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gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,”

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly.

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,”

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home.

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek.

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,”

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close.

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?”

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips—

RING. RING. RING.

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams.

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out.

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then.

Probably not. That would be far too lucky.

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed.

It was too much of a risk.

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs—

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you.

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky.

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now.

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other.

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking.

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream.

Perfect.

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,”

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?”

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?”

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?”

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here.

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy.

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began.

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?”

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?”

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—”

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive?

Fucking unfair.

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what?

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,”

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,”

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,”

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,”

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of.

“And I want us to do that—”

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?”

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over.

It didn’t.

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk.

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.”

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter?

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see.

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea, most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,”

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library.

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,”

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer.

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence.

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression.

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—”

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,”

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes.

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward.

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,” you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one.

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew.

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you calling me self absorbed?”

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,”

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped.

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears,

God he’s even pretty when he blushes.

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,”

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,”

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?”

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?”

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus.

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?”

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,”

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester.

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students.

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,”

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.”

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over.

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students.

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material.

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right?

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else.

Something you knew very well.

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you.

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?”

You blink, “how’d you know that?”

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds.

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,”

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?”

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,”

“What students?”

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,”

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium.

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly.

“No,” and he only smiles wider.

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,”

“I’m not—“

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,”

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again.

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,”

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,”

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started.

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you.

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since.

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing?

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you.

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best.

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was.

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester?

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst.

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross.

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,”

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand?

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,”

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?”

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you.

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?”

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,”

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning?

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for?

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks.

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,”

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery.

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly.

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions.

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide.

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you.

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms.

God, this wasn’t a dream was it?

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you.

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he—

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?”

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,”

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?”

Your blood runs cold. Fuck.

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity.

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?”

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?”

“Nothing,” you insist.

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him.

Nothing good ever came from your want.

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze.

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be.

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade, “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add.

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,”

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow.

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,”

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?”

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,”

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,”

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?”

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him.

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,”

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter.

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about.

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep).

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions.

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days.

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work.

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook.

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him.

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down.

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week.

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,”

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?”

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise.

So you make the decision for both of you.

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do. He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor.

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter.

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?”

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?”

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone.

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly.

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,”

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him.

But why did it hurt so goddamn much?

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.

Was it really not a big deal to him?

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two.

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.”

Just fine.

“There was a problem with your reservation,”

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed.

One. Bed.

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town.

“There is a couch though,” he offers, pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone.

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?”

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show?

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders.

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down.

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head.

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,”

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?”

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,”

“We’re both adults—“

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation.

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone.

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,”

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,”

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?”

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower.

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not).

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin.

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry.

Oh. My. God.

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door.

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him.

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek.

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground.

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open.

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,”

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,”

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it.

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face.

This was going to be a long weekend.

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see.

Fuck his life.

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor.

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once.

God, he sighed, it was such a mess.

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem.

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water.

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most.

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds.

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water. Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat.

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out.

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you.

It didn’t.

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep.

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in.

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he?

Not when it was you.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack.

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side.

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar.

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck.

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do.

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,”

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him.

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink.

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?”

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,”

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?”

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t.

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,”

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,”

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside.

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,”

“Professor—“

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.”

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,”

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,”

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs.

“Of him?”

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,”

“Not your type?” he asks.

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car.

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders.

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?”

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur.

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters.

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be—

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,”

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,”

“No—“

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,”

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,”

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,”

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same.

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep.

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it.

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it.

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop.

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight.

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep.

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight.

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely.

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title?

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he?

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman.

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair?

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut.

Just for a moment.

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you.

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor.

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect.

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine.

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet.

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow.

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you.

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto.

So much for sticking to your sides.

Fuck.

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard.

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with.

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with.

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him.

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM.

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM?

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs, jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed.

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s.

Fuck.

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart.

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him.

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning.

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist.

Fuck.

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now.

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away?

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?”

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down.

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats.

Could this possibly get worse?

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car.

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead.

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand.

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck.

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down.

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help.

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go.

But you didn’t know how to begin to.

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed.

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone.

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be.

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head.

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this?

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,”

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention.

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone.

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh.

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,”

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp.

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well.

And you realize how close you are to him.

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either.

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go.

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again.

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity.

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut.

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat.

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried.

RING. RING. RING.

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality.

The department head.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.”

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start.

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken.

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you.

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed.

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake.

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart.

Was this fate versus free will?

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart.

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto —

And so maybe he should let it.

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper.

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open.

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words.

Just as you always were it seemed.

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop?

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try.

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?”

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,”

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?”

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?”

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself.

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this.

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that.

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A.

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor.

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was.

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,”

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,”

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,”

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end?

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?”

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent.

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-”

“It was unspoken—”

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—”

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—”

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle.

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch.

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—”

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile.

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?”

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist.

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?”

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—”

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open.

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need.

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?”

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—”

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip.

RING. RING. RING.

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—”

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,”

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again.

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body.

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?”

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru x you #geto x you #geto fanfiction

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madelynraemunson · 1 month

Text

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older! eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson smut #older!eddie smut #dad’s best friend!eddie #dad’s best friend!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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sugarlywhispers · 6 months

Text

Katsuki is trying—FUCK, he really is fucking trying not to make a sound, but it's way more difficult than what people think.

And when he hears the door to the hallway open, he immediately reacts covering his bed and himself, bringing the covers almost to his naked chest. He grabs a book that is in his nightstand and he pretends to the best of his ability to be immerse in reading that stupid book.

Two knocks to the door of his room can be heard and he fakingly sighs in annoyance as he says, "come in".

The distinctive red hair of his roommate appears first before his face, "Everything alright, man?" Kirishima smiles.

Katsuki rolls his eyes in real annoyance this time before replying a simple yes. He feels a thick drop of nervous sweat rolling down behind his neck that he is very skilled to hide by simply scratching the back of his neck, but it seems Eijirou hasn't noticed yet. The blond is very proud to admit that he is good at hiding. Stuff. And emotions.

The red head nods before saying, "Hey, Y/N is coming over for dinner. I don't want to bother you, but do me a favor? Be sweet to her. She kinda has a crush on you."

Katsuki pulls up an eyebrow, looking as oblivious as he can, "Oh, really? I had no idea..."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at his best friend, "Of course you didn't. You of all people wouldn't know even if she confessed right at your face."

Katsuki doesn't answer back.

"Anyway, I'm going out to buy some groceries. Need something?"

"Nope," he answers, his attention back to the book he is actually not reading. Eijirou nods as he closes the door again and walks out.

Katsuki doesn't dare to move until he actually hears the front door of the apartment open and close. And that's when he can't avoid the snort that it's stuck at his throat, waiting for desperate release. Next to him, the covers finally move as you peak from under them, frowning in annoyance at him.

"Shut the fuck up," you protest, your hair tangled all around, cheeks cutely rosy and sweat obviously thanks to the thick covers. He can't help but laugh out loud. "It's not funny!"

You try hard not to laugh with him as you climb up, straddling his hips, your glorious naked body making him distracted from his previous amusement. He sits up too, big and strong arms surrounding your waist as you interlace your fingers with his hair at the back of head.

You both smile at each other, your nose caressing his cutely, and he feels like eating you up.

"So you have a crush on me, hmm?"

"Shut up," you say, hips beginning to move to create friction between your naked bodies as your lips find his again. Tongues fitting to gain control as his hands travel down to your ass to guide you in your movements.

A crush? Oh dear... if Eijirou only knew...

a.n; y/n and kirishima are best friends too. only katsuki and y/n are kinda(?) dating (?) fucking (?) fwb (?) lol idk 🙃

#lol this has been on my mind since i woke up #i had to take it off my system LOL #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha smut #mha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut

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yyokkki · 3 months

Text

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!

2K notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 10 months

Text

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

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Hi, I wanted to request something platonic with Percy, with him meeting his older half-sister after he finds out he's the son of Poseidon.

Sorry for my English, I'm using the translator to write, and sorry if you don't understand my request

Pictures On The Wall

Percy jackson x older!sister (platonic)

-£ this was the first thing that came to mind and it’s such a cute idea! thank you.

-£ words: 700

-£ warnings: short, nervous percy, cool reader, sassy and kinda grunge reader, siblings bonding, fluff.

the wall across from his bed was covered with many things. pictures of people he didn’t know along with a bed half made and clothes piled up. “that’s y/n’s” a name he never heard but yet was family. his half sister was somewhere on a quest and didn’t know that he was snooping round her things.

he looked at the pictures all the time, liking the smile you had. he knew that smile, a distinct memory in his mind but you wore it with pride. you looked so cool and by all the stories he heard you were one of the most awesome person at camp.

every cabin knew you, it was like he needed to fill some sort of shoe now that you walked in but he didn’t know the first thing.

“percy,” grover peaked into the cabin and looked around for his best friend, when he found him he looked nervous. “I think you should come.” percy jumped up at the sound of his voice that sounded like something horrible had happened.

percy walked along his friend while his heart raced, “what happened?” had another monster attacked the camp, what could have happened that he had to come.

“she’s back.” Grover muttered while sighing, “And we thought you should meet her.” oh,- oh gods. you were back so soon? he didn’t have a clue on what he would say or do. would you like him, would you hate him and somehow kick him out of the cabin? he’s never had a sibling before.

“she’s getting patched up and I’ll warn you,” Grover patted his shoulder with a kind smile, “she’s unpredictable at times.” Yeah, that makes me feel much better Percy thought.

as soon as the walked into the infirmary all they could hear was yelling and arguing making the young boys look at each other. they walked to the door and saw the girl on the bed glare at the other around her age.

he knew you. the picture he looked at every day you seemed to be exactly like that, but you didn’t look happy like all of them. the shirt you wore had rips in it and a bloody bandage wrapped around your arm. the redhead girl in front of you held a spoon up to your mouth but you kept fighter her off.

“I’m fine! It’s just a few scratches, I’m not a child!” it was ironic that you looked like a bratty child that wanted to stomp their feet. your lips pouted slightly. percy didn’t know what to think at the scene.

“take it. you’re just keeping yourself from leaving, so do it so I can leave!” the other girl seemed to knock some sense into you as you huffed and took the spoon in your mouth. if looks could kill then she would be on the ground by now, you looked so angry.

humming the redhead walked out of the door and looked at the boys before rolling her eyes and kept going down the hallway. you didn’t seemed to notice them as you started to take off the dirty bandages.

Grover was the first to speak, “excuse me,” you looked at him quickly but your eyes were now soft and no longer sharp. “Grover, come in!” you invited him over but your eyes soon fell on the boy next to him. and immediately the connection between the two of you went off in your head.

“you must be percy?”

he shifted closer and awkwardly not knowing want to do, “yeah. how do you know?”

“I received letters telling me of the idiot brother I seemed to have,” you chuckle and throw the dirty cloths in your hands on the bed. The cut was gone but dry blood still stayed on your skin, “you have dads eyes.” You pointed to your own.

“really?” he asked quietly as you hopped on the floor and stretched. “Oh yeah, less disappointment in them but I’ll give it time.”

you yawned and picked up the black jacket and your backpack, “I’m starving,” you stood between the two of them and then swung your arms around the two of them.

“Now, tell me what you did to Clarisse!” You smirk at the brother you just met, “my favorite sibling already.”

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #platonic percy jackson #platonic percy jackson x reader #platonic x reader #fluff #brother!percy jackson

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kooktrash · 10 months

Text

romantic dreams | jeon jungkook

summary: he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.

➣ genre/au: yandere jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], neighbors au, smut, angst

➣ 23.9k words

warnings: yandere. smut. jk is obsessed and a stalker. toxic. manipulation. gaslighting. he’s a gym rat who listens to deftones, nirvana, korn, pierce the veil, etc. he watches y/n through cameras. delusional jk. he’s intimidating and a huge asshole to everyone but y/n—like genuinely not a good person lol but he has nipple piercings and a six pack. goth jk. calvin klein jk. sort of mind break. dom/sub/switch themes but not intense. rough, passionate sëx. multiple rounds. oral [both recieving]. multiple orgasms. jk is kinda really unhinged at the end. he seems more stable than he is. everyone is so oblivious. unprotected smüt but also only for one round [they go for two]. idk lol he’s just a weird guy who likes black and Nirvana or some shit. y/n is cheated on in previous relationship he’s not dangerous I think

[ teaser ] [ video banner ]

[ drabble ] [smut]

[ drabble ]

[ smut drabble ]

[ birthday drabble ] [ smut ]

song inspo: tempest — deftones, and i love her — kurt cobain, blvd. nights — team sleep, new magic wand — tyler, the creator [highly recommend listening so you can get what kind of character Jungkook is]

jungkook’s moodboard | y/n’s moodboard

The music was loud yet you couldn’t make out a single word of it. The beat was strong but with the amount of people packed into the nightclub it seemed to blur out all other noise aside from their talk. You could barely see under the hues of green and blue lights shining down on the crowd and the room had a distinct smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke.

On your back was a firm hand that pushed you through the dancing crowds to get you to the bar and you let them take the lead without question. To your side was a friend of yours who flashed a smile, “Don’t worry, you’re going to get so drunk tonight that you forget about him.”

What she’s really saying is if you don’t want to feel then you better start sipping.

It was just 24 hours ago that you sat down in your living room listening to the guy you had been dating for months tell you that he cheated. He cried his eyes out telling you that it didn’t mean anything and that he would never do it again but it was too late. You didn’t shed a single tear until he was out of your house and that’s when you let the angry tears fall, mad that you were too blind to realize what a piece of shit he was.

Now you were in a little green dress feeling like a heartbroken bitch as you ordered two more drinks and tried to pretend like you’re having a good time when you’re not.

Taehyung watched you chug back another drink with a sigh, “But don’t drink too much, you’ll regret it.”

“I don’t care,” you slurred, tone already a bit off and woozy. Jiyoung combed your hair out of your face, “At least you’re still pretty, drunk or not.”

Not pretty enough if you got cheated on. You smiled as she cupped your face squeezing your cheeks, bloodshot eyes that she couldn’t even see under the changing lights.

“I’m gonna go find Hobi,” Taehyung said as he looked around the packed nightclub, “It’s going to take me forever.”

You nodded your head, “Go ahead, I’m gonna get another drink.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Jiyoung asked and you told her yes. She left with a small smile going with Taehyung to find your friend. Your smile slowly fell as you stood at the bar by yourself looking around at dancing pairs and kissing couples.

You took a deep breath trying to calm your racing heart, hands feeling the heat that radiates off your face and blinking hoping to fight off the burn you felt from not crying.

Once you had your drink you disappeared into the large crowd hoping to find the others.

He was fed up being here. He understands why his friends like to come out and drink but frankly he doesn’t care for their excuses to be able to pick up girls. Every single woman who approached him here are just so boring.

Sure, they’re nice to look at but that’s about it. Listening to their squeaky drunk voices and watching the way they try to dance on him is so tiring. He just wants them all to stop but they won’t and he knows it. He’s attractive, he’s somewhat tall, he’s covered in tattoos and he looks so unapproachable that it — for some reason — always attracts women to him. If he was interested in them then maybe he would feel different but most times he’s just bothered by them.

There might be a rare chance that he takes one home but that happens once every blue moon and even then he doesn’t care for their name or to stay with them the full night. He could live his life without wasting a single second flirting with some girl he met at the club.

His intention right now was to quietly sneak away from his friends while they hit on girls he was very unimpressed with and leave. It reeked of alcohol and he preferred not to get drunk and lose his senses tonight.

He was cutting through the crowd doing his best to avoid being pushed or touched but it didn’t seem to matter.

Goosebumps rose on his skin as he hissed at the sudden cold liquid that spilled onto his shoes and jeans. His face hardened as he smelled the stench of liquor and he immediately looked up annoyed to find the person who spilled their drink on him.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” you said in a somewhat shy voice. You looked from your empty cup to his wet pants and boots, “I—I didn’t mean to bump into you, there’s so many people here—fuck.”

His initial instinct was to chew you out, not caring for what or who you were, but then his eyes met yours and his anger immediately melted away. He couldn’t put his finger on why he was suddenly okay with a stranger spilling their Bloody Mary on his thousand dollar Gucci boots. He was too lost in your bloodshot eyes to say anything—until you dropped down to the floor with a hand on his boot acting like you could just wipe it away.

“Wait!” He nearly shouted as he held you by your arm and pulled you back up, “Don’t. It’s fine, the floor’s dirty.”

“No, please, I am so fucking sorry, oh my god,” you said, drunk out of your mind to fully pay attention to what happened. You looked up to him and you seemed to take a step back in surprise. He was an extremely good looking guy and you’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of him… yet he smiled sweetly instead of yell at you. Will you even remember this moment?

“I’ll just clean them, it’s alright, don’t even worry about it, okay?”

Not fully thinking clearly, you gasped as a sudden idea came to mind, “I’ll go get towels! I’ll um—j-just, y’know wait right here.”

He could hear it in your voice that you maybe drank too much. He looked around to see if a friend of yours might’ve been around watching but he found no one looking in this direction. You were practically running off and it would be a perfect chance to escape another drunk who threw themselves at him but he found himself going after you instead.

The hall toward the restrooms was poorly lit and people lined the walls waiting to go in but that didn’t stop him from cutting through so he could be close enough for you to find him. You were an interesting character.

He could feel some eyes on him but he ignored them easily, choosing instead to smile softly when you stumbled out of the restroom with a handful of paper towels. He reached a hand out to get them but once again you tried getting down to clean his shoes up yourself that it made him laugh lightly. He helped you back up with a hand on your back to keep you from swaying or getting down again—whichever comes first, “I got it.”

You stood back watching him clean his shoes and soak up some of the alcohol from his jeans. You debated if you should leave but when he looked up from his leant over position to see if you were still there, you stayed. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he smiled a genuine smile as he threw the paper towels away in the nearest bin, “Let’s get you another drink.”

“No, I’m done drinking for tonight,” you told him but you left out the part about you already feeling too numb for it, “I’ve already made a fool of myself.” You covered your face behind your hands and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of butterflies in his stomach.

“Don’t say that, it was cute,” he said confidently with a shrug of his shoulders, “Charming even… do you dance?”

“Huh?” You looked at him confused, “Uh, yeah.”

He smiled widely as he began to walk away from you, walking backwards to the dancing crowd, “Then make up spilling your drink on me with a dance?”

You bit your lip and narrowed your eyes as you studied him. You looked around as if in search for your friends but they were busy and you were heartbroken and drunk, and agreeing with a nod of your head. You took his outstretched hand and went with him.

“Where’d Y/n go?”

“Um,” Jiyoung looked around, “Good question, I thought she was getting another drink.”

“Well she’s not at the bar,” Hoseok said with a sigh, “Let’s look for her so we can get out of here finally.”

Your arms were around the stranger’s neck and his were wrapped around your waist keeping you pressed against him as you danced sensually together. You played with the ends of his hair as he looked down at you with an intense gaze, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” you said with a light gasp as his head dipped down to hear you better, making you whisper it into his ear. His eyes closed as he felt your face brush against his and he was turning his head slightly to bring his lips closer, “I’m Jungkook.”

You blame the alcohol and the fact that the guy smelled really good for your next actions. It didn’t help that you were still very upset about being cheated on and you weren’t thinking clearly, only looking to feel something else than what you felt right now. So, in your drunken state, you turned your head letting your lips brush against his testing the water out and as he held you tightly, he pressed a kiss to them.

Jungkook released a low moan into your mouth when you kissed him back in need and he found it hard to keep his hands from roaming down your body in your pretty forest green dress. Your tongue swiped along his lip ring making his hands grip the sheer fabric to make sure you didn’t back away before he was done. You were curious about the cold metal and kissed him with a bit of intensity that you seemed to forget where you were or who you were with.

In need of air, you pulled back with your hands slowly slipping away from his neck trying to process the fact that you kissed a stranger without a care in the world.

“Y/n! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You jumped back startled as you turned around in search for the feminine voice. You looked at Jiyoung who sighed, “We’re leaving, are you ready?”

