly nodded, “uh yeah sure.”

Doyoung returned carrying a tray of two fresh cups of coffee and a slice of cheesecake. Setting everything down he handed you the extra fork and placed the cheesecake in the middle of the table to make it easier to share.

“H-how much do I owe you ?” You fumbled in your bag for your wallet.

“It's okay, it's my treat” Doyoung replied, placing a piece of cheesecake in his mouth and slowly licking the fork clean. You gulped as his tongue darted out carefully licking the cream from the metal, not leaving any residue behind. You had no idea what the hell was going on but you felt hot, almost claustrophobic.

“You're okay?” Doyoung asked innocently, unaware of what he was doing to you.

“Why are you being...nice?” You questioned, knitting your eyebrows together as the man continued to act as if this was his usual behavior.

Doyoung pursed his lips and placed the fork on the plate, “You want me to be mean to you?”

“No I just don't get-”

“I apologized to Dami and she told me she only overreacted because the guy she likes, Seungmin was there” Doyoung explained and removed his spectacles, “she was embarrassed to ask anyone for help, I paired them up for today.”

“Wait wha-”

“Also Jangjun works at the campus radio” Doyoung continued, “I had only found out the day we all met, I gave him tasks that will allow him more flexibility, that way he doesn't have to join group sessions often.”

You blinked, unable to form any words in order to reply to Doyoung. Especially after he chuckled at your speechlessness, knowing you didn't bother getting his side of the story at first.

“You were right y/n I dont have to be an asshole all the time, I just like to get my work done” He shrugged. You kept eye contact with him but somehow it felt as if he were still toying with you, waiting on your next reaction. He seemed like he played this game often, making sure he always had the upper hand. Doyoung seemed relaxed as he stared at you, taking another scoop of the cheesecake and slowly ran his tongue over his lips after his bite. What the fuck was he doing ?

“Y/N ?” you heard a familiar voice come from the entrance of the cafe. Your attention diverted from Doyoung to the blonde haired boy who began approaching your table.

“Jungwoo ? oh my God what are you doing here ?” You stood up and pulled him into a tight hug and pecked his cheek. Doyoung shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched your exchange with the stranger.

“I got off early from class about to go to Subway, are you still doing that group project thing?” Jungwoo looked over at your table and half smiled at Doyoung who tried to distract himself with his phone.

“Uh yeah but i'm all done here I think, wanna hang out ?” you hooked arms with Jungwoo as he nodded enthusiastically. You turned around and scratched the back of your head,

“So...uh”

“Were all done you can go, I have somewhere to be anyway” Doyoung smiled as you slowly began packing up your things.

“Alright, see you tomorrow I guess” you bid your goodbye and headed out for lunch with Jungwoo.

—-

You had just finished up your skincare routine and caught up with a few instagram posts when you noticed Doyoung had followed you. Sitting up in bed you scrolled through his feed curiously. Every post was aesthetically pleasing and he looked absolutely hot in every single one of them. He had to have a girlfriend right ? No guy posts pictures this good without women flooding his DMs.

There was no harm in doing the same since he was in your class, you decided to return the follow and close the app. Suddenly your phone vibrated with a new message in your chats.

Y/N X KDY 10:30pm

KDY: hey

Y/N: aren't you breaking two of your rules right now ?

KDY: haha

KDY: I didn't realize what time it was…

Y/N: ….anyways..is this about work at least ?

KDY: kinda… you left one of your books at the cafe. I have it with me.

Y/N: oh… thank you.

KDY: no prob...oh I hope its not a problem I added you on ig

Y/N: no its okay we are friends I guess

KDY: haha I thought I was the insufferable asshole..

Y/N: you are...but not all the time. Look im sorry for saying shitty things about you.

KDY: its all good.

KDY: …….

Y/N: ..whats up?

You twirled your fingers as you watched the three dots from Doyoung pop up and disappear over and over again. What was taking him so long ?

KDY: that guy….that you met at the cafe..is he your boyfriend ?

Y/N: Jungwoo ? no way we've been friends since high school.

KDY: oh..

Y/N:....why would you even ask that ?

KDY: curious.

Y/N: curious about who I'm dating ??

KDY: A little.

You frowned at your phone and noticed Doyoung had changed his profile picture to a selfie. The picture was..something alright. You bit down on your lip as you enlarged the picture, which showed a wet haired Doyoung with his head resting in his palm and his long index finger was placed between his plump lips.

“Fuck y/n get yourself together” you gave yourself a pep talk before opening his chat back up again.

Y/N X KDY 10.54PM

Y/N: fine if you can ask a question can I ask one..

KDY: go ahead

Y/N: who do you keep thirst trapping for ?

KDY: ….haha thirst trapping ?

Y/N: Yeah who do keep posting these hot pics for huh

KDY: …..

KDY: You think i'm hot ?

