#How to write a frat boy

[silverwhittlingknife]

hi Silver! o/ because that fanart made me wonder - would you happen to know when/where Dick's stuffed elephant plush Zitka turns up in the comics?

GREETINGS CAM <3333 THAT ART WAS SO CUTE

Yeah, I think your instincts are right - it's a truly adorable bit of transformative fandom, but I'm 95% percent sure it's not comics canon. Barbara has canon plushies, but I don't think anyone else does.

I got kinda invested in the investigation (it's hard to prove a negative!) and I ended up typing out an entire History of Elinore/Zitka, so, uh, if you're curious, meet me below the cut for:

Where does Elinore / Zitka - the animal - appear in comics?

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

Where does Elinore / Zitka appear in comics?

We're gonna go in chronological order!

Dick's circus elephant friend was first created for practical reasons: in Batman 436, Marv Wolfman does a big expanded flashback to Dick's circus backstory as a way to subtly show us Tim before officially introducing him (so that we can have a technically-solvable mystery-of-Tim's-identity in LPoD). In this comic, there's an elephant named Elinore who loves Dick:

Aww. Such a cute elephant!

Batman 436 comes out in August 1989. New Titans 60 comes out a few months later, in November, and guess what? When Dick visits the circus, he is suddenly surprised by an unexpected blast from the past! It turns out that even though it's been years, Elinore still remembers him!

Here's the part where Elinore remembers Dick:

SUCH a cute elephant. I love her.

(Guess who else still remembers Dick even though it was so long ago. Guess which other character is about to be an unexpected blast from the past. Guess which character Elinore is directly paralleling guess guess guess sorry everything is about Dick and Tim in my mind but I can focus I swear)

Four years later, in 1993, Batman: The Animated Series retells Dick's origin story. They like and keep Wolfman's elephant, but they change her name to Zitka:

Wolfman doesn't return to the elephant beyond those two appearances, and a few years down the line, New Titans gets cancelled and Wolfman's not writing Dick anymore anyway. So the animal gets abandoned for a while, until Devin Grayson, a fan of both Wolfman and B:tAS, revives the Wolfman-era Titans team in JLA/Titans and then the ongoing series Titans 1999.

Grayson then brings back the elephant in a flashback to Dick's past in Titans 16 (Jun 2000), where she imports the B:tAS name. Sometimes I'm skeptical of TV-to-comics imports, but honestly, I endorse this one. You lose the alliteration, which is a shame, but IMO Zitka is a better elephant name than Elinore.

Here's Dick with the newly-christened Zitka in Titans 16:

Grayson also briefly references the elephant in Gotham Knights 20 and - in a final angsty callback - in Nightwing 88 (Feb 2004), where Zitka tries futilely to comfort Dick in the midst of his trauma conga line:

... And... honestly, I think that's it for comic appearances? The two Wolfman comics plus the three Grayson comics.

Both Wolfman and Grayson are writing multiple titles - Batman, New Titans, Titans, Gotham Knights, and Nightwing between the two of them, spanning a big chunk of Dick's post-Crisis canon - and both writers use the elephant for heartwarming moments of nostalgia, which means if you're doing a post-Crisis readthrough for Dick, Elinore/Zitka feels memorable. But I don't think she actually shows up that much.

For post-2011, I am not as well-informed - throwing this out to the dash? anyone know? - but I feel like Zitka the heartwarming symbol of Dick's heartwarming circus past is, uh, thematically very at odds with the Court of Owls evil!circus vibes, so my instinct is that this story element was almost certainly dropped in the reboot.

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

In WFA, yes; in main comics continuity, no. Technically, I have not read every comic ever published, so I could be wrong!! But I don't think so.

Below, find my rambling reasoning on the tonal vibes of pre-Crisis, post-Crisis, and post-2011, and why this particular story element doesn't seem right to me for the first two.

Pre-Crisis (...okay, mostly the Silver Age): stuffed animal, yes or no?

tl;dr no, requires too much background knowledge on the part of the reader, plus the elephant wasn't a thing until later

Elinore doesn't get created until post-Crisis, but also just generally, pre-Crisis callbacks are more along the lines of this reference in Batman 129 (published in 1960), where, wow, Batman and Robin are hunting jewel thieves - and it turns out Robin recognized this strongman! BUT HOW?!