It was hard to get a good view on Jungkook with how poor the lighting was and how dark his clothes were. He was biting his lip ring as he watched you get dragged away and before he could pull you back to him in hopes of getting your number, you were leaving like he wasn’t even there.

Like you forgot about him already.

There was a quickening pace to his heart. Sweat dripped down his forehead that he wiped away with his forearm as he looked at his friend through the mirrored wall. Just behind them he had a clear view of some woman looking at them. His friend noticed her too, “She’s had her eye on you for a while now.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything as he switched with Namjoon and laid down. Namjoon made sure to spot him as he began to bench press, muscles bulging with each set he did.

“I’m serious, man, and she’s hot,” Namjoon looked behind him to catch the girl running on the treadmill as her gaze shifted shyly at being caught. He was getting a little pissed that his friend does not care that he’s being eye fucked at the gym.

This was just like Jungkook too, he never showed any sight of interest in anything. He always had a bored expression on his face like he was waiting for something worth his while to happen. Namjoon’s learned to get over it because if Jungkook didn’t like hanging out with him then they wouldn’t be friends. Jungkook isn’t the type to waste his breath reassuring things like that and he definitely does not waste his time thinking of someone.

If Namjoon got half as many women checking him out as Jungkook does, he would find a girlfriend in no time—but no, he has to stand to his side and watch his friend pay absolutely no attention to any woman who expressed even the slightest hint of interest in him. Maybe he has to applaud Jungkook for this, he seems to have standards and sticks to them because in their years long friendship he’s only met one of his girlfriend’s before. He was extremely private about his sex life too so they never shared any locker room talk and Namjoon has just learned that’s how he is.

“Should we do one more?” Jungkook asked as he placed the dumbbell back into its holders and sat up panting. He looked behind him just slightly and caught sight of the bleached blond on the treadmill. She hasn’t taken her eyes off him since she got here and it’s really starting to piss him off.

“Sure,” Namjoon said, switching Jungkook, “I don’t get how you seem to just ignore every woman who looks at you.”

Jungkook looked down at him as Namjoon caught a good grip on the dumbbell, “I wouldn’t disrespect the person I’m seeing by entertaining someone else.”

Namjoon nearly dropped the dumbbell on himself as he jumped up to a sitting position and looked at his friend dumbfounded, “You’re seeing someone?”

That made the corners of Jungkook’s lips turn upward and he tried to bite back a smile, his dimples still showed. Namjoon was no longer sitting and it seemed like the end of their workout so he began to clean the equipment. Jungkook cleared his throat, “Sort of.”

Wordlessly, they began to leave toward the locker room and Jungkook walked right past the blond without sparing her a single glance. He smiled, “Y/n.”

“Huh?” Namjoon asked, “Is that who you’re sort of seeing?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook nodded with a smile that had Namjoon surprised. He very rarely sees this much emotion from Jungkook and compared to his usual cool exterior, this was a bit unsettling. The two went straight for their lockers as they took their gym bags out and got ready to leave. Namjoon cleared his throat, “Do you have a picture? I need a visual of who this person is.”

It was just so sudden after he had these thoughts of how Jungkook showed absolutely no interest in anyone and kept his sex life extremely private. Namjoon always thought it was just because he was a womanizer and didn’t feel like bragging about all the women he’s seeing. It is just surprising that all of a sudden Jungkook would show so much emotion bringing someone up.

Jungkook didn’t give him an answer aside from fishing his phone out of his pocket and immediately showing him his lock screen. Namjoon looked at the picture clearly.

“Wow,” Namjoon said with, “Now I see why you don’t bat an eye at anyone else.”

It was a good candid photo of you, like you didn’t even know it was being taken. You were sitting outside having dinner and it was a perfect snapshot of your smile. You were looking at something off camera but Namjoon did have to admit that you were very attractive.

He missed the way Jungkook’s eyes darkened the longer Namjoon looked at your picture and decided to lock his phone and put it away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said as he grabbed his car keys while Jungkook grabbed his and his helmet, “So why haven’t I met this Y/n, yet?”

Look, he knows that the two of you aren’t dating yet, he’s not that crazy, but it’ll happen soon and he has a very strong reason to back it. Jungkook wasn’t smiling anymore but Namjoon couldn’t see it as he walked behind him, “You know I like things kept private.”

“I mean yeah but… I don’t know, you’ve never brought her up before. When did you start seeing her?” Namjoon asked just trying to have a casual conversation with Jungkook before they split up.

“I said sort of.”

“What?”

“Earlier you asked me if I was seeing Y/n and I said sort of,” Jungkook said with a tightened smile, “No need to bring anyone around yet.”

Namjoon didn’t have a chance to say much after that, Jungkook got on his motorcycle and left with a little wave. This felt like news of the century, Jungkook very rarely smiles the way he smiled when he first brought you up.

Look, he knows that the two of you aren’t dating yet, he’s not that crazy, but it’ll happen soon and he has a very strong reason to back it.

Who were you exactly?

You took a deep breath as you unlocked your front door and walked into a pitch black apartment. The light flickered on behind you and a small cat curled around your legs the second you were inside.

“Armani!” Your friend said with a soft gasp as he bent down to pick up the feline. Your cat let Taehyung pick him up and walk him around your living room as you put your things away.

“Looks like your neighbor’s home,” Taehyung pointed out as he stood near the window of your apartment swatting away hanging plants. Armani hopped out of his arms and onto his scratching post where he usually lounged in for naps or ripping at your Tillandsia. “You think he watches you sleep?”

“Shut up,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, “Do you want a drink?”

“Water” Taehyung asked with a cheeky grin before looking back to the window, “And you know I’m joking… I’m just saying though, he always has his curtains drawn and sometimes I catch him looking over here.”

“All that’s telling me is that I need to stop inviting you over,” you said as you grabbed a bottle of Soju and a bowl of chips. You couldn’t help but look out your window.

Your neighbor was an attractive man. He had a sleeve of tattoos and a broad chest, a six pack and… nipple piercings. It’s not that you’re a creep or anything but he likes to lounge around his living room and bedroom without a shirt on and his curtains open. Sometimes he would step out of the shower with only a towel around his small waist as he looked for clothes in his bedroom and you would have to immediately close your curtains so you weren’t a peeping Tom.

He moved in a few weeks ago and since then you’ve found yourself battling over the fact that you’ll never attract a man as gorgeous as him no matter what Taehyung says. Since the beginning Taehyung has believed that your neighbor seems to have a liking toward you. If you were honest, when you first saw him there was something familiar there but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Your best friend is over at your place more often than not and he’s noticed some things. For instance, the day he moved in Taehyung was over and like the nosy neighbor you were, the two of you stared out the window and watched him unload boxes. Taehyung swears he saw a look in your neighbor’s eyes when he looked at you that immediately disappeared when he saw he was there too.

Then, there was that time when you were having dinner with your friends. Taehyung pointed out seeing your neighbor and how close he was sitting outside and you just brushed it off. He lives in your neighborhood now, that meant that he most likely frequented the same restaurants as you. He notes every time your neighbor seems to glance out the window toward your place but you don’t think anything of it. These apartments have poor lighting and the only way you get natural light is by having the windows open. In truth, Taehyung has watched way too many true crime documentaries and has gotten a bit paranoid.

“Whatever,” Taehyung sighed, “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt you to give him a little show and see if you’ll get laid.”

That only seemed to annoy you a little more. You’ve been single for weeks now and yes, you’re over being upset but that doesn’t mean you want to jump right out and find someone new to bone. Jiyoung has already done a good job reminding you about the guy she found you making out with weeks ago.

It’s sad to say you can’t remember him because you were drunk and maybe he forgot all about you too. Shame, he was a good kisser.

It only took you a couple days to see the man up close. You had just gotten home from work when you spotted an Amazon box outside the door of your building. Your original plan was to just walk past it but then you thought about the act of karma. You read the address hoping to at least put it inside the building but it wasn’t the right one. You lived in an apartment complex with six separate buildings and this was supposed to go next door.

You thought about leaving it outside like the delivery driver did but then you thought about it being your package and if someone were to take it. In the end you decided to head next door and deliver to the person’s doorstep.

The one thing you hadn’t expected was for the said person to open the door just as you’re setting the box down, and you much less expected it to be your window neighbor.

Your eyes couldn’t help but trail along his figure from the black jeans he wore to the black boots, belt, and a dark gray Nirvana shirt. You didn’t fail to notice the way his t-shirt was a little too short and exposed a bit of his Calvin Klein’s and a line of his tiny waist for your viewing. Thick leather bracelets on his wrists as he crossed his arms over his chest. Even his hair was voluminous and a bit curly and you were very attracted to the sight of this stranger.

Rock music played behind him as he leaned against his doorframe.

He looked down at you with an arched brow that had you snapping out of your stare. You stood back up with the box and held it toward him, “This was delivered to the building next door and I didn’t want someone to take it.”

“Oh,” he said as he looked down at the box, the corner of his lips turned up shifting his gaze back to you. You could see a black lip ring and a few silver ones aligning his ear. Up close you’re able to see all the details you’ve missed from your window and he really did look familiar. He finally took the box out of your hands, fingers over yours and he broke out into a smile, “You live next door.”

It wasn’t a question, more so a statement but you nodded away. You looked around, “I do.”

“I’ve seen you before,” he said, “You’re on the third floor?”

What Jungkook really wanted to say was that he remembered your lips against his kissing him like you needed him. He didn’t say that though, he can tell you might not remember him and he doesn’t blame you. You seemed to be a little flustered that night and he’s sure he’ll help you remember him when the time’s right. You’re meant for each other after all.

He realized that the second he moved in—it was all by pure chance and yet it felt like the universe was telling him you were his person. Why else would things work out this way? Once he found you looking down at him from your window, he knew it was meant to be. You made his heart race at a time where he had just felt annoyed and then you kissed him so warmly, there’s no way you two weren’t supposed to find each other.

“Yeah, I’ve been living there for over a year,” you said, already taking a step back like you were ready to go.

He smiled, “I just moved in a couple weeks ago.”

You nodded, “Oh, that’s nice. I'm Y/n L/n.”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten. He knew the two of you haven’t interacted since then but he had really hoped you would have recognized him up close. He understands that it was a while ago and you were both drunk but he remembers everything about you. He still tried to smile even if he felt annoyed that you couldn’t remember a single thing about him, “Jungkook.”

You watched the way his gaze never left yours as you tried walking away, before you could go he said, “Well thanks for bringing this up to me Y/n, maybe I’ll see you around?”

In your eyes, you both knew of each other but it was simply for being neighbors and nothing more. There’s been too many times where your eyes have met from 40 feet off the ground through your windows. There’s no way you wouldn’t at least remember each other’s silhouette.

Yet you couldn’t remember the first time you two met for the life of you. As far as you knew, this is the first time you’ve ever seen him this close and you can’t understand why you’re getting flustered.

“Have a good night, Jungkook,” You finally nodded your head in response to his words and with a small smile you made your leave. Jungkook watched you until you disappeared into the elevator. His heart was racing, he clutched the box tightly as a smile came to his face.

A light chuckle left his lips as he went into the apartment, setting the box down on his dining table. He just can’t believe his plan worked. He timed your arrivals for days and when he knew you would be getting home soon he left his most recent package in front of your building. To be Frank, he thought it was stupid to assume you would think anything about it but he had hoped maybe you would confuse it with one you ordered. He had prayed that you would see it was his and maybe get a little curious of the name but you did even better than he imagined. You delivered it to him. After an hour of pacing back and forth in his living room he finally heard his ring camera notify him that someone was at his door and that’s when his heart started to race.

He opens the door to see you up close for the first time ever. He wasn’t watching you from his window or following you to the convenience store. He was actually seeing you face to face and you looked prettier than you did the night he met you. That’s the time he fell in love, it was truly love at first sight and he knows that you must’ve felt it too. You were so cute and caring and clumsy, and you kissed him like you never wanted to pull away.

If only you knew the horrible pain he felt after you left him that night. All he could say is his friends definitely didn’t like the side of him that was shown following that day. He tried finding you on social media but with only your first name that had been so hard. When he saw you from your window he knew right away it was you and he swears he’s never felt so relieved to know he was seeing you again. Once again, the universe was sending signs of his soulmate.

It didn’t take him long to try and find a way to know more about you after moving in. He spent days studying the apartment floor plans and by the fourth day he was following someone into your building and looking at the map picture on his phone, smiling because they were identical. He learned that because your apartments faced each other that it could help him find exactly what number you had and when he found it, he went straight to the mailing room. He found your apartment number and right there taped on the metal was your full name.

He can’t believe that his patience seemed to have worked. You came right to him and he got to hear your pretty voice up close again. He smiled lovingly at the memory of your first kiss and how many more are to come, nose scrunching up like a bunny’s as he finally began to tear into his package.

In the pocket of his black jeans his phone began to ring and he took it out to answer without sparing a single glance at the caller as he pressed it between his ear and shoulder, “Hello?”

“Kook, hey man, what are you doing right now?” Namjoon asked through the cell phone as his Uber came to a stop at a red light.

“Just at home,” Jungkook mumbled, not fully listening to his friend as he looked at the small security camera in his hand. His eyes moved to skim the instructions while Namjoon spoke up again.

“I’m meeting up with Yoongi for some drinks and I wanted to know if you wanted to join us,” Namjoon said before with a smile.

“Uh, yeah, I’m busy right now,” Jungkook said with dazed eyes that made it obvious that he was drifting off into his own world as he made his way through his closet to find some sort of adhesive tape. He even sounded like he was in a different reality.

Namjoon’s smile grew wider, “With your girl?”

Jungkook opened his bedroom window and reached for his potted plant to move it out of his way. It took him a while to utter out a response, “Sort of?” He stuck the black camera against the side of his black window box and put the potted plants back inside it so he could see what it looked like.

“I mean you can bring her along,” Namjoon said as his Uber stopped in front of the bar and he began to get out.

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered under his breath as he concentrated on opening the app connected to the camera and typing in whatever he needed to to be able to access the footage.

“Alright call me later if you’re up for it.”

Jungkook barely hummed a goodbye as Namjoon hung up and finally got off speaker. He wasn’t paying attention anyways.

He has two options now that his friend has called him with plans tonight.

One: He can go out and get drunk with his friends, probably go to some night club and suffer through some ugly drunk woman throwing herself at him while he pretends to be interested in anything she says.

Or.

Two: He can stay home tonight, dim the lights, play Tempest by Deftones and watch video footage of your bedroom that he now had thanks to the package you delivered to him.

He just has to go with option two.

You were ashamed to admit that you think you might have a little crush on your neighbor. He just felt so familiar. Nothing about him looked inviting, he seemed aloof and a bit mysterious but he pulled it off so well—and with that charming smile of his… you’ve never seen a girl over at his place but you’re sure there’s dozens waiting for a chance with him.

Taehyung is the one to blame for this technically. Since the beginning he’s gotten it through your head that your neighbor must at least be curious about you to always look at you through the windows. You know that it could seem a bit creepy to know that but were you any better when you glance over and see him shirtless through his window? It’s starting to really get to your head and the fact that he was very attractive made it hard for you to not get a little giddy just thinking about him being interested in you in the slightest. You’re sure that’s not the case but it wouldn’t hurt to dream.

Also, you think the world is playing a sick joke on you or why else would he be standing in an aisle over in the same convenience store as you? The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon is to blame, now that you’ve seen him up close it’s like you’re seeing him everywhere in the neighborhood.

Jungkook was the first to make a move, he closed the space between you as he headed down your aisle while you pretended to be stuck choosing between different snack foods. He couldn’t help but smile at the way your eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, “Y/n?”

“Jungkook,” you greeted him as your eyes met.

“I thought it was you,” Jungkook said with a gentle smile as he switched the hand that was holding his shopping basket while looking down at yours, “Doing some grocery shopping?”

“Kind of,” you mumbled, “I’m just buying a few things until I have time to shop this week, what about you?”

“Same,” Jungkook said as he looked at you, “Have any plans? It’s the weekend.”

“I don’t know, I’ll probably just be home until plans come calling,” you said with a soft laugh that made his heart beat a little faster. He’s never heard your laugh before and he needs to hear it again.

“Well, can I come calling tonight?” Jungkook asked confidently, “Let’s get a drink later.”

“Tonight?” You asked, making your way to the checkout line with him hot on your trail.

Listen, you are attracted to this stranger but you’re not so sure there’s more to it than just that. Sure, you think he’s attractive and were just feeling giddy over him thinking the same about you but…. you don’t know. You just got out of a relationship a few weeks ago and you thought some time to yourself would be nice, yet you keep seeing this guy everywhere like some sort of destiny prank and it’s getting to your head. This is your problem, you tell yourself you want to enjoy being single but then you make up all these crazy excuses so that you could find yourself the next guy.

“Alright,” you finally said, walking toward the check out line. He smiled widely now, “Perfect, I’ll drive.”

“What time?” You asked, tucking your hair behind your ear as the cashier began to scan your items.

“I’m not sure yet, how about I text you?” Jungkook asked getting his phone out. You didn’t think much of it as you gave him your number and he immediately called you to confirm but he smiled, “Now you have mine too. Want me to drive you home?”

“I have one more stop after here but thank you, I’ll see you tonight?” you told him shyly. You left after paying and with a goodbye.

Jungkook’s smile instantly dropped when he could no longer see you through the windows of the store. He barely made out the voice of the cashier telling him his total and he threw a crumpled up bill on the counter, ignoring her outstretched hand, and took his bags, turning to leave without his change or receipt.

He bumped into someone hard as he left the store but he never once stopped and headed straight down the street in the direction you left.

In the end Jungkook walked back to his work like he hadn’t been gone for nearly an hour. When he checked the camera earlier he saw you getting dressed to leave—and like the gentleman he was, he didn’t stare too long. Of course he couldn’t help but watch just a little bit and see the way you seemed to caress your legs as you slid on a long fitted black skirt covering your bare hips and lacy underwear. It made his heart race when you took your shirt off and he knew that it was time he stopped watching at least for a little. You grabbed your bag off the hook, filled your cat’s bowl and headed out.

He’s been studying up on your usual departures. You don’t really go anywhere new, it’s usually a cycle of work, home, the store, and to meet your friends. Considering the time he had chosen and the area in which the two of you lived, all he had to do was wait around and see if he could find you walking somewhere on the sidewalk. When he finally did spot you walking toward the convenience store around the corner he practically ran right over.

Clearly he’s made all the right decisions to get to ask you on a date tonight. He won’t watch you this evening, he’ll give you some privacy to dress pretty for him like he’s sure you’ll do and it’ll just be a nice surprise.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: how does 8pm sound? —jungkook

you: sounds good :)

jungkook: alright, I’ll wait outside for you

When you got home, you immediately got ready with a shower. You know it wasn’t a date or anything but he was attractive and you would be going out so there’s no way you could go dressed the way you were.

You finally had your curtains closed after beating yourself up for forgetting to do that before you left to the store and immediately thought about Taehyung getting you in trouble for it.

And apparently just the thought of your friend was enough to summon him to call you.

“Hello?” You answered the FaceTime call, noting that there was a third person present.

“Hello baby!” Hoseok shouted over enthusiastically as he gushed at you through the screen, “I’ve missed you.”

“Hi Hobi, are you back?” You asked as you set the phone up against the mirror while you touched up on your appearance.

“He just got back and we want to get drunk, so are you coming over or what?” Taehyung asked as his eyes squinted, best friend senses tingling, “Where are you going?”

“Um… you know, I have plans,” you said awkwardly making him look you up and down and what you wore.

“With who?”

“Uh…” you scratched the back of your neck, “A guy?”

“You’re cheating on me, you bitch?” Hoseok jokes, making you crack a smile. Hoseok was older but he was the funny one and for years now there’s been a running joke between you two. He huffed, “You’re not supposed to date. We’re supposed to get married when we turn 30.”

“First of all, you’re damn near 30 already,” you rolled your eyes, “And our agreement was if we weren’t engaged by then we would get married.”