Fuck. Why did you word it that way. You groaned immediately regretting sending that message but something in you was so curious about him you decided to just risk it, what was the worst that could happen ?

Y/N: well yeah, I mean I'm sure everyone thinks you're attractive, you seem to know it too.

KDY: wow.

KDY: I think you're hot too.

What the hell was going on. You felt your face heat up and you placed your pillow in between your legs as you turned on your side.

KDY: I was almost disappointed when I thought Jungwoo was your boyfriend, he's way too passive.

Y/N: ...and what makes you think you know what kind of man I need ?

KDY: hmmm

KDY: first of, with that fucking attitude of yours..A dominate one.

You swallowed hard as you felt a tingle in your stomach, squeezing your thighs together on the pillow to create more friction.

Y/N: I could say the same for you.

KDY: You may think youre dominate in many aspects...but when it comes to fucking..im the one in charge.

God you hated how hot that sounded. He had you in the palm of his hand through text. You were a mess and he wasn't even the room to fuel it. You wanted him so fucking bad it was insane.

Y/N: running your mouth doesn't equate to doing it you know...

KDY:.....

KDY: then would you like me to show you ?

Everything happened so damn fast. One minute you two were texting the next minute you were sharing your apartment location and Doyoung was on his way over. You scrambled to put on sexier underwear and do your hair, still in shock by the fact that Doyoung was on his way over to bang you.

You jumped when you heard the doorbell and realized it was him. Opening the door you were greeted to a very different look of Doyoung. His hair was messy and reached his eyes. Instead of his usual black academic attire he wore a loose white vest that showed off his toned chest and arms, along with a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hi” Doyoung smirked, his eyes were dark as he scanned your figure.

“Hi” you responded, leaning against the wall in the hallway and looked up at him. Doyoung slowly approached you, like a lion circling its prey. His slender fingers danced lightly along your body, drawing a line from your waist until he found your throat and wrapped his cold fingers around it. He bit down on his lip as he studied how perfectly his hand looked around it and squeezed gently, smirking after hearing a soft moan emit from you.

“I want you to do as I say, any back chat from you will get you punished you got that ?” he brought his lips down to your neck and exhaled.

You nodded in response but that wasn't good enough for Doyoung. You felt his squeeze on your throat once more and he used his hips to pin you against the wall, “use your words” he gritted his teeth.

“Yes sir” you replied obediently, and felt him smile against your neck.

“Good girl, and if i'm too rough let me know so I can stop okay ?” he replied, his voice changed and it was much sweeter and genuine than before. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek when you nodded and led you to the bed.

Doyoung lay you on the bed, already stripping off his shirt and ordered you to undress yourself and rid him off his sweatpants. You bit down on your lip taking notice of how aroused he was when you palmed his member.

Doyoung watched you through hooded eyes as you discarded his sweatpants and boxers. He softly patted your head and grabbed a tuft of your hair in order to make you look up at him.

“Spit” he ordered, and held out his hand and you did as you were told. You watched as he lathered himself with it, moaning as he stroked himself. He was so damn sexy, biting down on lip and slowly pleased himself as you watched.

“Do you want this inside you sweetheart ?” he cooed and placed a finger under chin.

You nodded quickly, “Yes please”

“What do you want me to do baby ?” He purred and hovered over you as you lay on the bed, breathing heavily as his fingers moved against your warm skin, tracing your curves, ghosting over your heat and returning back to your lips to insert a digit inside.

Doyoung watched diligently as you sucked on his finger like the good girl he knew you were. He finally pulled his finger out and with one swift movement entered with his member before you could even respond to his question. You moaned as he quickly slammed his hips into yours, wasting no time in gaining a rhythm as you marked his back with scratch marks feeling as though you were on a high.

Doyoung fucked you like a pro, wasting no time to switch positions and had you on all fours, slapping your ass before slamming into you again, that pretentious smirk forming on his face as he heard your whimpers asking him for more.

“Are you ready to cum sweetheart ?” he asked, pulling you up as his strokes became slower and tugged on your ear with his teeth.

“Y-yes yes i'm ready” you panted.

“What's the magic word ?” he growled as he grabbed your throat and slowed down his pace as you were nearing your climax.

“Fuck youre so annoying PLEASE, please let me cum Doyoung fuck”

Doyoung chuckled and picked up his pace until you finally climaxed and he followed shortly after, collapsing in the bed next to you.

“You have such an attitude God” he rolled his eyes playfully, bringing the blanket over your bodies and grinned when you moved in to cuddle him.

“I guess you will have to fix that some time” you yawned and wrapped your arm around his waist, “but I have to admit, maybe I do enjoy the insufferable Kim Doyoung bossing me around once in a while.”

#doyoung smut #nct doyoung smut #nct smut #nct127 smut #kim dongyoung #nct scenarios #NCT127 scenario #doyoung fic #doyoung au #kpop smut #nct drabble #nct angst #nct au #doyoung scenarios

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