The comic goes on to recap Dick's entire origin story in flashback, on the assumption that you may not know it.

(BTW, if you'd like to know more about Haly's Circus throughout the years, nightwingology has a great post here summarizing a lot of fun plotlines and characters!)

Basically: Silver Age comics are very self-consciously episodic and kid-friendly; they're not generally gonna do overly-elaborate callbacks because they don't know what comics their kid readers may have randomly picked up or remember.

By the time of post-Crisis, comic books were being written for an adult audience buying from the direct market, i.e. readers who are collecting whole runs & don't need or want Dick's origin story to be recapped to us in full every time it's referenced. That's why in post-Crisis, we get stuff like "hey, neat, this particular soda brand is getting mentioned in several different books!!" or "in order to understand this story arc, buy SIXTEEN DIFFERENT COMICS in FIVE DIFFERENT RUNS and read them ALL ACCORDING TO A NUMBERED ORDER and also you better be following the individual plotlines and recognize these five minor characters who we don't bother to introduce!! Good luck!!" But the elaborate post-Crisis plotlines - and subtler worldbuilding like a stuffed animal callback to Dick's backstory - don't make a lot of story sense UNLESS you're imagining your readers as completionist adult fans.

So IMO a stuffed animal wouldn't be a pre-Crisis thing unless it was The Episodic Story Of the Week, and I don't think a stuffed animal is action-adventure-y enough for the fast-paced storytelling of the Silver Age. (Unless it, like, came to life and tried to eat you or something.)

Post-Crisis: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr: no, Dick's a manly tough guy, he's not gonna have a stuffed animal, that'd be lame, like something Tim might do

Part of the edgy grimdark adult vibes in 80s/90s comics is that some characters who used to be kinda silly & goofy & lighthearted - like Batman and Robin - get reimagined as Serious and Angsty and Edgy in a Tough Cool Manly Brooding Way. This massively affects characterization for Bruce, Dick, and Bruce and Dick's relationship.

(I obviously love this change & love the tense Bruce-and-Dick interactions, but plenty of fans of the earlier fluffy comics really disliked the edgy retcons of Miller / Wolfman / Starlin / et al.)

The upshot is that post-Crisis is a period when you could have a recurring reference like a stuffed elephant, but you wouldn't have a stuffed elephant, not for Dick. I think a toy like that would be too cutesy / childish / effeminate to give a male character in post-Crisis, unless you were poking fun at him.

Now, you could probably let Tim have a stuffed animal, because Tim is sometimes cool but also sometimes a tryhard loser who is faking being cool and not entirely pulling it off (see e.g. the Robin comic where he practices tough-guy faces in the mirror, or the Teen Titans comic where Conner discovers his cringy Enya CD, or when he's fanboying over Connor and it's awkward, etc etc.). A stuffed animal would be deeply embarrassing, and you'd have to be careful to compensate by having Tim do something cool afterward - but Tim's character concept allows for "he's kind of a loser sometimes."

But Dick isn't!! In post-Crisis, Dick's a tough / impressive / "cool guy" character, the kind of guy anyone would want to be, even in the flashbacks where he's Robin, and even in the stories where he's more lighthearted than angsty. It'd be kinda lame for Dick to have a stuffed elephant, so he wouldn't. I feel like Dick would be more likely to poke fun at it if someone had one, like when he's making fun of Wally for liking the Hardy Boys. Dick could have a Batman action figure, at most, and if he had one he would have it ironically.

Basically: in post-Crisis, a male character hugging a stuffed elephant feels more likely to be a punchline to me, not something poignant. (Even with Tim, Tim could have an embarrassing stuffed animal, but he couldn't hug it when sad - that's too far. Maybe Booster Gold might do this. Probably he wouldn't, but spiritually, he would. Sorry Booster ilu! <3)

Instead, Dick instinctively deals with his inner turmoil like the TORTURED ACTION HERO he is: by punching things and brooding and yelling and joining the mob and sleeping on rooftops and going on obsessive secret missions and acquiring Angsty Stubble!! Just like Batman!

(Technically I don't know if Bruce ever joined the mob but you know he would.)