“Stop changing the subject. Who’s the guy?” Taehyung asked with a small smirk that told you he already had an idea. You just had to tell him about your run in with the neighbor the other day. You didn’t say anything because he already knew.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Go enjoy your black eyeliner boyfriend and we’ll get drunk on our own.”

“Who are we talking about?”

Jungkook was not ashamed to admit he had been waiting for you since he got home. He did hurry and get dressed but he had been ready early on. When you texted him telling him you were coming down he nearly jumped out of his car to greet you and he felt an insane amount of butterflies in his stomach. You were dressed simply but at the same time it was clear to him that you put in the effort all for him. Your skirt hugged your curves perfectly and your shirt gave him a good idea of what was underneath—even if he’s practically seen you nude through the windows. You reminded him of spring and it wasn’t just because of the earthy tones you wore.

“You look lovely,” Jungkook said as he placed a hand on your lower back assisting you into the passenger’s side of his black Porsche. You blushed at his words and took in the scent of his car. It smelled of his cologne but it wasn’t overbearing like most colognes, it was familiar. It’s soft yet masculine and exactly what you pictured he would use.

When he started the car up, a familiar song began to play, Something In the Way by Nirvana played lowly so it wasn’t overwhelming for your ears. You smiled, “You must like this kind of music a lot. I always see you in band tees”

He smiled but his eyes drifted down to his hands that clutched the steering wheel tightly so they wouldn’t shake with anxiety, “I do, it’s perfect for the gym.”

Jungkook was very pleased to know you took note of his interests, it meant that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you. He can list off a lot of things he’s learned about you throughout the week. Just from your socials he can tell where you’ve vacationed, cafes you frequent at, your favorite books or movies, etc.

From watching you through your windows he knows that you read a book on the window seat in your bedroom. You like to keep your green plants in the living room and your cat tends to pull off some leaves before running off when he sees you. He knows you can barely cook—he’s seen you running to turn off the fire alarm after you tried cooking. He knows that when you’re alone in your bedroom at night you like to listen to music loud and dance in front of the mirror when you think no one’s watching. He’s even seen you fight your cat over him eating another one of your plants. He knows all of this thanks to his cameras. He can keep his curtains closed to not raise suspicion but that doesn’t mean he can’t see you.

He thinks it’s kind of cute how oblivious you are, it works in his favor even now.

You knew he worked out just by looking at him but for the sake of conversation you asked, “How often do you work out?”

“Twice.”

“A week?”

“A day,” Jungkook looked at you for a split second, “Once in the morning and then usually after work too.”

“Fuck, that’s a lot,” you laughed softly, “I can see why you’re so toned.”

Jungkook bit his lip playing with his lip ring, “Nice to know you’ve noticed, but how? You’ve never seen me without a shirt, have you?”

He knows you have, he’s very purposely walked around shirtless for your viewing specifically. You released a nervous chuckle, “I mean… just from what I can see.”

“Mm,” he hummed as he tried and failed to bite back a smile. He just couldn’t help it. You’re in his car on the way to a date with him. He’s been dreaming about this night after all, imagining what it would be like to wake up next to you with you in his arms. He’s dreamt about the way you laugh at his jokes, how your shampoo smells, what you look like fresh out the shower. It feels like all he does is think about you and he knows it’s because he’s found the one he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with. Ever since that first night at the club he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Was that normal?

He knows he shouldn’t put cameras up to spy on you or follow you around but he just wants to know where you’re going. He doesn’t want something to happen to you and he has no way of knowing. If he could just know your every step he’s sure that’ll make him feel more at ease.

When he finally parked and the two of you got out of the car you could see where he brought you. You had expected it to be some loud night club or something but it was actually a seemingly quiet lounge bar. There weren’t that many people here and the ones that were seemed to come from money and the dim lights with quiet soft rock music playing in the background told you this wasn’t his first time here. It was an intimate environment filled with quiet conversations and sneaky touches. You found a high round table and with Jungkook’s help, you got on the high stool and watched him pull his chair closer to yours—so close his thigh bumped into yours on occasion.

“What would you like to drink?” Jungkook asked with a hand on your thigh as if to get your attention. He seemed to fit into the environment better than you did. He switched out his normal band tee for a plain black fitted tee that quite literally hugged the ridges of his muscles, even with the dark color you could make out the shape of his bar nipple piercings. The shirt was tucked into a pair of blacks jeans with a leather belt that matched his signature leather bracelets that were on his wrists. The only things different were the silver chained bracelets and chunky rings that fit well with his tatted fingers and matched the silver chains around his neck and piercings in his ears. He had an intricate silver cross with small red jewels on a necklace and his hair had a slick look that made the waves and curls look wet.

He was quite literally breathtaking and unlike the guys you usually went for.

“Surprise me,” you said and he nodded leaving you alone with a pat on your thigh. In order to not look awkward by yourself, you checked your phone, half tempted to pull out your essential oils and roll on some lavender.

Some rock song played quietly in the background as people talked around you enjoying the dark and warm atmospheric of the lounge bar.

hobi: how’s the mystery gang

you: the who?

jiyoung: don’t ever call us that shit again

taehyung: look who finally came out of the trenches

you: jiyounggggggg I missed u

jiyoung: y/nnnn I love u

jiyoung: are u coming to Tae’s?

hobi: y/n’s got a date with some stalker

you: WHO TOLD U THAT

taehyung: me and i was kidding

jiyoung: no u weren’t

hobi: no u weren’t

you: whatever. I gotta go

jiyoung: I hope u get laid

you: why is everyone saying that

taehyung: bc u need it <3

you: scatter. all of u

Jungkook came back with a cocktail for you and when he sat down his chair inched just a little closer to yours as he said, “So…Y/n…”

“So… Jungkook…” you said back to him and he swore he could hear his name fall from your lips for the rest of his life. He smiled, “Tell me about yourself, what do you do for a living?”

You own a shop that just opened up a year ago, what you mostly sell are house plants and sometimes you take Armani with to bring customers in with his Prince-like features—that’s what a review on your business page said anyway.

“I own a plant shop, you?” You asked shifting in your seat a bit when his thigh pressed against yours. With the way you were sitting facing each other, your legs were practically trapped between his. He licked his lips, “I’ll give you a hint.”

You nodded waiting and finally he pointed to the smiley face on his fingers. Your brows scrunched together in concentration and he thought it was the cutest thing in the world making him scrunch his nose like a bunny with a smile and it completely betrayed his dark exterior. You bit your lip, “Tattoos?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as the hand with the tattoos found its way down to your thigh again, it looked huge on you and he held you like you would get up and run away from him, “So tell me.”

You lifted a brow waiting and he smiled, “What kind of flowers do you get a girl that knows so much about them?”

You released a sigh in thought. He clearly meant you and if he didn’t this would be embarrassing but you said, “Personally I think Baby’s Breath. It could mean a lot of different things from undying love to pureness and freedom. It’s simple yet pretty.”

He nodded seriously like he was really thinking about what you said, “Not a rose?” He had to figure out exactly what you like and dislike.

“Too cliché,” you joked with a little laugh and he smiled, “I mean, Baby’s Breath are common too but I still think they’re better.”

“I thought you would think they’re romantic,” Jungkook said, thumb now softly caressing the side of your thigh. You shook your head no, “Maybe but I like the unexpected a little more.”

“Unexpected how?” He asked looking down at his hand and your leg curiously. He needs to know absolutely everything he can about you. Every second he spends with you the more he realizes he’s found the one. There’s no other way to describe what he’s felt for you since he first ever laid eyes on you.

You sighed, your index finger began to absentmindedly trace the rings on his fingers while he touched your thigh with the same hand, “I don’t know, I’m just tired of the same shit in relationships, y’know what I mean? I want something new, exciting… maybe a little intense? I don’t know, ignore me I might just sound crazy.”

You were speaking out of your ass and you knew it. Sure, you are sick and tired of the same assholes thinking they can just do whatever they want with you but you’re not in search of nothing new right now. You don’t want a relationship at this moment, you just want to have fun, maybe hook up with someone and move on.

“You don’t,” Jungkook breathed out as he leaned just a little closer, taking a small whiff of your shampoo. You were actually a little surprised by his growing proximity but you’re beginning to realize just how attracted you might be to him after just one meeting. In a low whisper he sighed, “I want the same thing.”

Your eyes widened slightly as he dropped his head down so his forehead was against your collarbone and though usually you would be immediately turned off by a man this forward, his touch felt good.

“Looks like you’ve dressed up for me Jungkook, I’m used to seeing you in some black tee,” you said in hopes of easing some of this growing sexual tension but it was no use. Jungkook’s other hand had made its way into your hair making you look at him. He smiled, “Didn’t know you were paying that much attention to me. How do you know how I dress on the regular?”

Yikes.

“Uh, you know… our windows actually—“ he cut you off with a soft laugh.

“Y/n, I’ve got a confession.”

You looked at him with furrowed brows, confusion and curiosity evident on your face. His eyes never left yours as he bit his lip nervously, “We’ve met before.”

Jungkook studied your expression to see if maybe you were remembering a little but you just stared at him blankly, “Before I moved in next door, we met at a club.”

A club? You asked yourself trying to find something in him that you might’ve missed and when it hit you your face flushed with embarrassment. You looked at him longer, pieces of your memory slowly coming back together and he sat there patiently.

You had been drunk, probably the drunkest you had been in a while.

You were mad and sad, maybe a little numb too.

You could barely see inside that place and couldn’t remember most of your conversations. You only knew that you had kissed someone because Jiyoung told you but to know it was Jungkook? Now that’s a huge coincidence.

“Wow,” you said at a loss for words. The memory was coming back to you but you felt insanely guilty for not realizing it earlier. No wonder he stared at you all the time, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Jungkook released a light laugh, “Because I was hoping you would remember on your own, we did kiss after all.”

You covered your face with your hand in embarrassment, “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even… wow, I knew you looked familiar.”

He smiled warmly, “It’s alright.”

“What a coincidence, honestly.”

“I know,” Jungkook said, “Funny isn’t it? It’s like the universe keeps throwing us together.”

You laughed at that, “I don’t really believe in destiny but it is pretty interesting that all of a sudden we keep running into each other.”

His smile dropped and the hand he had in your hair became limp, “Y/n, how could you not believe in destiny? How do you think you’ll find your soulmate?”

“Soulmate?” You scoffed, unaware of the way his hands slowly withdrew from you, “Jungkook, don’t tell me you honestly believe in that soulmate bullshit? Do you think there’s just one person in this whole wide world destined for you only?”

“I do.”

“But how do you know who that person is?” You asked, switching places with him and combing your fingers through his hair which did seem to ease him a bit. His eyes were stone cold as he looked into yours, “You just know.”

“Well I don’t believe that,” you cleared your throat and looked away. The night has gone great but you don’t care much for this conversation. It didn’t take you long to notice the way he grew quiet and stared off like he was in his own world. You must’ve said something that upset him and in fear that you were already fucking up a seemingly good night out with your anti romantic antics, you curled a hand around his jaw and made him look up at you.

Jungkook was very visibly upset and you never knew a man could look so hurt over what you just said. He looked like a child who has just had his dreams crushed despite all the tattoos and piercings he wore. You smiled softly, “What do I have to say to get you to kiss me?”

You were being forward and a clear flirt and if Jungkook wasn’t so upset with you he would have probably melted in his seat but all he could think about is how often you’ve asked that to someone. He couldn’t get past what you said because it was a lie.

Soulmates did exist and he has to prove it to you that you’re his. Why else would his skin grow numb with your touch?

He gave up on telling himself he wasn’t happy right now and leaned closer again. Under the dim lights and music playing in the background it was hard not to feel this way in this atmosphere so he let his lips brush against yours while still debating. He had to be gentle.

Finally, without much debate, he pressed his lips against yours with a low whimper as you kissed him back. Jungkook’s nails dug into your thigh but not enough to hurt and with your hand on his jaw the two of you looked a bit too sexually charged for the lounge bar. It didn’t stop you from letting your tongue meet his as he took ownership of your mouth and nearly yanked your chair closer. Your hands landed on his chest for support but he only kissed you harder this time.

A sudden noise at your table made you jump back, biting his lip softly and it only made him groan in pleasure, chasing after your lips as you attempted to draw back. Your eyes opened watching the hostess carried your empty glasses away and you know she did that to make sure the two of you kept it PG and with a sense of embarrassment, you pulled away. Jungkook didn’t catch on or care as he began to kiss along your jaw if he couldn’t kiss your lips. Your mouth fell open when he nipped on your earlobe and you shyly glanced around the lounge praying nobody was watching.

“Jungkook,” you patted his shoulder to get him to move back but he only kissed further down, nearly at your exposed cleavage. Feeling flustered, you yanked at his hair in hopes that would get him to listen and it did but there was no denying that lust filled gaze in his eyes as he tugged his lip piercing between his teeth.

He’s nearly forgotten how fucking rude you were to him and his beliefs.

“Hm,” he hummed, searching your face for any sign that you wanted him to kiss you again.

“I think we should watch what we do in public,” you whispered shyly.

He licked his lips, “Should we get out of here then?”

You took yourself by surprise when you nodded your head despite knowing exactly what he meant by that. You wouldn’t usually do anything—not even a kiss—on the first meeting but right now you can’t deny that he seems to be hungry for you and though you don’t know why, you want him anyway.

It was all it took for him to grab you by the hand and help you off the high chair.

In the car you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, just trying to get Jungkook to drive off already was difficult with the way the two of you made out in his tinted car. He was half tempted to direct you over his lap and just do it in the car but that was just him being impatient. He needed to feel and see all of you, so with a low displeased grunt he pulled back ignoring the line of drool that connected your lips together as you drew back. Jungkook’s mouth was swollen and covered in lip gloss that he licked off as he started his car.

Just before taking off he made sure to lean across the middle console for one last kiss.

Now that you’ve kissed him you’re ashamed to admit how clear you remember the night of the club now. He really was the same guy and it’s shitty to say you only remember now that he’s told you.

Jungkook drove the familiar route to your shared apartment complex but instead of going to building five, he went to building six where his apartment was. He led you up an identical pair of stairs to an identical elevator and up an identical floor. He hurried to unlock his door looking behind him as if to make sure you were still around and as the door opened a large, skinny black dog came running over. Jungkook shushed him gently, flashing you a shy smile that you’ve never seen before, “I have to take him out real quick, down the hall to the right is my room.”

You nodded in understanding as you watched him leave with the dog and you followed directions. You were just a little tipsy but not like the first night you kissed. You could still see things clearly and you were very aware that you were about to have sex with a guy on the first date. A guy you lived across from at that—one you drunkenly kissed without knowing it. This was a new you and something you’ve never done but it didn’t stop you from looking around his bedroom finding it fitting.

He had a large king sized bed pushed against the black wall of band posters and Vinyls. His bedsheets were black silk and his headboard was a deep red velvet. Aside from the posters he had black and white sketches of various dark things from moths to skulls and even a few dead roses. He had a couple weights laying around and it was overall a clean and tidy room just a little darker than you expected. Even the large mirror he had over his headboard had a black wooden frame with engravings of vines and flowers on it. It was huge too and you could see the entire room from that angle. The room was dimly lit too with the light switch only turning on two lamps in the corners of the room and it gave it a warm and dark feel. To be honest… his bedroom was as hot as he was, just imagining the things he could do to you in these silk sheets was enough for you to clench your thighs shut.

In the background some music started playing from a different room letting you know Jungkook was back.

Mascara by Deftones played in the back as Jungkook returned to you, standing behind you in the mirror and you watched as his tattooed arm came around your waist to the front of your stomach while he pressed you into his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You smiled shyly as he began to leave soft kisses along your neck, his ringed fingers coming up to push your hair out of his way and you felt your breath hitch when his teeth nipped at your earlobe. Turning your head to face him, you pressed your lips against his and he met you with an open mouth kiss letting the hand on your stomach slip under your fitted forest green long sleeve top, it must be your favorite color, he realized. You had chosen to go brakes underneath and he noticed right away but like a gentleman he forced himself not to stare. Now he’s free to feel up your soft stomach and bunch up the shirt to feel your breasts in his hands.

He was quite literally feeling you up for your own viewing with the way the two of you stood in front of the window. Your breath hitched when his cold fingertips brushed along your exposed nipples, teasing you as you made out out and you felt your body slowly turning to mush in his hands. You wore this black silky skirt with velvet black flowers on and it was short but flowy so it gave his other hand easy access to the expanse of your thighs and you felt like you were being manhandled in the most gentle way.

His tattooed hand disappeared under your skirt and you felt his teasing touch along your thighs but avoiding the space between your legs as his other hand punched your nipple making you whine into his mouth. This was all a bit bizarre but you could hear your friends now cheering you on for getting laid by the hot guy next door.

You blame the fact that you haven’t had sex in a while by how aroused you were and how easy it was for him to push you forward until you were crawling onto his silk sheets ready to turn on your back but you couldn’t. Jungkook pushed you face down onto his bed and he crawled over you kissing your neck as he grabbed at the hem of your skirt and pulled it down. He had already pulled your shirt up to reveal your breasts and now he was yanking your underwear down too until he threw it along with the skirt on the floor. You gasped as he maneuvered your body to his liking, tits pressed against the sheets while lifting your hips so your bare butt was in the air.

Jungkook was trying to take his time but you just looked so ready for his touch too and all the little whimpers in surprise by the way he held you was too much for him to remain calm. He had so much he wanted to do to you.

His fingers trembled as he ran them along your naked backside and spine, kissing whatever he touched until finally he was kissing your lower back, hands finally finding your hips and dropping down to the space between your legs. You had to clench the silk in your hands to keep yourself from squirming in anticipation, unable to help yourself from gasping, “Jungkook.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips had him greedily diving forward letting his tongue out and licking the first swipe along your folds catching you by surprise. With a low growl in frustration, he pinched your hips and dragged them back until he was able to fully press his face into your wet heat that had his eyes rolling back knowing he’s the one who’s made you like this in such a short time.

The last Deftones song ended and a new one began but it went completely unnoticed by the two of you as he began to let his eagerness show with the way he ate you out from behind.

He wanted to be buried in your perfect cunt until he could barely breathe. If he ran out of breath, if he fucking suffocated, he would die a happy man knowing he’s found the one meant for him and that he’s able to pleasure you to the point where your thighs already began to shake. You dug your face into the bed to hide your moans and he only took that as a challenge to make you be louder to the point where you can’t hide it.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned softly unable to hold yourself back.You were so fucking wet. Your slick was all over his chin and his nose as he found your clit with ease. You were moaning loudly now, grinding into his face with enough force to make him dizzy. His nails were digging into your soft thighs, not once bothering to pull away for air. . Anyone nearby could listen to the feral sound he was able to rouse from his mouth despite being buried in that sweet, sweet cunt, he did not care. He was going to make you beg for him harder.

"Fuck," your head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the sheets as if you could get a look at him from the back, "Please," he heard you whisper, desperation spilling from your tone. Breathless moans and a few choice curse words followed before he felt you become restless, close to orgasm and trying to push him away before the pleasure became overwhelming. Even if this was his first time with you, he knew how bad you wanted it so he didn’t move back, choosing instead to lap at your slick folds feeling your walls try and tighten around his tongue, "Yes, fuck, right there, baby. Don't stop."

The term of endearment was enough to make him moan into your pussy but he won’t stop. Not until his cock was buried tightly between your walls feeling you come undone around him like he'd been craving for since he met you. Alternating between sucking on your clit and quickly lapping his tongue against it, Jungkook could feel your body begin to tremble and it only made his hold on your hips tighten to keep you in place. Your hips began to turn into his face failing miserably and getting him off and instead of saying to stop, you said, “S-so close.”.

His tongue lapped at your folds creating a squelching sound, your hips rutting against his face. He sucked on your clit, tongue hitting the tip with each swivel as the hand on your hip was suddenly pinching. A low growl vibrated between your walls as he ate you from behind and your eyes burned with the need to keep them open, your hand hit the bed feeling yourself become restless and before you could say anything your walls were breaking. Jungkook never once slowed down, licking and sucking away your release as your legs shook and gave out yet he held your hips up to his face until he was satisfied.

Jungkook tried easing you down from your first orgasm of the night and when he finally sat back all he could see as he looked down was your pretty body facing down on his bed where you belonged. He licked his lips, hand barely grazing over his hardened member which still stayed confined in his black jeans and with a soft caress over your butt he whispered, “Give me a second, baby.”

You barely nodded, unable to move as he left the bed in search of his master bathroom. He began to rummage through his drawers praying to the universe that he had just one condom. It had been so long since he last had sex and though he would love to feel all of you during your first time, he also knew he had to be safe. He was too worked up right now to remind himself to pull out so he had to find some sort of protection. He created so much noise in his hurry and when he found one he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

When he came back out to his bedroom you had rid yourself of your shirt from being overheated but you still laid face down trying to keep cool. He smiled warmly as he pulled at the neckline of his long sleeve till it was off his head and checked it to the ground leaving his chains on. Next to come off was his black belt that hit the floor with a heavy thud along with his black jeans and white Calvin Kleins. He tore into the package of the condom rolling it on swiftly as he slowly stroked himself to the sight of you, unable to stop his tattooed hand from running along his own abs to his nipples where the piercings had turned them sensitive. He pressed a knee to the bed, cock in hand as he lined himself behind you, not pushing in but angling your hips how he wanted them and let his dick thrust between your fold teasingly. You released a surprised whimper that had him smiling and he found himself lying over you just enough but not hard enough to crush you.

With his free hand he brushes your hair off your back and shoulder, moving it to one side so he can see your pretty face, “You ready, baby?” It was his turn to call you that and it sounded so perfect falling from his gorgeous lips. You nodded your head shyly, hips already withering with the way his cock teased your entrance but never went in.

He smiled lovingly, “Words, love.”

“Yes,” you moaned as his tip began to press into your opening, “Fuck, need you inside.”

Jungkook bit his piercing as he nodded, pulling back just enough to guide his cock into your wet pussy. You both released a silent moan as he began to stretch you open with his thick dick. His tattooed arm came to your lower back for support as he stopped himself from thrusting all the way in but he couldn’t take it. He needed you to feel all of him, so he pressed a little more, other hand holding up your hips to fuck you from behind. When you finally began to fuck yourself on his cock, he knew you were ready and with the same hand he had on your back, he wrapped it around your waist until he was pulling up your seemingly limp body to his chest.

"Want me to do all the work while you just lay there, huh baby?" His hand slid between your breasts to grab at your throat forcing your jaw to stay open making you moan.

You shook your head no as you arched your back off of him so you could fuck yourself on his cock but with the arm loosely around your throat it was hard to move more. His brows scrunched together in pleasure when your wetness created such a soft glide into your warm pussy that he couldn’t help but sneak his other hand down your front too and touch your clit. Your head lolled to the side as he began to leave harsh love bites on your neck and through dazed eyes you found your gaze shifting back to the black mirror that hung over his headboard and when he found where your attention had gone to, he looked at himself too.

It was erotic the way the two of you fucked in his black and red room with sultry rock music playing in the background and your slutty body being pinched at by his rough hands while he impaled you with his cock. You haven’t even had a chance to fully devour the sight of his body, he was so focused on eating you out and getting right to fucking you.

But you loved it. You loved having his hand around your throat. You loved the rough pace he was setting. You loved the animalistic way he'd dropped down to his knees and ate you out like your pussy was his last meal. You loved the way this stranger who wasn’t much of a stranger fucked you roughly yet so gentle and loving, making you feel so good. You were close again and he was too. His free hand flew down to your pubic bone pushing you back onto his cock until he was buried to the hilt and kept himself there breathing heavily. His eyes squeezed shut feeling you shake with a loud moan that he had to cover your mouth with his other hand to block. He turned your face over by your jaw smashing his lips onto yours feeling your body tremble with release that he had to giggle.

You came so easily each time and he was nowhere near done with you even as your body became mush in his hands. Jungkook found himself struggling to breathe as your walls tightened around him feeling your release dribble down his cock to his balls and with a quiet grunt, he came in the condom hugging you to his chest as you both fell onto the bed with him on top of you.

When he was able to catch his breath better he took the condom off and collapsed down at your side, staring up at the ceiling and you finally had a chance to see him in all his naked glory. The piercings he wore on his nipples were silver barbells and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his chest rose and fell with every shaky breath he released. Your eyes trailed down his body toward his dick which rested against his stomach still hard. Jungkook could feel you watching him, he took your hand in his, bringing it toward his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Unable to help yourself you pulled yourself up, a leg thrown over his thigh and you kissed him. Jungkook’s breath hitched as he moved his mouth against yours, feeling your tongue swipe over his lip ring tugging on it softly.

You placed a palm on his chest, fingertip just millimeters away from his right nipple and you touched the bar. He brought a hand around your neck keeping you in place to make out while feeling your finger do right circles around his bud, moving the bar gently. Jungkook couldn’t do anything about the way his dick hardened once more, thrilled to know you wanted to keep going.

He’s had sex many times yet nothing has ever felt as good as what you two just did and if you want to do it again then that means you feel the same. You need him just as bad.

A low groan left his lips as you attempted to pull away and he only let you when you very lightly tugged on the metal bar, you kissed down his neck and collarbone. Jungkook licked his swollen red lips as he stared blankly at the ceiling trying not to get too eager but he really did not want to cum so quickly again. Your lips wrapped around his left nipple immediately drawing out a moan from him when your tongues licked over the cold metal. He took a hold of your free hand and couldn’t help but bring it down to his hard cock.

"Fuck," he groaned when your hand tightened around his fist forcing the grip on his cock to squeeze in an upward stroke, he was fucking himself with your hand as you sucked and tugged on his nipples. He licked his dry lips, "I want to fuck you so bad."

He received no response but that didn’t stop him from letting out any noise he wanted to, almost louder than the rock music outside. He licked his lips, biting back a groan as you left a sloppy open mouth kisses against his skin, tongue soothing any sting your teeth left when they nipped him. Your tongue circled around his nipple again while taking over stroking his cock as his fist flew to his mouth to hide loud moans.

Earlier Jungkook asked if you wanted him to do all that work and honestly, that’s how you preferred it. You didn’t like having to do much work during sex but Jungkook made you just want to keep going. It’s like he was pulling you in by just being himself.

His legs shook when your hand released his dick to go massage his balls, feeling your grip pull on his flesh making him wince in pleasure. Deciding he couldn’t take not doing anything, his fingers found their way into your hair by the back of your neck, and though he tried not to do it too harshly, pulled you off of him.

“Get on top,” he said with a deep raspy voice that went straight down between your legs but you shook your hand.

You wanted to feel the weight of him in your mouth but you also wanted to feel him inside of you again. You looked at him, “I’m on the pill.”

“Good,” Jungkook said as he helped you move to straddle his hips, “Because I’m out of condoms.”

He needs to remind himself that if he’s going to be with you he needs to buy more. That one had just been sitting in his drawer and he’s really sure how long but it wasn’t expired yet. He also knew he hasn’t had any sex in a few months now and he had no reason for any but now he has you. Now he has to think about you and he swears he will but you don’t seem to mind the way he lines you up with his pointed cock and slowly brings your hips down.

“Oh my god,” you sighed as you sank down with ease and let yourself get readjusted and comfortable with the stimulation again. Usually it’s hard for a guy to make you cum but Jungkook did so easily and he’s already on his way to bring a third out of you. A third. You’ve only brought him to one yet he doesn’t seem to mind, more eager to fuck you with his cock to care.

“Fucking hell," he said moaning as he fucked into you, with a concentrated face watching the way your hips gyrated. Your nails clawed at his chest and accidentally tugged at his piercing a little too harshly and you immediately went to apologize at the sudden grunt that fell from his lips but went quiet when Jungkook sat up and turned you onto your back underneath him. The second he was on top and more in control the pace picked up. You could feel him begin to leave love bites on your chest but the tipping point was when he sucked on your nipple as your body bounced off the bed with each thrust. After all the abuse you did on his piercings he was tired and horny and ready to blow his load and he needed you there too.

This time you’re very aware of how crazy you’re about to sound. You don’t know Jungkook. You’ve kissed him as a stranger and now you’re sleeping with him as one but… but he wants more. He wants romance and you can just tell by the way he talks to you. For some reason that’s making it a lot easier for you to give him affection back and more willing to let him be with you. You weren’t thinking clearly though when you said, “Cum inside.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkened as he groped your breasts looking you in the eye and never once stopping his thrusts, “Really?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours holding you tighter and that’s when it hit you. You scratched along his back whining as you came around him. Jungkook practically hugged your body to his as his legs nearly gave out with his release.

You were sweaty and hot gasping for breath as he pulled out with much disappointment. He looked down at your naked body feeling all sorts of things he couldn’t understand but knew they were good. Just look at how fucked out you are. He wanted to go again but he knows for a fact how bad of an idea that was.

Right now it was in the heat of the moment to not use protection and a bad idea to do it again so he but his tongue and ran a gentle hand along your calf, “You okay?”

“Bathroom?” You asked ready to clean yourself and he pointed it out watching you leave. He fell back on his bed with a huge grin feeling at an all time high, unable to stay still as he shot up and found a towel to clean himself with in bed. When you came back out you didn’t even hesitate to crawl into his oleen arms tiredly.

“Sorry for earlier,” you said softly as you pointed at his red nipple. You had tugged a little too hard on accident and thought it brought him pain it also gave him extreme pleasure. He just smiled hugging you to his side, “I kinda liked it.”

You laughed with him, “Did they hurt?”

“Mm,” Jungkook looked up in thought. He couldn’t help but think about how much you two looked like a couple enjoying their company after making love, “Want me to tell you the truth or what will make me sound cooler?”

“Both,” you said, making him chuckle.

“Alright… I didn’t feel shit,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “But the second one also hurt so fucking bad it almost brought this grown man to tears.”

You laughed at his honesty making yourself more comfortable against him, “Why’d you get all these tattoos and piercings then?”

“So a pretty girl like you could ask me why,” he said teasingly and smiled when you rolled your eyes, “And because I thought they would make me look badass.”

“They do,” you laughed, daring to close your eyes and the way he let your hair was enough to have you falling asleep. You slept for a short moment, very short that had been cut short by a loud dog barking by the door. Jungkook groaned as he shouted out for Bam as you sat up looking dazed and confused.

Jungkook hurried to turn off the music and apologize to Bam for being so loud before practically running to you. He fell back into his bed quickly hoping to go back to sleep with you but it was too late. You didn’t mean to fall asleep and now look at the time. In hopes of distracting you, he leant forward and kissed you.

“I have to go,” you sighed against his lips as he kissed you again. It didn’t even seem like he heard you so you pushed at his face gently to get him to back up as you repeated, “I have to go.”

His eyebrows scrunched together as he used the small grip in your hair to hold you away from him, “Why?”

“Armani’s been alone for hours,” you said with a sigh and nothing in your voice sounded like you weren’t serious. He let you sit up but he quickly followed, “Who?”

“My cat,” you clarified as you looked around for your clothes. A scoff left his lips as he scratched his head, ruffling up his sex hair even more, “You’re leaving me for a cat?”

His eyes shifted to the alarm clock on his nightstand, “It’s past midnight.”

That made you laugh, “Jungkook, I’m just next door, besides if I don’t get home now Amarni will destroy my pillows again, trust me. He’s crazy.”

You ran your hand along his chest, half tempted to brush a finger over his piercing to see if he would suck in a breath like he did before.

Jungkook huffed in annoyance as he got up and slipped on the closest pair of pants he could find and threw on an old t-shirt. You looked at him, but he just scruffed up his hair again, still slightly dazed from the good fuck you two just had. He yawned, “I’ll walk you back then.”

You didn’t argue as he followed you out of his apartment and you really did feel a bit flustered doing this but you had to. You really weren’t lying about Armani, he’s a cat who likes routine and you told him you would be coming home tonight. If he notices that you might not be back he’ll act like a total brat and scratch up your pillows like last time. Plus, if you left then you wouldn’t have to worry about being kicked out and forced to take the walk of shame in the morning.

You stood in front of your apartment door with Jungkook right there in front of you. You leaned against your door for a second as you looked back at him, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm,” he trailed off, taking a step closer to you until one arm was around your waist and a hand was on your neck, “When can I see you again?” It was very obvious that leaving you was the last thing he wanted to do. You bit your bottom lip with raised brows, a bit in shock that he wanted to see you again. Despite how great tonight was, Jungkooked pegged you as a womanizer. Why would he want to see you again?

“I don’t know, I’m sort of busy these next couple of days.” Once again, it was not a lie. You had plans with your friends tomorrow and you’ll be busy with work.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed and before he could stop himself, he asked, “Are you lying to me?”

You’re leaving his bed for a fucking cat and now you’re telling him you’ll be too busy to see him? What bullshit lie was that? Did you not want to see him again after tonight? Do you think he’s going to let you give up that easily?

The question was unexpected but he spoke to you in his usual gentle and deep tone that you were a little confused to answer.

“No, I’ve got plans tomorrow and I’ll be working all day this week,” you said with narrowed eyes, “Why would I lie to you?”

Jungkook smiled softly now as if he hadn’t looked so serious seconds ago, “You’re right, I’m sorry I guess it didn’t make sense to me at first. I’m feeling tired.”

He acted strangely and you’re beginning to pick up on that a little bit but that only caught your interest more, like you wanted to know what his deal was. Why is a seemingly charming and good looking man single? You’re sure he gets hit on all the time and he might enjoy it even if he’s planning to sleep with you. What was his deal?

You placed a hand on the back of his neck and without much effort, reached up to capture his lips with yours. He didn’t put up a fight at all, choosing instead to focus on your tender affection, reminiscent of the night you’ve just spent together. He could stay like this for the rest of the night if you let him.

You told yourself over and over again that you weren’t going to get caught up on a guy again and yet here you are making out with this guy who you kissed right after a break up weeks ago all over again. Was this even what you wanted?

You gave him a wary smile, “I’ll call you?”

Music played loudly in the dimly lit studio and all you heard was the sound of tattoo guns buzzing away.

Rosemary by Deftones filled the black room as Jungkook bit his lip ring in concentration, not bothering to turn at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Namjoon and Yoongi walked into the tattoo parlor that was covered from floor to ceiling in artwork and pictures Jungkook did.

Jungkook was dressed in all black with his tatted hands hidden away by black latex gloves. He had his hair tied back and out of his face so he can work better and his black chunky boots tapped against the floor to the best of the music every now and then when he hummed to himself.

“You almost done?” Namjoon asked as he looked at what he was working on right now. His client sat in the chair with her neck tilted to the side as he did a shaded tattoo behind her ear. The girl was hot, dyed black hair, tattoos, piercings and quite literally the female version of Jungkook yet he didn’t so much as smile whenever she tried to clearly hit on him.

“Almost,” Jungkook said as he used a hand wipe to clean off excess ink. He tilted his head in thought as he looked it over, “Actually, yeah I am. Take a look in the mirror.”

He wheeled his chair back as he pulled off his gloves and looked at his friends, “What are you guys doing here?”

He took his vape out of his pocket and hit it right there in front of them as he waited for the chick to come back and tell him what she thinks about it. Yoongi sat in the unused tattoo chair, “Let’s get some drinks.”

“Alright,” Jungkook said simply. The two looked at each other in confusion as Jungkook told the girl how much it was and tucked the cash into his pocket. They thought it would have taken more to convince him like it usually did. As he finished up with the client he had a little smile on his face and was humming along to whatever song was playing off his phone.

“That was easy,” Namjoon pointed out.

“I’m done for the day anyway,” Jungkook shrugged.

He closed the shop and went to the back where his things were. Yoongi and Namjoon waited out front by the counter, taking in the sight of Jungkook’s tattoo parlor. It wasn’t big by any means but he got a lot of business. The room looked exactly like something Jungkook would decorate and he gets a lot of clients every day. It probably helps that clients tell their friends about him and they come too, looking to get a tattoo from him. It’s not a surprise that most of his clients are women.

Yoongi looked slightly bored waiting for Jungkook to finish and he found himself skimming all the papers on Jungkook’s counter. His brows furrowed as he picked up a small slip of paper and let his eyes widen as he read it. It was receipts from a few floral shops,

An order of 20 bouquets of Baby Breath’s flowers.

He tapped Namjoon on the shoulder until he had his attention and showed him the paper.

When Jungkook came out, he found himself asking, “What’s up with all these flowers?”

The smile on Jungkook’s face seemed to tighten as he took the paper out of their hands, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Is it for the chick you’re seeing? That’s a bit extreme don’t you think?” Namjoon asked with a chuckle as the three left the studio letting Jungkook lock it up. He didn’t say anything for a second.

It wasn’t extreme.

It was romantic?

You worked as a florist. You liked flowers, you liked Baby Breath flowers and he looked up what they meant.

Undying love.

That’s what he felt for you and he wanted to give you a gift you’ll enjoy. Did he maybe go too far? Yeah, but you won’t be upset. You can’t be.

“Wait, how did I not know you’re seeing someone?” Yoongi asked.

“I didn’t know for a while either,” Namjoon told him, “Jungkook show him a picture.”

“Alright,” Jungkook said as he exited out of the app he was currently on to go through his camera roll. He got in the backseat of Yoongi’s car, scrolling through his pictures until he found one. A smile came to his face as he took a second to admire you.

He took this picture last night. You couldn’t see much because the lights were off but after the two of you made love you had fallen asleep. It was right before you jolted awake remembering your stupid cat but he got a picture of you sleeping soundly against him. Your hair framed your face perfectly and you looked so peaceful and at home in his arms that he needed a picture to remember the first night together. It was also the first photo he took of you up close.

“Shit, hang this up in a museum,” Yoongi joked because it really was a nice picture, “How long have you been together?”

“A while.”

When they got to the bar it was already packed with sweaty bodies that made Jungkook cringe whenever someone bumped into him. They got their drinks and went to a table, “So how did the two of you meet?”

“Y/n lives next door,” Jungkook said as he tilted his phone a bit so they couldn’t see the way he switched to another app. He typed in his password and went straight to the video footage. He just had to know if you were home yet.

“Damn, you just moved there too, how’d you pull someone that fast?” Yoongi laughed because they didn’t know that Jungkook just started talking to you a couple days ago. To them, Jungkook and you have been dating for a few weeks now.

“We met a little before that,” His brows knitted together as he looked at the footage. Your curtains were drawn so he couldn’t see in and he can’t tell if you’re home or not. He immediately went to text you.

jungkook: are you home yet? :)

You’ll be honest, you saw Jungkook’s text but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to answer. You have been texting with Jungkook nonstop since that Friday night where he fucked you so good that you woke up with bruises on your hips and left scratch marks along his back that he generously decided to show you a picture of over text.

You’re not sure what to think about him either. Friday night was fun, you got drinks and got to know him better, he treated you right and aside from that strange conversation about destiny the night went perfect. He took you back to his place where you quite literally had the best sex you’ve had in a while and he didn’t ghost you right after. Hell, he made you not want to leave but you did anyway.

Today you’ve been texting on and off and it was all your fault. He responds so quickly but you get busy or forget to respond until he sends another like right now. The last text he sent was asking what time you got off but you had been dealing with delivery orders so you never responded. You had completely forgotten about it until you were in the elevator to your building heading home. Your friend Jiyoung was right behind you, ready to nap on your couch but you weren’t paying attention to her anymore.

You were so focused on your phone that you nearly missed the sight before you as you walked down the hall to your apartment. Your expression changed to that of confusion as you stopped a few feet away from your door. You couldn’t even get to it with the line of bouquets scattered across the entrance. Some lined the walls, some bunched up in front of your door, some had cards in them.

“What the fuck?” Jiyoung asked as she counted them, “Who did this?”

Without much debate, you bent down and took a card in your hands, flipping it open to read:

“For my undying love.”

You couldn’t do anything but blink in surprise. What did this mean?

“Let’s get them inside,” you said with a sigh as you unlocked your front door and urged your friend to help you put them in. It took a few back and forth trips for the both of you but once you scattered them all in your apartment it was very overwhelming.

“This is crazy,” Jiyoung said even as she laughed, “You’ve got an admirer? Is that guy from the other night?”