Anyway as you know this is my favorite continuity and I am poking fun affectionately, but uh, yeah sdfsfdsfs. No stuffed animals.

Post-2011 / Infinite Frontier / Wayne Family Adventures: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr it's in WFA! Probably not anywhere else, but it could be.

Post-2011 stuff tends to be cutesier overall, most of all in the current Infinite Frontier era. So I don't feel like this would be tonally out-of-line with IF comics. Taylor tends to go for more meme-y references rather than fanfic references, though.

So the obvious best fit is WFA, which is aiming for a rough approximation of Silver Age family-friendly vibes - wholesome, episodic plots, Teaching Good Moral Lessons For The Youth, etc. - plus lots of Easter eggs for fanfic readers and some comic references.

And look, here we are:

Aww.

Whew - that's everything I could find!

Anyway as you can probably tell, I LOVE the elephant, so this was a very entertaining rabbit hole to go down, thank you <3

[we-are-inevitable]

and the sun still sets the same // ch. 1 - javid

Summary:

“I get out of class at 5:30 on Wednesday,” David says, looking at the planner section of his notebook. “Do you wanna meet at 6 in the library, then? Figure everything out?”

Jack nods. “Yeah, sure. We can, uh, maybe bring some ideas. For the debate, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” David repeats, giving Jack an unimpressed look. His head tilts just slightly to the left, and Jack watches David’s gaze look him up and down, like he’s sizing him up. Like he’s looking for his next meal, and Jack is the sorry piece of shit in his way. “Text me. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

---

Jack and David live in different worlds. Frat parties and gay bars, chapter meetings and drag queens, beer pong and passenger-seat weed- they're a match doomed to fail, and they're waiting for the wreckage.

But maybe they're more similar than they seem. Maybe they just need some time to figure it out.

Maybe it comes down to decisions and choices, masks and veils, and how to straddle the line between them.

Author's Note:

HIIIIIII I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS!! happy pride and please accept this little love letter to the queers, the freaks, and the fags <3 may you have a safe and happy pride month!

if you enjoy this, please comment and let me know!! this au has been rotting my brain for weeks and i'm so excited to share with you all!

enjoy!!

Read On AO3!

[i-will-write]

Hey, do you have any resources for writing a character that’s well versed in business/tech bro speak? Or, I guess, any tips on how to write something like that in a way that doesn’t make my lack of knowledge obvious?

Sadly no 😔 anybody else here who can help?

[gumified]

STOP NO YOU GUYS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE POLL 😭 I FULLY CHECKED YESTERDAY AND MAFIA BOSS!TOJI WAS IN THE LEAD SO I DECIDED TO FINISH IT OFF TONIGHT BUT NOW I CHECK AND IT'S FRAT BOY!GOJO IWEUBIFBLWHI GUYSSSSS

[goldbiz]

I don't see why the gold is so hated on. You make it work. [ <- from Nova, who motions between their gold costumes. ]

❛ someone who gets it ! ❜ he hadn't intentionally meant to come across as suddenly enthusiastic about small talk but it stemmed from criticisms aimed at the whole gimmick. booster did not get why the gold was hated on. the gold was a staple. cutting-edge, iconic. maybe he was laying it on thick right now but once someone got him started--- good luck on shutting him up. ❛ people throwin' shade at the combo are just sleeping on it--- you're rocking it,  bro. ❜ now if this was a competition, he would have had a problem with the blue and gold--- that was his thing and marketing would have something to say, pertaining the topic to about rebranding. 

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

Things that actually happen in hunchback of notre dame, in no particular order

The book mostly is told from the POV of Pierre, a self-insert who is failed author and, I cannot stress this enough, utterly pathetic 

Quasimodo damaged his hearing as a teenager from years of bell ringing and now uses sign language whenever he can

There is a scene where Quasimodo and a fellow deaf guy have to have a conversation without using sign language because they’re in a courtroom and the jury doesn’t know sign. It goes about as well as you’d expect 

Frollo has a little brother, Jehan, who he raised after their parents died. Jehan is now a frat bro in college whose hobbies consist of getting drunk and being mean to Quasimodo. In his first scene Jehan complains about college DEI because an Italian guy got a scholarship he wanted. 