“Um,” you bit your lip, confused and a little thrown off by this, “Give me a second.”

Jiyoung waved you off as she threw herself on your couch and moved a vase off the coffee table so she had an unobstructed view of your tv. You went straight to your bedroom already pulling up Jungkook’s contact information and dialing.

“Are you home?”

“I am,” you said as you took in your bedroom and it’s lack of flowers, “It was you, right?”

“What?” Jungkook asked over the loud music. He could barely hear you and without another word he was getting up to find somewhere quieter. He ended up in the hall that led toward the restrooms where the music was a bit drowned out.

“The flowers, was it you?”

His smile seemed to drop, “Why? Were you hoping for someone else?”

“No,” you told him, “I just…”

“You don’t like them? I thought they were your favorite,” he said with a boyish smile, proud of himself. He watched some drunk girls stumble past him with disgust.

“They are my favorite,” you said, “Uh, thank you but how'd you find a place that had this many Baby’s Breath?”

“Oh! I had to call up a few different places,” Jungkook said, “And obviously I couldn’t call you because that would ruin the surprise—Hey! Now that you’re home, should I come over?”

“Oh um, I have some friends over, remember?” You asked him shyly. You could hear him take a deep breath but you’re not sure if that meant anything or not.

Who did you have over? Was it that same guy he’s seen before? What was going on between you two anyway?

Some girl bumped into him and he turned to her with a glare, almost forgetting that he had you on the phone. She smiled at him like that would make things better but he was starting to get annoyed. It wasn’t her fault but that didn’t change the fact that her touching him just bothered him. He turned away to talk to you again. He forced his voice to sound light, “I remember, you’re busy.”

“Sorry,” you apologized gnawing on your bottom lip, “How about tomorrow?”

He smiled, “Tomorrow? I’m down.”

“Okay let’s meet then but I have to go now.”

Jungkook said his goodbye and stood in the dark hall in thought. He had to find a way to get a camera in your house. He can’t see much just from the window and he needs to know who you invite over when he’s not around.

“Excuse me.”

He turned back to the drunk that hadn’t left yet despite his efforts to ignore her presence. She smiled at him sweetly like that would make him swoon but he was mad and it wouldn’t work. You were too busy for him but not your friends?

“What?” He asked, already trying to walk back to his friends.

“You look familiar, have we met before?” She asked, following after him and he turned looking at her from head to toe and it made her blush.

“Definitely not.” He was leaving again until a small hand wrapped around his bicep and with an annoyed look he looked back at her. His patience was running thin.

“Well, uh, here then,” she pushed a paper into his hands finally releasing her hold on his bicep. He looked down at the line of paper that she clearly got from the restroom with a number scribbled on it in a rush.

His eyes shifted back to hers and instead of running off shyly she held his gaze with a confident smile. The paper sat in his open palm and without tearing his gaze away from her he made a fist crumpling the paper in his hold and just like that, he threw it on the floor, “What makes you think I would be interested in you?”

He even had the nerve to laugh when she looked taken back. He left without another word and went back to his friends.

“Who was that on the phone?” Yoongi asked when he sat back down. He smiled that bunny smile, “Y/n.”

“What’d she think about the flowers?” Namjoon asked curiously.

“She loved them,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “I think.”

And you’ll love the tattoo just behind his ear too.

“I can’t help but think you look a little tense, Kook.”

Jungkook ignored his friend as he delivered another hit to the punching bag with a low grunt. Make Me Bad by Korn played loudly in the empty training room. He ignored Seokjin as he continued to hit the punching bag. Jin released a sigh as he sat back and watched his friend release whatever stress he felt.

“She’s avoiding me,” Jungkook said to himself as he hit the bag hard. Jin wasn’t fully listening anymore but Jungkook didn’t seem to care as he went on, “She’s lying to me.”

“She’s fucking lying to me,” he hit the 200lb punching bag hard enough to make it move back from the bar and farther away from him.

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Jin asked, watching Jungkook throw off his waistband and gloves. His nose was running from how hard he was working out and his heart pumped with adrenaline. He sniffled as he pushed back his sweaty curls, “Y/n. She hasn’t texted me back in over an hour.”

“She’s probably busy,” Jin said, watching Jungkook lift his shirt up to wipe at his forehead.

“She’s not,” Jungkook said with a tensed jaw, “I know exactly what she’s doing.”

Just before he came to train with Jin he looked at his camera. You had the windows open today and you had people over. He doesn’t care if you invite people over but two guys?

Two guys?

Wasn’t he enough?

One of those guys was over all the fucking time and that pissed him off. How could he be sure you’re not messing around with one of them behind his back?

Jin wasn’t as close to Jungkook as the other two. They were friends and hung out often but he’s not as caught up with Jungkook and his antics as the others. To him, Jungkook was just hoping to be with his girlfriend, so he sighed and said, “So go over and see what she’s up to.”

Jungkook didn’t quite hear his friend with his loud thoughts drumming in his ears so he turned to him with dark eyes, “You think she’s cheating on me?”

“Only one way to find out,” Jin said with a smirk, unaware of how far Jungkook will go to know. He watched his friend’s mind run rampant but he just sat back comfortably. Jungkook was just a concerned boyfriend after all. He didn’t think deeply about his comment, he assumed maybe Jungkook would just tell him to fuck off but he really did look pissed.

When they finished their training, Jungkook rushed over to his place to wash off his work out. He practically ran next door jumping steps to go to you and when he knocked on your door, he couldn’t help but look upset when another man opened it.

It took a second for Taehyung to recognize him, he’s never seen him up close before but when he caught sight of the tattoo sleeve he knew exactly who this guy was. He looked back into your apartment ready to call you over only to find you standing behind him already, “Jungkook?”

Taehyung moved out of the way and let Jungkook through who immediately went right to you, “I wanted to see you, is this a bad time?”

You looked back to your friends who didn’t even pretend to act like they weren’t eavesdropping. You smiled, “No, come in, we’re just talking.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to follow you inside and you led him straight to the kitchen, “Want a drink?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook responded, watching you sweetly as you opened and closed cabinets. You served him a drink and asked, “What’s that red mark by your eye?”

It took him a moment to process what you were asking and he brought a hand up, “Oh, I was boxing and I think my friend hit me a little too hard.”

You made a pouting face teasingly, “Poor baby.”

He smiled knowing you were just teasing him but also showing interest, “Kiss it better?” With a roll of your eyes you leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss near his eye. You led him back to the living room where your friends were.

“So you’re the one who Y/n’s cheating on me with,” Hoseok joked right away and it made you roll your eyes as the others laughed. Jungkook didn’t react but his gaze did seem to harden as he stared at the stranger. You scooted a little closer to Jungkook letting him wrap his arm around you as you leaned back on the couch, “Pack it up Hobi, the joke’s old.”

“It’s not a joke to me!” Hoseok said with a wink as he turned to Jungkook, “Alright whatever, as long as you’re better than the last guy.”

“Oh my god!” Jiyoung squeaked, “Hobi, you can’t just say things like that. Are you drunk?”

He smiled, “I’m just saying.”

Jungkook tilted his head in your direction but you just sighed, “Please ignore them.”

“Oh.”

“So, what are you two anyway? You went crazy with the flowers,” Taehyung asked curiously, joking a little at the end.

Jungkook kept his gaze down, trying his hardest to ignore your friends while also listen in to your answer. You raised your cup to your lips looking at Jungkook who met your gaze hesitantly.

Say he’s your boyfriend, Jungkook thought.

Say you’re his.

Say he’s the on—

“We’re just… yknow, having fun?”

He stopped.

His muscles tensed, tongue poking against his cheek as he looked away from you to hide his expression. His lips curled with the need to scoff but he kept it in. He wanted to ask you why you would say that but not in front of the others. It should be a private conversation between the two of you about your relationship because you clearly weren’t just having fun.

He kept his gaze focused on the picture you had hanging above the fireplace mantle. Your apartment was identical to him and he looked at every corner as if in search of something. With a clear of his throat, he turned to you, “Bathroom?”

“I’ll show you,” you said, patting his thigh as you rose to your feet. You took his hand in yours immediately shooting electricity down his arm as he held it tightly. You pointed to the bathroom but before you got there you asked, “You okay? You’re being kind of quiet.”

“I’m fine, I’m having fun,” Jungkook said with a strained voice, he never tore his gaze away from yours as you stood in front of him near the bathroom. You haven’t known him for long but you do know that when Jungkook looks at you, he never looks this strained. There was clearly something on his mind.

With a defeated sigh, you gave up on asking him anything and went back to the living room. Jungkook waited against the door for a minute to see if you would come back. When you didn’t he took a turn down the rest of the hall fumbling with something he shoved in the big pocket of his black cargo pants.

He looked down at the tiniest camera he’s ever seen and like he was walking into his own place, he went straight to your bedroom. He moved swiftly, finding exactly where he wanted to hide it and in no time he was back to the bathroom pretending to be busy.

You released a sigh, “Let’s call it a night.”

You enjoyed having your friends over and you had spent pretty much all evening with them but you’re getting tired already. It was late, you had a surprisingly busy day today and all your social battery is just completely out. Plus, if they’re just going to talk or tease Jungkook then you'd rather just call it a night. You feel it in your gut that you said something that annoyed him at least a little and it’s probably when they asked what the two of you were.

You don’t know what your relationship with him is, if you’re being honest. Since the beginning you told yourself you didn’t want to date but it feels like that’s what Jungkook wants. You shouldn’t lead him on so you should be open about what you’re looking for but you also don’t want to make him stop talking to you. You have no idea how he really thinks about you so it’s all just so confusing.

“Awe,” Jiyoung whined as she watched you begin to clean up some of the things. The guys seemed too drunk to even care that you were kicking them out as they got up without complaint. When Jungkook finished up he came out to an empty apartment.

He didn’t like what he felt at the moment. You telling your friends that it’s all just fun really bothered him and it made him realize that he hasn’t asked the right questions. Jungkook played with his lip ring as he watched you clean up and he found himself asking, “So uh, how long ago was your last relationship? Your friend brought it up kind of and I guess I just never asked that sort of thing.”

“Um…” your movements seemed to slow as you thought about how to answer, “Two months ago?”

It was quiet for a moment and as hard as you tried, you couldn’t read his expression. Jungkook’s gaze hardened as he tried to think of what happened two months ago, “When we met? Do you still talk to him?”

You rolled your eyes remembering your ex boyfriend. At the time you definitely were a lot more hurt about it now but that doesn’t mean you want to talk about the guy. He cheated on you and now you’re scared it’ll happen again if you start dating.

“No, he cheated on me,” you told Jungkook as you sat down on your couch. Jungkook bit his lip ring hard in thought.

If you and the guy broke up around the time where he met you then that would mean when he met you at the club and saw your bloodshot eyes… it must’ve been when you broke up. You kissed him in the middle of a heartbreak too drunk to even remember. Now you’re telling your friends it’s all just some fun you’re having fun with him and he still doesn’t get what that means.

You watched him stare off into space, eyes wide in thought and you patted the spot on the couch next to yours for him to sit down. You know you’re confusing and you really don’t think you want to be in a relationship but Jungkook… it’s hard to explain. He’s a little intense and sometimes too pushy but for some reason you really did like him.

As he sat down you couldn’t help but play with the Sterling silver Vivienne Westwood chain necklace he wore. He watched your finger hook itself onto the chain and his breath hitched at the warm touch of your finger against his skin. You looked at him with wide and sparkly eyes that had his tongue playing with his lip ring as he bunched up the hem of his black Nirvana tee in his fingers to stop his hands from shaking by having you so close. Without much warning, you tugged on the chain with your index finger and like a devoted pet, he was following your call until his lips met yours. Some of his longer curls tickled your cheeks and he kissed you with such eagerness nearly toppling over you when you pulled on the chain.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip softly as he opened his eyes, looking down at you, “I would never hurt you like the others have.”

You’ve grown used to the way Jungkook acts around you. He likes to be the one to do things for you despite you being able to do it on your own. He hates when you don’t text back in an hour or two. He always seems to know when you’re not home, he offers to pick you up from work, he tries to come anytime you go out with your friends. He’s just sort of always around. You’re not sure if he’s like that with others but that’s how he is with you.

You should definitely be a little burdened by it, it’s suffocating honestly but you genuinely don’t think Jungkook has bad intentions with it. He doesn’t talk much about himself or his friends or family but he always seems to be interested in hearing everything about you. You’re not sure if he has many other people to talk to and you enjoy his time too much to push him away.

One thing you hate to admit and really the only downside to him is his obsession with getting you flowers. The first time the two of you went out he asked you what flowers you liked and you told him absentmindedly. You never expected him to have so many bouquets of them delivered—nor did you expect to receive one every time you saw him.

You loved flowers and were thankful for the thought behind it but you’re beginning to hate Baby’s Breath. You’re starting to see them everywhere from work to home to any time you see Jungkook. They’re everywhere and it’s beginning to feel like you’re drowning in the little white flowers.

If only you had the heart to tell him that he didn’t need to get you flowers every time he saw you.

“Y/n,” Jungkook had a huge smile on his face, “This is Namjoon, That’s Yoongi.”

He pointed to two of his friends who hung around his living room. His arm was around your waist loosely as he directed you to a seat, only to pull you onto his lap when he sat down. You smile shyly as you attempt to greet them only to have Jungkook pull your attention back on him when he places a gentle kiss on your shoulder blade, arms tight around you.

Namjoon was surprised to see this side of Jungkook and he’s only just met you. It makes him wonder if he’s always been this way with you. He very rarely sees the guy smile much less show this much affection to one person and it’s all just very new to him. He’s seen Jungkook upset and mad plenty of times but to see him look soft and gentle was something entirely different.

“Nice of Jungkook to finally let us meet you,” Yoongi said with a light chuckle as he offered you a drink. You took the cup from him with a smile as he continued, “You’re all he talks about, it’s weird.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook warned as you felt his arms tighten around you just slightly. Yoongi just smiled, “I’m just saying, it’s been nonstop weeks of listening about you talk about your girlfriend so it’s nice to finally get to meet her, right Joon?”

Your brows seemed to scrunch together in confusion as you looked to Jungkook. The two of you weren’t technically dating, sure, you hang out all the time and have sex but you’ve never actually considered yourselves in a relationship. You thought you’ve made it clear that this was fun and maybe you’re to blame for possibly leading him on but he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend or partner.

If he has been saying that to his friends then you would like to have a talk with him about where the two of you stand before it happens again. You leaned back against Jungkook’s chest trying to look at him but before you could say something he planted a quick kiss on your lips making you forget your own words.

Jungkook knew that your pretty mind was thinking about what his friends were saying and he just wanted to tell you not to worry about any of it. Of course he tells his friends you’re his girlfriend but it’s not like he’s begging you to be. He knows that you had a rough break up with the last guy and as much as he wants to find out who he was and hurt him for hurting you… he also had to thank him. If it wasn’t for the break up then you wouldn’t have been out that night of your kiss and he wouldn’t have met you. He knows that to you, a relationship isn’t ideal at the moment but he’s still basically forcing you into one even if you want to say you’re not dating him.

He spends all his free time with you.

He calls you and texts you all day.

He watches over you while you sleep through his new cameras.

He makes sure nobody breaks in.

He’s always around in case something happens and he knows you’re thankful for him even if you don’t really know all the things he does for you.

You began to completely tune out the rest of their talk growing bored and you resorted to playing with his hair. It was getting longer and the curls were beginning to loosen so it was easy to run your fingers through them and hold it back like you were going to tie his hair. Maybe you were acting like a kid letting him talk to his friends while also basically begging for his attention but you were just bored. His friends seemed like nice people but you weren’t really interested in their conversation. You felt bad for sort of distracting Jungkook but you didn’t stop playing with his hair, even when he smiled like a bunny at the way you pulled on a strand only to release it and watch it recoil.

You brushed his hair back tucking some of it behind his ear and just like that, your hand seemed to freeze.

Right there staring back at you was a small tattoo that you failed to notice before. Your nail just barely brushed over it but it was real and it’s not old. It was healed for the most part but you can still see specs of dry skin around it meaning it had to be somewhat recent.

A tattoo of Baby’s Breath flowers scattered across the back of his ear and they were small delicate drawings tucked away. How did you not notice this before?

Was it always there?

When did he do it?

It wasn’t because you said they were your favorite, right?

You understand the bouquets — despite the copious amount of them he sends you — you understand the curiosity behind plants but to get it tattooed on his own skin?

You moved your hand away and turned to face forward again as you tried to process what you just saw.

You must be imagining it. There’s no reason why Jungkook would get a tattoo of a flower you told him was your favorite. It just didn’t make sense why he would do that.

Him getting that tattoo for you [maybe?] didn’t make sense.

“What’s up?” He asked you as you stared off into space. His friends had been in their own conversation and Deftones played quietly in the background but like usual, his attention was only ever on you. Even when you’re not around he finds his mind consumed by the thought of you and there’s no escape—not that he would need to.

“Nothing,” you muttered under your breath as you played with the ring on his fingers absentmindedly. You only did this when you were lost in thought and he was curious to know what it is. If he could know every single thing you think about then he would feel much more at ease.

You were being so cute right now even if you weren’t talking. You were sweet and pliant, sitting on his lap letting him hold you and kiss you like his pretty little girlfriend that you were. He sincerely regrets inviting his friends over because all he would like to do is kick them out so he could be alone with you again.

“Actually,” you whispered making his head perk up to listen, “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to stand up with you against him as he looked to his friends, “We’ll be right back.”

You followed Jungkook down the hall into his familiar bedroom with the black silk bed sheets and band posters on the walls. This time around there was a new picture frame on his desk and it was one of you and him. You seemed to be asleep in the picture with your head resting on Jungkook’s naked chest near his piercings. He had a tattooed hand in your hair and you can just tell his touch was gentle. You can’t remember when he would have taken that but he had the picture framed.

In the corner of his nightstand was a vase filled with Baby’s Breath and for the first time since you met him did you actually feel the suffocating nature of his affection. Just earlier you were saying how much you enjoyed him and yet right now it’s starting to hit you that this might not all be normal.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked gently as he watched you look around his bedroom, a smile on his face.

You didn’t know where to begin so you started with the first thing that confused you today.

“Your friends called me your girlfriend,” you said, “And I… well alright whatever, it’s fine but we’ve never talked about a relationship, you know?”

“I know…” Jungkook said, smile gone as he waited for you to keep going. He doesn’t understand why you feel the need to clear it up, it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. It’s the truth even if you hate to admit it.

“You know?” You asked, “So why did your friends call me your girlfriend? And why did they say they’ve been waiting to meet me for a while no—“

Jungkook released a soft chuckle as he came up to you, brushing your hair back, “I don’t know, maybe they just assumed because I talk about you a lot. I didn’t know I couldn’t even talk about you to my friends.”

“That’s not the problem Jungkook,” you took a deep breath in thought, trying to gather the right words, “What about the flowers?”

“What about them?”

“I appreciate the gesture, I really do but you don’t… you know you don’t have to give me some all the time,” you said with your arms crossed over your chest self consciously, “And the tattoo.”

“Tattoo?”

Jungkook was playing dumb and he was doing a hell of a good job at it. He’s not sure what your deal is or why you suddenly look uncomfortable next to him but you need to stop. Everything’s fine, you’re making yourself worked up and he doesn’t get why.

“Behind your ear,” you clarified, “Of the flower? When did you get that?”

He shrugged, “A week ago, maybe? Do you like it?”

“What is it?” You needed to hear him say it. He stared at you blankly as he took another step toward you.

“Baby’s Breath, I didn’t know they were my favorite too until you came along,” he said and before he could take another he asked, “Are you alright? You seem a little shaken up.”

“I just need a minute,” you said, missing the way his dark eyes hardened as he watched you step back from him. With a clenched jaw he nodded, “Alright, take all the time you need. I’ll just be out there.”

You didn’t say anything as you went ahead and took a seat on the edge of his bed hearing the sound of the door click shut behind him. Maybe you’re just overthinking it. He can have a flower tattoo… no big deal.

Even if it’s the same flower he’s delivered practically a hundred bouquets of to you.

Even if he asked what your favorite flower was.

It’s a basic flower you’re overthinking it.

Jungkook looked at his two friends who busied themselves with bottles of Soju and his large television. They didn’t even bother to turn his music off either and now Ever by Team Sleep was playing at an annoyingly high volume with the tv on too.

Yoongi was laughing over something Namjoon said, he looked up just in time to find Jungkook standing only a few feet away from them, keeping still. He still smiled with the urge to laugh as he asked, “Everything good? You want another drink?”

“Actually, I think it’s time you leave,” Jungkook said coldly yet his two friends barely flinched, waving him off with a hand. It’s not like they weren’t used to his quick mood changes, they’ve known him too long to not read the signs. He’s a little intense and serious but he’s also a loving kid at heart. He doesn’t know how to express anything properly, he just knows how to do it in the extreme. He’s annoyed by something right now but give him a drink and he’ll get over it.

Namjoon extended out a glass of Soju to him, “One more.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second as you tried to clear your head. You were overthinking shit, you don’t even want this. You like him but a relationship?

Alone in his bedroom you could really picture this as yours. It’s crazy how identical they are and it was a good distraction to keep you from going back out there and telling him you would just like to go home for the night. Standing up you walked over to the window finding it strange to view your own apartment out the window.

You took a step away turning instead to look at his desk which was unorganized and filled with tattoo sketches from when he does work at home. Now you were being nosy, you were trying to stall your departure but the picture frame of you on his desk was just staring at you. You picked it up to get a better look but the lights reflection was too bright. With squinted eyes you turned it down and popped the back off hoping to see the picture without the glass in the way.

Instantly, three matching 4x6 pictures fell out of the open frame with their backs facing up. You assumed Jungkook just continued to put new pictures over the old ones instead of switching them out.

Worried he would catch you snooping, you bent down to pick the pictures up, turning them your way.

Jungkook took a deep breath as he stared at the two of them unamused, “I said, I think it’s time you leave.”

He knows you’re upset and something tells him he’s to blame so he needs to figure out what. He can’t focus on you while his friends are here trying to expose and ruin everything he has built up with you.

Why did they have to call you his girlfriend and why are you being such a bitch about it?

He fucking hated flowers yet he wanted to get something you love permanent on his skin and you want be mad?

He can’t catch a break. First you can’t even remember him, then you make him worried sick whenever you’re at home alone or with one of your friends. He’s tried so hard to not be the possessive boyfriend but goddamn is he sick of watching your bedroom camera footage and seeing you laughing and hanging with Taehyung every other night.

Now you can’t even be appreciative of the very kind and thoughtful gesture of putting a permanent mark of what your relationship was on his neck? All of his tattoos have a meaning and yours means the most yet you want to question why he would even get it? You’re very lucky he’s able to play things off to save himself from embarrassment. You didn’t recognize his gesture and instead questioned him, turning it from romantic to strange.

He’s just annoyed at this point but he knows that once he gets you to relax everything will be fine. You’re like a little kitten, if he pushes too hard you draw back so he has to ease you into this like he’s done since the beginning.

“Oh,” Namjoon was stunned as his eyes trailed back to Jungkook’s room where you had closed yourself on for some reason. He wondered for a moment if the two of you were in a fight because Jungkook looked so happy earlier and now he just looks on edge. Yoongi and Namjoon shared a similar look as they slowly came to accept it despite how strange he was acting, “Okay.”

“Are you guys alright?” Yoongi couldn’t help but ask as he got up to leave. Jungkook forced a smile, “Yeah, Y/n’s not feeling good though.”

Namjoon seemed to relax, “Really?”

“She did seem kind of quiet…” Yoongi said as his friend nodded in agreement.

You felt stuck, you couldn’t tear your gaze away and you couldn’t even try to move your body.

The first picture was alright, it was the same picture of you in his arms, it was normal.

The second one was… alarming? It was a zoomed in picture of your bedroom window with you sitting at your vanity doing your makeup to go out. You were looking at yourself and you were holding a lipgloss or something, you couldn’t tell with the window frames in the way.

The third was where your blood seemed to run cold. Right there in black and white was a clear and up close picture of you sleeping in your own bed. It wasn’t taken by someone next to you but more so it was an angle that looked like it was hidden.

Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair as his friends finally left and he prepared to see what was on your mind. He let himself back into his bedroom quietly, clicking the door shut and smiling warmly, “Kay, it’s just us, you can come out now.”

He turned to you calmly, eyes locking on the three photos in your hands and the empty picture frame laying on his desk.

Oh.

You found his favorite pictures.

“What are these?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady and calm, “Are you stalking me?”

“Not exactly,” Jungkook sighed in defeat, “It’s just…”

He took a step toward you and you immediately put your hands up in defense. He practically giggled as he moved your hands away, “Stop messing around, I’ll explain.”

“Don’t touch me,” you said, taking a step away, “Do you have a camera in my room?”

Jungkook wasn’t smiling anymore, “Why can’t I touch you? I’ll explain, just relax.”

“I’m not going to relax, Jungkook, I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on,” you told him moving closer to the front door with him circling you like a predator watching its pray waiting to attack.

“Yes, I put a camera in your room but I was just worried,” he said with a laugh like he was shy to admit it, “I just kept thinking of something happening to you in your dreams and—look, stay calm, I’m just being honest, isn’t that what you wanted?”

You were itching to leave because suddenly there’s something deep in your gut telling you that this guy really is weird. Was he really trying to justify a literal crime? How crazy was he?

He’s so calm too and he’s smiling and laughing like it’s all just no big deal even though you’ve just learned he’s got cameras watching you in your own home.

You didn’t want to know anything more at the moment. To be honest you were just freaked the fuck out and ready to just leave and get away from him. You needed to find that camera too or else you think you’ll faint from wondering if this was actually happening or not. His friends weren’t even here anymore to hear you two talk.

Jungkook watched as you reached for the door and before either of you knew it, he was on his feet moving to stop you. His arms wrapped around your body, trapping your arms at your sides and carrying you away from the door. You immediately went to scream but his hand came up around your mouth as he walked over to his bed, “Shhh, I’m not gonna do anything, babe, you know me. I just don’t want you leaving while we’re trying to have a conversation.”

“What was I saying?” Jungkook asked himself as he let his hand fall from your mouth, “Oh! You know, I never meant to do that but I was just never able to stop thinking about you. I wanted to be close with you even when I couldn’t be and I had to think of a way to do that.”

“From the very first moment I saw you and we kissed, I just… well it’s just hard to believe we’re not meant to be together,” Jungkook said, staring off at the pictures in your hand, “I mean moving in next door was really just by chance but isn’t it so crazy that fate wanted us to find each other. You still don’t believe it?”

“You’re crazy,” you muttered fighting back a tear as you pushed back at him. His hold on you loosened at your words and you took the chance to get up but he was right there in front of you with widened eyes.

“I’m not crazy,” he said with a shaky voice like he was truly becoming more unhinged by the second, “I’m in love.”

Each step you took back he took one forward and you wanted to run out the door but you couldn’t. It’s like you were completely stuck trying to figure out what to do. It’s crazy how your best friends always joked about him being a stalker but for him to actually set up cameras specifically to watch you? That was more than what you ever imagined and you were so scared. What other pictures or videos did he have of you? What did he do with them?

Jungkook knew you were incapable of running. You love him too and he knows it, maybe you didn’t in the beginning but now you’re clearly attached to him just the same and you’re so surprised you’re not running. You want to run but you can’t deny that you have really grown to love him and if he has to show you how far he’ll go to make you love him back he will. He dropped down to his knees in front of you taking your hands in his and gripping them tightly against his chest when you tried to yank them back.

“Jungkoo—“

“I’ll change,” Jungkook said and you watched the way his eyes seemed to redden and shake from how hard he was trying but to cry or go crazy, “I’ll change Y/n, I promise. I’ll be better. I’ll—“

“No, it’s too late, I can’t. You’ve been stalking me! Do you get that? I’m not just going to change my mind Jungkook,” you tried to say but he wouldn’t let go. He only moved closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he clung to you from the floor down on his knees for you.

“I love you, Y/n, please just give me a chance,” Jungkook said as you tried shaking him off.

“I don’t love you Jungkook, I never wi—“

“I don’t care!” He shouted making you jump at the sudden rise of his deep voice, hands tightening on your hips, eyes wide and red, close to tears and unblinking, “You don’t have to love me back as long as you let me love you.”

“That’s so fucked,” you nearly cried but he wouldn’t let up.

“Y/n.”

You looked down at him and in truth he looked like he was close to snapping and you were scared. He had such a strong idea about romance and love and soulmates that he doesn’t even care if you don’t feel the same. That’s sad and pathetic. This wasn’t the Jungkook you had started to fall for.

You never expected him to be like this, he wasn’t dangerous or putting you in harms way he’s just… he’s just really fucking delusional and that’s what’s scary. You don’t know what he’ll do. He’s never made you feel unsafe like he is right now.

“Don’t you realize that there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you to let me love you,” Jungkook said seriously, “I’ll show you it all.”

He’s been very tame till now. He’s tried so hard to be gentle and loving in front of you but you’re making it so hard right now to keep the act up. He never wanted to scare you but if you really do try and walk out that door and think he’s going to let you… you’re dead fucking wrong.

“Jungkook…” he clung to you, face pressed against your lower stomach not letting you move, “This isn’t normal.”

“Y/n if you try to leave me,” his voice was cracking, close to breaking and his entire body trembled, “I won’t be able to live without you, please…”

He was insane. You know he’s crazy, you know he’s just trying to scare you into not running out that door and you hated to admit that it was working. He just seemed so unhinged right now and the way his body was trembling and voice breaking as he hugged you so tightly, you really are scared he might do something to himself. It’s not something you want to risk by leaving, who knows what he’ll do to himself.

Unsure of what to do, you dropped a shaky hand into his hair, brushing it back as he cried, “I’ll change, I swear. You can’t leave me, I can’t live knowing you aren’t with me.”

You’ve heard so many stories about people trying to leave their partners and it only ended up with them in the news with old pictures of them smiling as people talked about how much they missed them and you really couldn’t do that. If he can’t have you… how do you know that means he’ll let someone else have you? He’s never made you fear for your life… he seemed so normal, not like this deranged man who’s been caught having secret cameras watching you.

With a shaky breath, you slowly letting your hands hug around his neck, “Shh, it’s alright…”

Your voice trembled in fear as you slowly dropped to your knees feeling him sob against you, “We—We’ll… let’s figure this out, okay? Just calm down, take a deep breath.”

“Y/n, I love you,” he hiccups as you could his face trying to wipe away tears as you dropped to your knees. Now that you’ve got a clearer head you can hear the stupid band he’s obsessed with still playing from the living room. His silver chain that you always played with still shimmered in the light and you hooked your fingers around it to remind him that you’re cooperating.

You’ve just now noticed that his Deftones’ Around the Fur tee was drenched in his tears along with the front of your jeans and you very carefully wrapped your arms around him, “I’m not leaving.”

He didn’t care if it was out of love or fear, he held you tightly nevertheless, not letting you go as he tried to kiss you only for you to flinch back. Scared he wouldn’t like that, you forced yourself to lean into him for a kiss, tasting his dry, salty tears on your lips.

He smiled his same stupid bunny smile—like everything was right in the world and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve been dreaming of you and me like this for so long time, baby, don’t you ever try to leave me again, okay?”

“Okay, why don’t we lie down? It’ll make you feel better,” you whispered gently and his dark eyes seemed to water and lower lip quiver as he nodded his head. Letting you lead him to his own bed and when you lied down, he went between your legs, keeping you pressed against the bed trapped.

That’s what being with him would feel like, like you’re trapped and all he’ll think about would be how he finally found the one that he’s been searching for. No bells chimed or birds sang, only Romantic Dreams by Deftones was heard playing in the background.

::.

listen y’all this is long 😭 I know it is and as of right now I have no desire to write a part two so it’s open ended. also idk how I feel about this yet but Jungkook is so hot. anyway the taglist is too long so I have to do it in parts.

so sorry to whoever took the time to read this I’m so sorry

personal taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog g @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802 @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

fic taglist: @beshy02 @jooniesxbby @ebony3-blog @loonehbleus @klutzymermaid @tarotcoconut @whipwhoops @wdym-ree @somehowukook @fxirytaetae @nochuel @thaiika @ilove-tae @taeyongzodiactinkiri @gamer-carat @jungkookieeee97 @l0cal101 @justinseagul1 @haileycannotcometothephonern @minayas1998 @autumnbear @urf1lterr @yoongiwantsme @wnderkoo @theblueslytherin @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @8makes1scream @yjwonnn @blueberry711 @kimchimtae @babyitscoldoutside @simple-day-dreamer @yoongisgirl @ackercute @glitterkoo @darkuni63

[taglist is too long and I can only do 50 so I have to add the rest of y’all in a reblog]

#jeon jungkook #jungkook yandere #Jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook au #Jungkook oneshot #Jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #yandere jungkook #bts #SoundCloud #romantic dreams

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ldrfanatic · 13 days

Note

Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests but if you are can you do a Slytherin boy(preferably Mattheo, Theo, or Enzo but you can choose) x reader. So the reader was walking down the hall and they heard chanting and cheering so they went to check it out and they saw the Slytherin boy in a might. Their face was really bloody and already starting to bruise so the reader tries to break up the fight, but ends up accidentally getting hit. Before the Slytherin boy can do anything the reader punches the other person in the face and then drags the boy back to his dorm to clean him up. And the boy is just kinda awestruck by what he just witnessed, and he just admires the reader as she cleans and patches him up. Sorry that this turned out to be so long 😭 have a lovely day!

The Knockout Chronicles

Theodore Nott x Reader Mattheo Riddle x Reader Enzo Berkshire x Reader

warnings - cursing, blood, fighting

a.n. i am taking requests esp for the slytherins :)

sooo... I couldn't decide who to write this for so I just did all three I hope that's okay. also this is my first time writing for Mattheo and Enzo so please let me know if there's something off regarding their characters I tried to do as much research as possible.

i was so freaking excited to get a slytherin request that i literally wrote this all in one sitting so i apologize for any typos or anything. please feel free to send more slytherin requests!!

wc 1.9k (each piece is about 500-600 words)

nav slytherin boys

---

You yanked exhaustedly at the tie, finally undoing the loop and pulling the damned thing off your neck. After a long day of O.W.L's all you wanted was to find your boyfriend and collapse into his arms. Whether it was your dorm or his made no difference to you so long as you didn't have to do anything more for the remainder of the evening.

As you walked the corridor in search of your now missing little snake, you heard the distinct hollering and shouting of what was likely a fight taking place. Typically, you'd be there either watching or taking bets, but today was different. There was a tired in you that settled into your bones.

The gentle glow of the setting sun lit up the castle walls with beautiful hues of pinks and oranges as you debated the merits of actually going to get involved in this affair when suddenly, you heard a student call out a familiar name.

THEODORE

"YEAH! Go on Theo, kick his ass!"

You closed your eyes, leaned your head back, and took deep breaths as you attempted to suppress the rage currently building within you.

All you wanted was a peaceful, quiet evening in Theo's arms.

Nonetheless, you quickly advanced toward the noise. Despite having heard students cheering and chanting for him, you were still rather surprised to see your boyfriend on top of some poor Ravenclaw boy, beating the absolute snot out of him.

Theo's fist came down punch after punch. Unlike the loud atmosphere of the students who'd gathered, Theo fought in complete silence. Still, though he seemed calm and controlled, you knew that you had to put an end to it.

It wasn't often that Theodore Nott got into fights. He didn't like to let his emotions get the better of him. In fact, emotion was something his father had tried to beat out of him at a rather early age. But when he did get into fights, Theo was ruthless. He could beat someone to death and never change expression. In fact, most people avoided conflict with Theo entirely due to the boys ability to deliver blow after blow for hours on end.

This Ravenclaw boy didn't seem to get the message. You approached the pair of them and placed a gentle hand on Theo's shoulder. His fist froze mid-swing.

"That's enough, Theodore."

Your appearance gave the Ravenclaw the momentary distraction he needed to wriggle out from underneath. The boy immediately lunged at Theo as soon as his feet touched the ground. However, in his reckless abandon, his elbow found it's way to your cheek and hit you on the side of the face with an audible thud, effectively whipping your head sideways.

The courtyard fell silent.

For the first time since their fight began, Theo's emotionless front cracked. He was seething with pure rage.

"Listen, man, I-- I didn't mean--"

Even those that weren't deterred by Theo's reputation and had decided to fight him anyways knew that there was only one person in this world that Theodore Nott cared for. You. And if anyone ever messed with you, Theo was more than happy to provide them with a brutal trip to the afterlife.

But the punch that broke the boy's jaw wasn't delivered by Theo.

You shook your hand out, not expecting your knuckles to pop in the way that they did when your fist met his face. The force of your punch had knocked the Ravenclaw to the floor. Two of his friends suddenly pushed through from the crowd and picked him up as quickly as possible before the three of them took off down the hall.

You didn't say anything as you grabbed the arm of Theodore's shirt. You plucked his robes off of the floor and stormed out of the courtyard, towards the Slytherin Common Room. Theo was silent the entire walk there. It wasn't until you were perched on his lap, cleaning the cuts on his face and hands that he spoke.

"Merlin, all this time you've been able to throw a punch like that?"

"Keep fucking playing with me Theodore, and you'll find out just how mean of a punch I can throw."

MATTHEO

"C'mon Riddle!"

"Goddamnit." You huffed out as you barged through the doors that led to the one-eyed witch courtyard. Mattheo, whom you were unfortunately in a relationship with, was rather engaged in a surprisingly brutal fight with Stewart Ackerley, a Gryffindor in your year.

His shirt and hands were covered in deep red splotches which you could only assume were Stewart's blood. Mattheo had probably the roughest upbringing of anyone you'd ever known. He'd always been hotheaded and he was always getting into fights. The number of entanglements he'd been in had died down considerably since the two of you began dating but it wasn't hard to get Mattheo riled up if you knew what button to push.

And Stewart Ackerley had damn near broken that button when Mattheo overheard him scheming with his disgusting friends about trying to get you into his bed.

Something that you noticed really early on into dating Mattheo is that he's not like other students. His troubled childhood and his unfortunate parentage meant that he had a darkness in him. He'd joked on more than one occasion that the real him was a monster that he kept chained up in the back of his mind.

Most importantly, when Mattheo fights, he lets the monster loose. He's complete, uncontrolled chaos as soon as that adrenaline hits his blood. It's like getting into a fistfight with a hurricane.

You carefully approached the pair of them, careful not to get too close.

"Mattheo stop it."

Mattheo's body flew around to face the source of whoever had been brave enough to scold him. It was likely this person would be the next target of his rage. That is, until his eyes met yours. He took a deep breath that did nothing to stop the way his body shook with rage.

Once you'd decided it was safe enough to draw near to him, you wiped away a bit of Ackerley's blood that had splattered onto his cheek.

It seemed, however, that the beating he'd received wasn't enough to deter the stupid Gryffindor. Moments later, he was blindly throwing his fists towards Mattheo. His vision was too impaired by blood and sweat to notice the figure standing next to him and in a moment of sheer ignorance, he'd mistakenly punched you in the face instead.

The taste of iron filled your mouth as blood started to pool. His blow had caused you to bite down on your tongue quite hard.

Mattheo instantly grabbed Ackerley by his collar but before he could punch the boy, he'd doubled over in pain from a swift kick that you'd delivered to his groin. While he was bent over, you swiftly pulled your knee up, satisfied with the crunch noise his nose made as it came in contact with your knee.

Ackerley let out a rather unbecoming shriek as he fell to the ground.

Mattheo stood off to the side with a proud look on his face. He smirked and flipped Ackerley off as you yanked him from the scene.

When you made it back to the Slytherin Common Room, Mattheo pulled you into a rather intense kiss. You pushed him onto the expensive leather couch and began dabbing at his busted knuckles with a cotton pad soaked with alcohol. Mattheo's other hand snaked around the back of your neck, pulling your head up so your eyes met his.