Esmeralda is accused of witchcraft because she taught her pet goat Djali how to do math

Djali may or may not be sapient. He can and does imitate human mannerisms to make fun of people on purpose. He does this while on trial. 

Yes. They tried the goat for witchcraft, too. 

Pierre writes a whole play riding on the pun of dolphin/Dauphin. Nobody likes it. 

Frollo is an alchemist and has a secret mad science lab where he writes on the walls

Jehan literally pulls a “buy my silence” and frollo gives him money to make him shut up

There’s a trio of catty girls who bully Esmeralda like it’s Mean Girls

Quasimodo and Frollo literally have Cryptid Status— Parisians circulate rumors that Quasimodo is either a familiar, a homunculus, or the result of demonic mpreg, and that Frollo is a wizard with wizard powers and/or a ghost

There is a little old woman who lives in a hole and shouts slurs at people. She has a tragic backstory. 

There is a homicidal con man/king of thieves named Clopin Troillefou (surname translation: The Fool of Fear) who deserves tumblr sexymanhood.

Pierre learns how to carry chairs with his teeth 

There’s an entire chapter dedicated to the layout of the streets of Paris in painstaking detail

There’s another chapter that is a rant about interior design 

Esmeralda and Pierre get platonically married due to Clopin’s murderous shenanigans. Pierre tries to make a move in her but ends up being more emotionally attached to Djali the goat than to her. I think that should be grounds for divorce

There is a scene where Pierre has to choose between helping Esmeralda escape or helping Djali. He picks Djali. 

Frollo hides from his own brother by laying face down in mud and playing dead. Somehow this works 

There is a Plot Significant Tiny Shoe. A Tiny Shoe Chekhov’s Gun. And Victor Hugo will not stop telling you just how Tiny this shoe is. 

There’s a soap opera style plot twist that involves a false accusation of cannibalism and the woman in the hole who shouts slurs

Quasimodo makes up a stupid little song that doesn’t even rhyme to confess his love to Esmeralda, who remains oblivious

He then attempts to demonstrate his affection via convoluted metaphors that involve props. She doesn’t get it. Boy please say what you mean

Frollo pulls the classic discord groomer tactic of threatening self-harm if Esmeralda doesn’t give in. 

Jehan rolls up to a party/rescue mission scheming session in Clopin’s secret hideout in full plate armor (how did he get that???), drunk off his ass, and acts like he owns the place. Everyone finds this so ridiculous that they just let him

Hugo goes on and on about how innocent and naive Esmeralda is but then casually reveals that Esmeralda carries a dagger on her person at all times to fend off assault. When Frollo attacks her and Quasi intervenes, she takes Quasi’s knife and almost kills Frollo (fair!) but he flees. She contains multitudes?

Frollo has a psychotic breakdown in the middle of a field surrounded by chickens and hallucinates skeletons everywhere 

For the first half of the book Esmeralda is like 70% sure Frollo is a ghost, not helped by his aforementioned Cryptid Status

Jehan eats a moldy piece of cheese off the ground 

Frollo tries to send Pierre on a suicide mission in drag. Pierre objects to the suicide part but not the drag part  

Clopin’s preferred weapon is a scythe, he’s very good at using it, and he sings when he fights. Again: sexyman potential. 

Victor Hugo has a foot fetish. I initially dismissed it as Frollo having a foot fetish until Victor Hugo included a foot fetish torture scene without any Frollo in it. So I can only conclude that the foot fetish is authorial in nature. Unfortunately the foot scenes are important to the plot. 

Frollo is canonically 36, he just aged like shit and is bald. The narrator will not stop telling you just how bald he is.

Despite being in full plate armor, Jehan gets splatted like a bug

Almost every named character dies. Djali the goat lives. 

[saturn-sends-hugs]

"Arcturus Beaming" UHHHH OK CRANE WIVES FAN. PERSON WITH GOOD TASTE IN MUSIC SPOTTED. that one right there officer. anyway for the wip game pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase tell me about either that one or whichever one you're most excited to talk about!!!!!

anyway bye. good job beating emperor ing first try btw

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA TY SIBLING i am. gaymer.

anyway yeah ummmmmmmm so! Arcturus Beaming is basically a song fic thats also VERY loosely inspired by an artwork of Hunter watching over an injured Echo on Pabu (if the fic turns out closer to the vibes of the og artwork then I'm definitely gonna link it cause OUGH its good).