"As incredibly hot as that was Princess, do me a favor. Next time you're going to try and help me, don't."

"Get in there Berkshire!"

Confusion contorted your face as you approached the bell towers.

Why in the hell, would your sweet, loving Enzo be in a fight? Though you were convinced that it was really just some other slytherin who might've held a close resemblance to Enzo, you still allowed your feet to carry you towards the source of all the racket.

It came as quite a shock when you'd approached and saw your dark haired Slytherin on top of some poor student. You recognized the boy from the halls but you'd never actually met him. And here your sweet Enzo was, very thoroughly pummeling him to your surprise.

Not that you thought Enzo couldn't fight. In fact, you knew that Enzo had quite a bit of experience in that realm after the training his father had given him. What was shocking was that Enzo was fighting at all.

Despite his cousin Draco's attempts to goad him into fights on numerous different occasions, Enzo really did despise fighting. He was always a little bit afraid that if he allowed himself to lose control like he'd seen Mattheo do so often, he'd accidentally kill the bloke. No, it wasn't fair to engage in fights with people so much less trained than he.

So to see him now, face set in a hard and angry stare while he obliterated the boy below him was startling.

Though the student on the ground was just about destroyed, Enzo didn't have a scratch on him. He had a little blood that had splattered onto his coat and you suspected his knuckles had split, but aside from that, he was untouched.

You knew that if you didn't put an end to this, Enzo was going to regret it.

"Enzo." Your voice rang out softly into the air but he didn't hear you as he continued to beat his opponent. "Lorenzo, lay off of him."

This time, Enzo registered the sound of your dulcet tones. He stood from his place on top of the boy. You'd expected him to walk over to you and laugh it off, but instead he delivered a brutal kick to the boy's ribs, still angry beyond reason.

You marched up to the two of them, frustrated. "I said, stop."

Enzo turned to stare at you with a blank look in his eyes. It was like he'd completely died inside.

Whoever the little shit was that he'd just beat the life out of saw a unique opportunity (to die). You let out an involuntary yelp as he kicked your legs out from under you. Thankfully, you landed on your bum on the soft grass, but his actions did nothing to help Enzo's rage.

Before your boyfriend could get the chance to kill the kid, you'd jumped to your feet and stepped directly on his hand, applying probably more pressure than necessary. You secretly enjoyed the hoarse scream he let out. You only wanted to wound him enough to send a message, not enough to send him to the hospital wing, or worse, crying to the teachers like a little bitch.

After a thinly veiled threat, you took Enzo's bloody hand in yours and jerked him back towards the castle. Thankfully, most of the students were either on their way to dinner to already there so the halls were fairly empty.

"What was that?"

You growled out the moment the door to the Common Room shut behind you.

"Look I'm sorry, Y/n. But I'm not just going to stand by and let Cormac McClaggen of all people insult you."

Your eyes softened and you reached to the first aid kit kept in one of the large oak cabinets near the fireplace. You spoke gently to Enzo as you cleaned and bandaged his hands.

"Thank you, but I don't need you to protect me Enzo."

"Yeah, clearly."

4.18.2024

-- taglist -- (this is my theo taglist but to join any taglist for any specific boy just comment on any of my posts specifying which taglist you'd like to join)

@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

06. sharing a bed series ; skz ; felix

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 6/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. bodyguard au. a dose of angst. open ending. past violence and parental abuse mentioned. ongoing perilous situation and forced proximity. not the healthiest dynamic lol. spanking, some rough play, hair-pulling, throat-grabbing, overstimulation, crying during sex, mention of past unprotected sex, a more dominant felix and a kinda bratty reader.

You kick open your bedroom door. As usual, no one is home except for you and Felix so you are free to scream and curse and stomp all you want.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you shout among a flurry of other colourful words.

Felix enters behind you with his hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as ever.

Felix’s perpetual calmness is half the reason your father hired him. The other reason is that Felix was the best behaved boy in the world who grew into the most pristine, perfect man. Your father did not claw his way to the top of the industrial world by settling for anything less than the best. Lee Felix is the best. Your father trusts him with everything and anything, including wrangling his rambunctious daughter. Felix’s job is to guard and protect you – from others and from yourself. He is annoyingly good at it.

Felix is the prettiest, loveliest, sweetest man on the outside, particularly selected for his unassuming attributes. An obvious bodyguard figure draws unwanted attention. Felix, however, attended high school and college with you, posing as a fellow student and never looking out of place, always appearing gentle and ordinary and kind. Behind that, he is a lethally competent bodyguard. Your skinny, freckled, fair-haired watchdog can subdue any adversary.

Including the one tonight.

“I was just doing my job,” Felix says. He closes your bedroom door and locks it out of habit even though you are home alone. He is still completely uncaring to your crisis, as fucking usual, wandering around like he is a sensitive little lamb, smiling and content.

You throw yourself down on your bed with a dramatic heave.

“You broke his arm!” you cry.

Felix is standing at your desk, removing his work equipment. He is dressed like a civilian for the most part, denim pants with a windbreaker and a button-down over a t-shirt. He lays the jacket over the back of the chair and sighs, looking at his reflection in your vanity mirror. He runs a hand through his hair, still casual, feathering the dyed locks so they flutter back into place.

“I was just doing my job,” he repeats. He undoes the button-down and tosses it aside, then kicks his shoes under the desk.

Felix is all sharp lines and harsh angles, slender but athletic. His cheekbones are high, his angular face softened by his dark eyes and endearing freckles. That sweetness is juxtaposed by the gun harness strapped across his back.

You swallow. The harness hits the floor, then he grabs the back of the t-shirt and yanks it swiftly over his head. It joins the pile of discarded articles.

He sits on the desk chair with a distracted sigh, dutifully disassembling the gun for an inspection or cleaning or whatever nonsense Felix has decided is more important than your conversation.

“His arm,” you repeat. “You broke his arm. He was a completely innocent guy! I’m allowed to flirt with guys! Just because you’re my daddy’s good dog and he doesn’t let you get your dick wet, doesn’t mean I have to suffer too.”

Felix looks at you, his mouth a thin line with his unamused smile.

“Cute,” he says. He drops the smile and his distinctive deep voice drops another decibel when he says, “You can flirt. Just not with him.”

“His arm—”

Felix closes the gun and puts it on the desk.

“I think he was lucky I didn’t rip it off for grabbing you like that, don’t you think?” Felix says. He asks it so nicely too, tipping his head imploringly, like he really wants an answer. Not that he waits. Just as soon as the smile comes, it goes, replaced with a eye roll as he gets to his feet.

“Get ready for bed,” Felix says. “And, mmm, that’s not a request by the way. I’m phoning your dad to tell him we’re home safe.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just leaves the room while reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He closes the door behind himself, leaving you to fume by your lonesome.

Out of rebellious frustration, you do not budge an inch. You cross your arms and sit back on your bed, still dressed in your evening outfit. You can distantly hear Felix speaking in a formal voice and it makes you twitch with anticipation.

Felix being so professional is simultaneously his most annoying and most attractive quality. Annoying, because he really never falters on the clock. Attractive, because it wouldn’t be any fun pushing him to the boundaries of his rules if he wasn’t such a stickler in the first place.

When Felix returns, still wearing nothing more than his jeans, his expression immediately turns exasperated. He closes the door and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at you.

You stare straight ahead, arms and ankles crossed. You and Felix have shared a bed since the day he was hired, back when you were teenagers, as you were in the habit of sneaking out at night. You were not intimidated by the chubby-cheeked teenage boy, gleefully slipping past him while he slumbered – until suddenly you were being yanked back through the window. You learned the hard way that despite his appearance and disposition, he was an especially skilled martial artist.

As your father continues to accrue enemies in every market, you cannot live life on your own, not without endangering it. You still need Felix. You still share a bed. Everything you do, you do with Felix, whether you like it or not. Felix expresses little feeling on that front, a perpetual font of seeming sunshine when he isn’t breaking someone’s arm.

You know you are being mightily petulant by keeping him up, but you don’t care. If you can’t have what you want then neither can he. You can stay up all night, just staring and glaring at each other contemptuously. You are happy to let all that mutual disdain simmer through its achingly slow burn.

“Really?” Felix says. “Do we have to do this tonight?”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say.

“Right.” He laughs dryly but sits gingerly on his side of the bed. He smiles, his eyes crinkling sweetly with pleasure. His hair is getting longer again, sweeping his neck, and you watch as he delicately tucks some behind his ear. He leans on one arm, looking at you. “I’ll ask you nicely then, sweetheart.”

Ooh, that’s a low blow and he knows it. The word sweetheart always sounds so rich in his mouth, his accent softening the heart of it. Hopefully he misses the way you melt, but you doubt it.

His smile only deepens.

“Please, please get ready for bed,” he says. “It’s been a long day, yeah? And we’re both so tired. Come on. Let’s go. Just need some rest I think. Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

You do not move.

You hear him sigh, a melodic sound. He runs his hand through his hair again.

“All right,” he says, soulfully. “All right. Fine.”

You hear the sharper inflection in his tone but you react a moment too late. Your bed is big, big enough you could starfish without even brushing his side of the bed, so it takes you a second to scamper to the opposite side.

That second is too long. Felix reaches out and grabs you by the calf, dragging you across the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, kicking at him to no avail. “I’ll phone my dad!”

He is completely undeterred by your dramatics, only sighing when he hauls you over his lap.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I’m allowed to use, uhhh, what’d he say… discretion… mm… to discipline you if I think I need to.” He puts his phone within your reach. It is not a genuine gesture of goodwill so much as it is taunting you because you both know your father would take his side. “Well?” he asks. “Do you want to phone him?”

“I hate you,” you say.

“I know,” he replies. “Sorry.”

He sounds like he means it, though it’s hard to believe him when he flicks up your dress and swings his open palm across your ass. His hand comes down four more times before he neatly fixes your skirt again.

“Bed time?” he asks brightly, like everything has been solved with no problem.

You crawl off his lap while grumbling irritably, doing your best to ignore the smarting on your behind when you turn over to glare at him. He is just smiling at you, that thin-lipped way he smiles with dry humour.

“I hate you,” you say again.

He waves his hand, gesturing the vaguest, blandest sentiment of meh with its wiggle.

“I’m just doing my job,” he says for the millionth time.

“Really?” you reply with as much sarcasm as he usually gives. He hears it, tilting his head like a curious cat, as if he has no idea why you could possibly be upset with him – though the stupid little upturn to his lips tells you that he knows exactly why.

You hate him. You really, really do hate him. You have never hated anyone the way you hate him and you want to shout it from the roof. But you can’t do that. You can only say it to his face in private, in whatever way you can.

You reach without warning, cupping the bulge between his legs and finding a lot more than a denim crinkle. His gaze darkens, his hand covering yours warningly, though he doesn’t lift it away.

You adopt a saccharine sweet tone when you speak.

“Do you tell my daddy that when you discipline me you get hard?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He moves your hand to his thigh instead, shaking his head.

“Stop being silly,” he says. “Go get ready for bed.”

Your eyes follow him as he stands. He doesn’t get far when you grab his belt loop and tug him back. Felix has fast reflexes and is incredibly coordinated, so you find it hard to believe you sincerely bested him, but he stumbles as if you did. He stands where you want him, where he’s close enough for you to kneel on the bed and press your face right against his bulge.

He says your name in a warning voice, his already deep voice dropping more.

“I wonder…” you say, nuzzling your nose against the ridge in the denim, where you can feel him hard and getting harder still. “When my daddy asks you what we do all day,” you say, flicking your eyes up to his, “do you tell him your dick spends more time in my mouth than in your pants?”

His nostrils flare with his next breath.

You smile, victorious.

“He still thinks you’re his perfect soldier, doesn’t he?” you ask. “You can do no wrong. Little does he know…”

“I do my job,” Felix says. “And I do a good job. Okay? That’s all that matters.”

You start to open your mouth, one hand climbing towards his fly. You stop with a gasp when he fists a chunk of your hair, tugging your head away from him. It sends a hot shock rippling through you, flooding you with the recollection of all the times he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, the times he cupped your head and put himself in your mouth despite knowing better, the number of times he fucked between your pretty lips and forgot to be proper, cursing so much it was practically poetry.

This time he guides you away and you whimper miserably. He does not loosen his grip, his fingers threading closer to your scalp so it both hurts less and holds stronger. He knows better than to just let go. He knows you perfectly. You glare at him.

“Look at me,” he says, because your gaze dropped to his bulge again. “I said look at me.” He tugs your hair so you obey, giving him your most annoyed expression. “You’re listening, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’re going to go to your closet. Get ready for bed. Sleep. You’re going to do that,” his voice turns frighteningly pleasant, “or I’m going to carry you over there and get you ready myself.”

“Like when we were leaving the club tonight?” you ask just as sweetly. “And you put me over your shoulder then, oops, something happened when we were in the limo, didn’t it?”

He lets go of you, exhaling tiredly in a high-pitched breath.

“Where did all your pretty rings go, Felix?” you ask, reaching for his bare hand, usually adorned with rings. “Did they fall on the floor in the limo when you decided you had to shove your hand up my skirt?”

Leaving the club, you were both wired. Felix was honestly justified in breaking that guy’s arm. You purposefully chose the creepiest, shadiest guy in the club to lead on, knowing Felix would appear two seconds later to rescue you. He always does. No one else ever pays you any personal attention and your life is too complicated for romance, so you thrive on the feeling of someone caring enough to always find you – even if it’s literally his job.

You also like getting mad at him for overreacting, but you like his overreactions. Him twisting and breaking that creep’s arm honestly turned you on. It also got Felix all worked up, a bit pissed because you were being irresponsible again but nonetheless heated. You thought for sure he’d take you home and go crazy and fuck you in the foyer. Instead he put up the limo divider and one-by-one removed his rings, giving you ample time to refuse before he covered your mouth tightly and slid his other hand up between your thighs.

Of course, despite bringing you to the edge several times, he never let you finish. Because he’s the worst.

And now you’re all worked up and he’s shirtless and being a stupid, pretty, two-faced bitch.

“I—” you start.

He rolls his eyes and says, “I know. I know. You hate me. Now go.”

You get up, stomping all the way to your walk-in closet. You can’t even slam the door because it’s a sliding one, but you make the biggest possible demonstration of closing it anyway.

You get ready for bed. You briefly consider dressing provocatively or even strolling out there naked, but in the end you decide to just dress in your ugly, comfy, over-sized t-shirt and march angrily back into the room.

Felix is gone when you return, probably off to double-check the house security one last time before joining you. You could try climbing out the window and down the terrace, just to be ridiculous, but he’ll catch up sooner than later and be even more annoying about it. So you get into bed and turn off the lights, laying down with a huff, blankets pulled up to your chin.

You get a bit dozy before Felix returns, the creaking door snapping you awake. You look over your shoulder and watch him finally shuck the jeans. He gets into bed in his boxers, removing his earrings once under the covers. He puts on the bedside table, then double-checks his gun is in the drawer, then and then only then does he lay down.

The big bed leaves an ocean of space between you. You roll over to face him. His eyes are closed but there’s no way he is already asleep.

“Felix,” you whisper, even though the big house is empty, “I’m cold.”

“There’s another blanket in the closet,” he says without opening his eyes.

You slide across the bed, close enough to reach out and put a hand on his chest. He opens his eyes and stares straight up.

“I need a cuddle,” you say. “Or I’ll have nightmares.”

“You’re not a child anymore,” he says.

That is maybe one thing you miss about the time before you and Felix started… this. When things were still innocent between you, he would often let you snuggle up with him. Now, he keep his distance. Now, he doesn’t hug or hold you.

So no one does.

“We’re still young,” you say, a dumb argument, but you’re tired and out of ideas.

“I was never as young as you,” he grumbles, more to himself than you. He seems to realize what he said and shakes his head. He pats your hand on his chest then rolls over, leaving his back to you.

You slowly return your hand to yourself, staring at the back of his head with an uncharacteristic prickling of tears.

Felix doesn’t talk about his life before this. You just know that it was somehow worse. Worse than being a watchdog. Worse than giving up years of his life to protect someone else. Worse than the times your father wanted to discipline you but learned that if he hit you directly you would just patch yourself up and move on, but if he hit Felix then you would break down and offer anything to make him stop.

You can see a couple faded scars from those times, faint lines that cross his back, remnants of old belt lashings. You touch one now, tracing your finger lightly from one end to the other. You watch a shiver roll down his spine. He doesn’t turn around.

Giving up, you roll away, back to your distant side of the bed. You close your eyes and will yourself to sleep, but it just makes you well up with tears. You sniffle, rubbing your nose messily on the back of your arm.

Fabric rustles. You suck in a breath when Felix slides up behind you, pulling you into the middle of the bed where he holds you snugly in his arms. You immediately roll to face him, throwing a leg over his hip and burying your face in his neck.

“Sweetheart,” he says, nothing else.

“I hate you,” you say, then press a kiss just under his jaw.

“I know.” He cups the back of your head as your kisses move down his neck. “I know.”

You make it to the middle of his chest before he turns you onto your back and gets up over you. He kisses you properly, thumbs wiping your tears as his mouth makes you forget about the reason you cried at all. All that matters is kissing him back, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him close as possible. His sounds of pleasure are so deep and rough and rumbling.

“Fuck me, please, please,” you say, pushing your fingers into his hair.

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You know we can’t do that,” he says.

“We’ve done it before,” you say, purposefully canting your hips to rub against him, reminding him you are still so hot and wet from his finger-fucking, that only stupid underwear keeps you apart. It has the desired effect, his brow furrowing as he holds himself still above you. You peck his lips and string your arms around his neck. “You know I’m on birth control now for that reason,” you say, a little sweetly, smiling up at him. “Remember?”

He drops his face in the crook of your neck and makes an even crazier sound, shaking his head.

“That was very, very irresponsible of us, you know,” he says.

“Mhm,” you say, sliding your hand down his body to his waistband. “It really was. But it felt good, didn’t it? Dangerous. Coming inside me like that.”

Felix is right; that incident was very irresponsible. You had already started your little cat-and-mouse game and ran out of condoms one night. Because the two of you only have sex with each other, when that happened, you usually just fooled around until he pulled out.

That time was… a lot. You were pressed so tightly together and you were being painfully quiet because you weren’t home alone. It was such a stupid time to mess around, but common sense leaves you when Felix is involved.

That feeling is mutual. Felix knew better too. If he got you pregnant… the fallout with your father would be catastrophic for both of you. Still, for that moment he was inside you, with your fingers laced together and pressed by your head, with your legs tight around him and his face in your neck, nothing else seemed to exist. You were two normal people who were allowed to do whatever they wanted with whoever they wanted. It was a breathless, momentary fantasy, holding him tight and telling him to come, shuddering at the noise he made as he did just that. You didn’t even panic after the fact. You let the moment linger for as long as it could, still pretending you were normal, still pretending it was fine.

You started birth control soon after, telling your father it was to regulate your period. He waved it off, not wanting to hear more.

Your father has truly never suspected a thing. He doesn’t see the people around him as people, just objects, so it makes sense that he sees nothing in Felix but a soldier. He doesn’t know anything about Felix. Doesn’t know the pattern of his freckles or how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles. Doesn’t know he has a sweet tooth and will dump a thing of sugar in nearly everything. Doesn’t know what he finds funny, doesn’t know what makes him sad, doesn’t know anything at all.

You drag your calf up the back of his leg.

“Felix,” you say.

He gives you no chance to say more. One second you are in limbo, the very next he has shoved down both his boxers and your underwear and is already pressing into you. Only nonsense leaves your lips after that, your eyes closing as he works your body like a familiar and well-loved instrument. He knows it as well as you do. As you do his. It’s easy to work him up, to get him as close as you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, changing position so he’s kneeling. He puts one of your legs up against his chest, levelling you with an amused smile. “You’re trying to get me to finish first,” he says.

“What? Noooo…” Your giggle turns into a gasp. You can be as loud as you want but you bite your fist anyway, hiccupping with a choked back sob of pleasure when he finds an angle that makes you see stars.

“Yes, you are,” he says. “But you won’t win.”

“I will,” you say.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “Sure.”

He makes you come twice before he does. He even starts pushing you towards a third but you are so oversensitive that it makes tears fall. He cups your chin and looks at you, cursing.

“You’re so mean,” you say, smiling through your tears. “Getting off to me crying.”

“I’m—not—I just—”

“Liar,” you tease. “You totally are.”

He just giggles. Then he flips a switch and goes from cute to something else, grabbing your throat and fucking into your oversensitive pussy so good and hard that you cry out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he says. “Got you. Got you. I—”

You kiss him and he comes, sinking into you with dick and tongue and breath, filling you and surrounding you.

You hold him close, arms tight around him, his sweaty forehead pressed to yours. When he tries to lift away, you pull him back, making him laugh softly.

“Stay,” you say, and repay his torture by squeezing him inside you, knowing it will make him twitch and jerk with oversensitivity of his own.

“You never make it easy for me, do you,” he says with no animosity.

You shake your head and smile like you’re proud of that. He laughs then kisses you. The kiss is good and thorough and sweet, completely loving, affectionate. It gets your heart racing despite everything you just did. You rest your hands on his chest and gently push him back.

“I still hate you,” you say, because you have to say it, because the opposite would be too dangerous to ever say. You can’t even let that word enter your thoughts, certainly never let it leave your lips. If you held that word in your mouth for even a second, you would become addicted to it. So you glare at him with all passion you can muster and say, “I hate you so much.” You sniffle when he wipes your tears away. You turn your face. “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.”

“I know,” he says in a strained voice. He presses his forehead to your temple and exhales. “I know, sweetheart.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #felix x reader #skz x reader

4K notes · View notes

springtyme · 3 months

Note

farleigh start x f!reader

make it based on the party scene where he sniffs the “nose candy” off the girls hand

PLS THE FARLEIGH GIRLS ARE STARVING😫

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 ♡

Thank you for the request ♡ I know you didn’t asked for smut per se, but I got a little carried away. I hope that’s okay, and hopefully can help feed the Farleigh girls a little ♡

Farleigh Start x afab!reader || Masterlist || Farleigh playlist

summary: You can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him. Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

word count: 4.5k

warning/tags: smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Drug use (cocaine). Vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, cum swallowing. Enemies to lovers (kinda?). I had pan4bi in mind when I wrote this, but readers sexually didn’t really end up getting mentioned, but Farleigh is definitely pan/queer like in canon. This whole thing kinda started out as one thing but turned into something completely different, so just to clear any possible confusion, Reader is best friends with Venetia, being childhood friends with her and Felix, and that is how she knows Fairleigh. Reader are enrolled in a university in Cambridge, unlike Fairleigh who is in Oxford. No proofreading.

The dimly lit room is illuminated by a dazzling array of colourful lights, flickering and dancing in sync with the music. The deep reverberations of the bass are sending tremors through your body, a pulsating rhythm thumping within your chest, and even piercing your eardrums, but in the best way possible.

The scent of spilled drinks and way too expensive perfumes and colognes are hanging in the air, mixing with the distinct smell of sweat that, no matter what, or no matter how rich you are, you’ll never be able to avoid when this many people are in one place, drinking and dancing at once. It’s filling the space with a raw, primal energy, an energy which you can feel resonate within you, right into the very marrow of your bones.

You find yourself surrendering to the music, letting it guide your every movement as you roll your hips to the beat, grinding against the solid body behind you, enjoying the feeling of big strong hands on your waist. You don’t know his name and you like it that way. You’ve been needing this, it’s finally summer, you’re finally on break and away from Cambridge and you have every intent of enjoying it to the fullest.

As you let yourself be carried away by the music and the pulsating energy of the room, your eyes wander around the crowd. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your gaze meets the eyes of someone familiar, someone you had hoped to avoid, despite knowing it wouldn’t be possible.

As your gaze locks with his, a mix of emotions floods through you. A wave of annoyance washes over you, quickly followed by a surge of frustration.

Fucking Farleigh, the embodiment of everything you despise, stands across the room, his tall frame towering over the crowd. He’s always been a thorn in your side, pushing your buttons and challenging you at every turn. The tension between you has always been palpable, a constant battle of wits and wills.

The memories of countless arguments and bitter exchanges flood your mind, reminding you of all the reasons why you can’t stand him. Farleigh, with his arrogant smirk, like he always knows something that you don’t know, and his condescending remarks, has always managed to get under your skin. And now, here he is, invading your sanctuary of escape.

And yet, and this is something you would never admit out loud to anyone, you have always felt strangely drawn to him, a magnetic pull that you’ve never been able to fully understand. A complicated connection, really, filled with both desire and deep annoyance.

You tear your eyes away, trying to regain your composure and ignore the magnetic pull drawing you towards him. You focus your attention back on the music, trying to lose yourself in its enchanting melody and forget about Farleigh’s presence. The pulsating beats and the heat of the body pressing against yours conspire to distract you, urging you to let go and revel in the moment. You move with more intensity, swaying your hips and allowing your body to glide effortlessly with the rhythm.

But despite your attempts to ignore him, Farleigh’s image persists in your mind, and it is as if you can feel his piercing eyes on you, burning your skin. The curiosity battles with your annoyance, leaving you conflicted and uncertain.

As the music reaches a crescendo, you can’t resist the pull any longer. With a mix of defiance and determination, you break away from the stranger behind you, making your way through the crowd in Farleigh’s direction. Not because you want to speak to him, of course not, you just want to find Venetia, Farleigh just happens to stand right next to the door.

As you approach Farleigh, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes follow your every move. A flicker of amusement dances in his gaze, as if he knows the effect he has on you. Just as you’re about to pass him, Farleigh steps in front of you, a sly smile playing on his lips, the strobe lights flickering across his face, highlighting his features with pink and purple, and you feel how a warm flutter swoops through your stomach. Someone who is that annoying really don’t have any business being that handsome.

You try to step past him, but he moves with a frustrating grace, blocking your path once more. “What do you want, Farleigh?” you huff, your tone laced with impatience.

But he doesn’t answer you at first, instead, he just keeps the weird little dance going, with you trying to push past him to get through the door, and him stepping in front of you, blocking your way, until you finally take a step back, glaring up at him and you can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him like this.

Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it fucking frustarites you.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is a low, velvety whisper that resonates deep within your core. “Long time no see,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The scent of his cologne invades your senses, stirring up a confusing mixture of attraction and deep irritation.

With a deep breath, you muster up all the strength you have and respond, trying to match his nonchalant tone. “I was actually hoping to keep it that way,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Farleigh’s smirk widens slightly, and you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Well, that I find a little hard to believe. We are in my house, aren’t we?” he remarks, leaning in closer, his voice dripping with a hint of sarcasm.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that it would only fuel his satisfaction. Instead, you take a moment to study him. His sharp features are highlighted by the colourful lights surrounding you. Despite your frustration with him, there’s no denying that he has a certain magnetism that draws people in. “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s your house.” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “More like uncle’s house, isn’t it?”

Farleigh chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Touché,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “But you can’t deny that it’s my domain.”

You scoff, unable to resist a small smirk. “Domain? More like your little playground.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of challenge in his gaze. “Funny, because I always thought you were the one who loved a good game.”

The air between you crackles with tension, the familiar dance of wit and banter that has always characterised your interactions. Despite your annoyance with Farleigh, there’s a part of you that thrives on the exhilaration of this verbal sparring. “Maybe I do, but I have no interest in playing with you.”

Farleigh’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. “No interest at all?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve always seemed to enjoy our little tête-à-têtes.”

You resist the urge to let your guard down, refusing to let him see how much his words affect you. “Just because I enjoy a challenge doesn’t mean I enjoy dealing with you,” you reply, your tone sharp and dismissive.

Farleigh’s gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to uncover a hidden truth. “Is that so?” he says, his voice low and velvety. “Because I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I think you actually enjoy the tension between us, the push and pull.”

You scoff, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that his words are hitting too close to home. “You think too highly of yourself,” you retort, attempting to sound unaffected by his observation.

Farleigh takes a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the space between you. “Maybe,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I also think you’re intrigued by me. Admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know what it would be like to give in to that pull.”

Your heart races at his words, a mixture of anger and desire swirling within you. “You’re delusional,” you snap, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Farleigh’s expression softens, his eyes searching yours with a newfound tenderness. “Am I?” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. The intensity of his gaze leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to make sense of the conflicting emotions coursing through you. You’ve spent so long trying to resist him, to keep him at a distance, but now, in this moment, it feels impossible to deny the undeniable connection between you.

Farleigh leans in closer, his breath warming your ear as he speaks. “You can pretend all you want, but I see right through you.” His voice is laced with a mixture of confidence and mystery that sends a shiver down your spine. Suddenly, all the people around you disappear, the only thing that matters in that moment is the charged tension between you and Farleigh. It’s as if you’re existing in a world of your own, completely detached from reality.

You can’t resist the pull any longer. “Oh, can you now..?” You murmur, slowly, you reach out your hand to wipe a stray piece of glitter away from under his eye, letting your thumb gently graze his cheek. His eyes darken with a mix of surprise and anticipation, his lips parting slightly as if attempting to say something. But before a single word can escape, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a passionate, desperate kiss.

Everything around you fades away as the electricity between you ignites, the world falling away as you become enraptured by the intensity of the moment. All the pent-up frustration and desire explode in that single act of surrender and defiance.

In this moment, you can no longer deny the complicated connection that exists between you. The magnetic pull, the mix of desire and annoyance, it all becomes clearer as you lose yourself in the kiss. The room around you becomes a blur, the music and the crowd transformed into mere background noise.

The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless and gasping for air, but the connection remains. You meet Farleigh’s gaze, a smouldering fire burning in his eyes. And in that silent exchange, the tension and chemistry between you cannot be ignored any longer.

Farleigh’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and defiance in your expression. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you retort, trying to regain your composure. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Farleigh’s smile widens, and he takes a step closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Oh, it means something, alright,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a tantalising promise.

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a rush of anticipation flooding through you. As much as you want to deny it, there’s a part of you that craves the excitement and intensity that comes with being with Farleigh. You know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges along the way, but you can’t help but be drawn to him.

With a mix of determination and vulnerability, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Fine, it does mean something,” you whisper, your voice filled with both defiance and longing. As the words escape your lips, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The intensity between you and Farleigh has reached its breaking point, and you both know it. Without saying a word, you take Farleigh’s hand and lead him out of the room and through the big, crowded house searching for a place of solitude, finally finding it in the form of an unoccupied bathroom on the second floor.

The sounds of the party fade into the background as you step inside, the quietness amplifying the intensity of the moment. Farleigh takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and filled with a mix of concern and desire.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out.”

Farleigh’s lips curl into a knowing smile, the fiery desire in his eyes never wavering. He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you, his hand inching up to gently cup your cheek. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body.

In that moment, any last doubt or hesitation you might have felt fades away as the intense pull between you becomes undeniable. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the moment. His thumb caresses your cheek, and his voice, filled with a mixture of longing and assurance, whispers, “I’ll make it worth it.”

A surge of anticipation courses through your veins as Farleigh’s thumb brushes against your lips, tracing their outline with a delicate touch. Without even thinking, your own hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The air around you is heavy with desire and expectation.

As your lips collide once again, the passion between you ignites, consuming you both in a fiery haze. The bathroom echoes with the rapid beating of your hearts and the soft gasps that escape your lips. Farleigh’s kiss is both tender and intense, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that matches your own. This single act of surrender has unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, leaving you craving more.

You start to walk backwards, until your back gently bumps into the vanity cabinet of the sink, without breaking the kiss even once. You first break the kiss as Farleigh’s hands find your hips, helping you jump up the counter. Your already short dress, hiking even higher up your thigh as you spread your legs to let him step in between them. “You got any nose candy?” you pant, making Farleigh chuckle, his breath warm against your lips as he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I think you already know the answer, don’t you?” he replies, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small vial of white powder and setting it on the counter.

He carefully measures out a small amount of the powder, offering it to you on the back of his hand. You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. With only a very short flicker of hesitation, you lean in, snorting the powder through your nose. The effects are immediate, a surge of warmth and euphoria washing over you.

Farleigh takes your hand, putting the vial to it to make a line for himself, but you stop him before any of the coke has left the container. “No, here.” You say, placing your hand behind you on the counter and leaning back, exposing your bare collarbone, inviting him to snort the line off your skin. Farleigh’s eyes widen, clearly liking your suggestion, his gaze locked on the vulnerable expanse of your skin before a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, lining up a stripe for himself.

As he leans in, his breath tickles your skin. His fingers, delicate and precise, trace the line of the cocaine on your collarbone before he leans down, his lips brushing against your skin as he inhales the white powder. A shiver races through your body at the touch of his lips against your sensitive skin, the combination of the drug’s rush and Farleigh’s proximity sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You both linger in this moment, caught between desire and the heightened state induced by the substance. Everything in the bathroom seems to fade away as you focus on the connection between you and Farleigh - the electric current that flows between your bodies, the shared need for a temporary escape. Farleigh pulls back, his eyes dark and heavy with desire as he locks his gaze with yours.

“Come here,” you all but moan, making him chuckle. The lingering scent of his luxurious cologne fills the air, prompting you to inch closer on the countertop, savouring every breath of him. You reach out, pulling Farleigh closer as you crash your lips together once more, the kiss growing even more passionate and heated than before. And as the kiss deepens even more, Farleigh’s hands start to explore your body, one trailing up your thigh while the other gently cups your cheek. Your own hands roam eagerly over his frame, feeling the heat and power emanating from him.

The bathroom becomes a blur of sensations, the feel of his hands on you, the taste of his lips on yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne surrounding you. Time seems to lose all meaning as you lose yourself in the moment, giving in to the intoxicating combination of pleasure and desire. As he finally breaks the kiss, his lips trail a path down your neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses in their wake. The heat between you builds with each passing moment, every touch and caress leaving you craving for more.

As Farleigh’s lips find their way to the sensitive curve of your collarbone, you let out a soft gasp, a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. His hands roam over your thigh, inching higher and higher, until he reaches the delicate fabric of your now soaked panties, carefully teasing and brushing against your most sensitive area. Your breath hitches in anticipation as his touch sends a surge of arousal coursing through you.

Unable to contain your desire any longer, you guide his hand to where you need him most, sliding your panties to the side. His fingers waste no time in exploring, gently parting your slick folds and finding your throbbing clit. Soft moans escape your lips as he circles his fingers around your sensitive bud, the pleasure building with every stroke. “Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers huskily, his voice laced with desire. His fingers skillfully dance along your swollen nub, expertly coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

The bathroom becomes a sanctuary of pleasure and intimacy as Farleigh expertly works his fingers, gradually increasing the rhythm and pressure. You tilt your head back, surrendering yourself completely to the ecstasy flooding your senses. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to his hand, eager for more. The need for release consumes you, the overwhelming sensation heightening with each passing second. Farleigh, ever attuned to your desires, gives you exactly what you crave. His fingers quicken their pace, increasing the pressure against your throbbing clit, using his other hand to push, first one, then two, fingers into your craving cunt, pumping into you, while still working your clit.

Lost in the blissful haze, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers, signalling your imminent release. Every touch becomes electrifying as you chase that elusive peak. And when the wave of pleasure crashes over you, it’s all-consuming. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your moans echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, his voice raw with desire as he continues to ride out your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure with his skilled fingers. He keeps his touch steady and relentless, expertly drawing out every ounce of bliss from your pulsing core. It’s a relentless dance of pleasure and sensation, leaving you gasping for breath as the ecstasy courses through your veins.

Farleigh withdraws his fingers, the absence of his touch leaves you yearning for more. He brings them to his mouth sucking off your juices. “Fuck… you taste good, I think I need to get a better taste, baby” he smirks.

“Please, Farleigh,” you hate that you’re begging, but fuck how you need more of him. “N-need more…” you squirm a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Farleigh smirks again, unlike you he is clearly very glad to hear how pleading and desperate you are for him.

He sinks to his knees before you and slowly pulls your soaked panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable before him all the while keeping eye contact with you. Without a word, he leans in, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. His lips brush against your inner thighs, teasingly light and gentle, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As his mouth moves closer to your throbbing core, you grip the edge of the counter, desperately trying to steady yourself.

The anticipation is almost unbearable, the teasing kisses and licks making you ache for more. Finally, his lips press against your clit, his tongue immediately finding its rhythm as he expertly swirls and flicks, drawing moans of pleasure from deep within you. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, building the pleasure to dizzying heights. He alternates between delicate licks and sucking motions, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. The sensation is overwhelming, and you lose yourself in a haze of pleasure.

The sounds of your moans fill the room, your pleasure echoing off the walls. You can feel the pressure building inside you, your climax approaching rapidly. And just when you think you can’t hold on any longer, the dam breaks, and you surrender to the powerful waves of your orgasm. Stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your body convulses with pleasure, your voice reaching heights you didn’t know were possible.

Farleigh doesn’t let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive clit, prolonging your ecstasy until you’re completely spent. As the waves of pleasure subside, he pulls away, a satisfied grin on his face as he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your essence. You struggle to catch your breath, your entire body still trembling from the intensity of your release as Farleigh gets up from the floor. You close your eyes for a second, as you take in the reality you’re living in now, a reality where you have been eaten out by Farleigh fucking Start, and now in this moment you almost can’t recall why you ever disliked him.

As your body slowly comes down from the heights of pleasure, you open your eyes again, breathing heavily, to find Farleigh staring at you with hunger in his eyes. His own desire is evident, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Reaching out, you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Your turn,” you say, your voice vibrating with anticipation.

A mischievous smile plays on his lips as he realises what you have in mind. Without a word, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a toned chest. He shrugs off his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor as he confidently steps out of his shoes. Every movement he makes is deliberate, a display of raw sensuality that only intensifies your desire for him.

With a mixture of excitement and confidence, you jump down from the counter and step toward Farleigh, your legs feel like jelly, but you don’t let that stop you. Your hands find their way to the waistband of his pants, fingers skillfully unfastening them. As his pants pool at his feet, you run your hands up his muscular thighs, feeling the contours of his body beneath your touch.

Your gaze flickers upward, locking eyes with Farleigh, the intensity in his gaze mirrored in your own. Without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees, fully engulfed in the moment. You trail kisses along his inner thighs, teasing and taunting him. His breath hitching with every kiss, the anticipation in the room building with each passing moment.

As you reach his hardened cock, you wrap your fingers around him, feeling his heat and the pulsing desire that emanates from him. He is big; girthy, with a nice vein lining the underside of his shaft. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eliciting a low growl from his throat, before you pool spit in your mouth, letting it fall from your mouth and down his shaft. With a combination of skill and eagerness, your mouth encloses around him, the heat and wetness enveloping him.

As your lips slide up and down his length, you can feel him growing even harder, his breaths becoming more ragged. You use your hand in synchronisation with your mouth, working him tirelessly, determined to bring him to the brink of release, moaning around his cock while breathy praises leaves his mouth.

The bathroom becomes a symphony of moans and heavy breaths as the pleasure builds between you. Your lips and tongue work magic, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. And when he finally succumbs to the overwhelming ecstasy, he spills himself into your waiting mouth, his moans of pleasure echoing off the bathroom walls.

You take him in, savouring the taste of him as his release warms your mouth as you swallow him up. It’s an act of trust and vulnerability, something you, just an hour ago, could never have imagined to be between the two of you. As he finally catches his breath, his hands gently lift your chin, guiding you back to your feet.

Your eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between you. “You know, uh…” you start, Taking in a deep breath. “Venetia asked me to stay for a bit, I’ll be here at Saltburn for the next two weeks.” you whisper, letting the implication of your words hang in the air for a moment.

Farleigh’s eyes widen with surprise, a mixture of excitement and hope flickering in his gaze. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can see the longing in his eyes.

“Two weeks?” he repeats, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and anticipation. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You smile, a mix of mischief and desire in your gaze. “I’m saying that we have two weeks to explore this... connection between us,” you reply, your voice filled with a tantalising promise. “But let’s make one thing clear, Farleigh. This doesn’t mean that I like you now,” and you hate how it isn’t really true.

Farleigh’s smile widens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I guess I have two weeks to change that.”

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