It starts out and Echo is! shockingly! injured! and on Pabu being watched over by Hunter, and he's seeing just how good life has been to the rest of the Batch there. He's never considered leaving the fight or not being a soldier anymore, mostly due to a debt he feels he owes to Fives, (Fives died trying to save their brothers, Echo feels like he has to continue that fight no matter what it's doing to him) but he's starting to wonder if that's what he wants. Omega is growing up and he's missing it.

The fic focuses pretty much solely on Echo's internal conflict; whether or not being in the rebellion (at least full-time) is what he wants, or just something he thinks he has to do. (He did hurt a lot of his brothers after all. Shouldn't he be trying to make up for that now?) Hunter helps him through some of it and while the other characters are there, they're mostly just relaxing on Pabu while Echo tries to understand what he's feeling.

It's a pretty chill, character-exploration-y fic, and is 100% just an excuse to tie my favorite character to my favorite song lol but!! I think it would be a really fun one and probably just something I should write for the sake of writing more :P

[tonycries]

FIRST masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 06/02/24 up until 01/10/24 — for my recent works click on my SECOND MASTERLIST <3

Men In Uniform Do It Best!

Dirty Lil' Secrets

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Give Me Tough Love

Never Ever Seen This Before!

We Don't Have No Babies!

Like A Fever

Bad Things (To You)

Prettier When Messy!

Care For You!

Green-eyed Monster

So Lonely In My Mansion!

Kiss Me More!

Girl, I Do This Often

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Sl*t Me Out!

Match My Freak!

WAP!

R U Mine?

Hot To Go!

Girl, You Earned It!

I'm A BIG Stepper!

BODY-ODY!

SOOO ANXIOUS

Long Overdue!

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

The Family Matter?!

I-T G-I-R-L!

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

BRAT!

She's My Vitals!

Three's a Crowd (But Four...) — “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 1] [Part 2] — There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Dream A Little Dream — For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

One More? Please? — A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Hope They Catch Us — When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Unmistakably Yours — In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Madam Gojo — Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

The Heir — No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

The Call — After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy — He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 1] [Part 2] — You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid…is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Unhoneymooners!? — The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! — When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Bad Boys Bring Roses — You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

The Way You Kiss Me — The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) — Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Haunting You — A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

You'll Taste Me Too! — How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

We Neva Play! — Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Something Stupid — Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Like An Animal — Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You — When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

F*ck You! (Literally) — Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Government Hooker — With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Madam Zenin — There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Brooklyn Baby — Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Golden Boy — Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Welcome To The Itadori's! — Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

FIVE! — Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) — When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Freak On The Cam! — Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

A Million Dollar Baby! — Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Exes who...

Love Is Blind

“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Can I Fill You Up, Baby?

"Pull On It. Harder."

Little Heaven

©2025 tonycries. All work belongs to @tonycries. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes, headers, and pinned.

[bambiihee]

Can you write something for Jake? Like you guys were having a sleepover, watching scary movies then suddenly y’all get freaky.

been craving jake biblically recently… need him

c𝔴༚ smut, nsfw content. roommates au, marijuana, cowgirl, soft dom!jake, fem!reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, piv, itty bit of size kink if you squint, frat boy!jake, slut!jake

stoner!jake as your loser roommate; he looks like your typical frat boy on the outside, but he’s secretly just a total nerd!! sure hes got a reputation around campus for being a total slut, but is that really his fault when his lip bites can make the strongest woman fall to her knees… even you, unfortunately, though you pretend you’re not interested. he’s too much of a flight risk, parties, smokes and plays video games too much and cleans nowhere near enough. he’s not your type, you tell yourself.

but jake is just soooo good at getting you to spend time with him against your will, his pretty face and big puppy eyes asking you to smoke a joint and watch a scary movie with him 🥺 it’s impossible to tell him no… plus, it’s a movie you haven’t seen before and want to watch. jake is just an.. added bonus.

you try to sit and just watch the movie, as he inches closer and closer across the couch, burns through a joint with you and starts on another one before you’ve hit the hour mark. then his knee his touching yours,, and then when he passes the joint to you his hand lingers on your thigh… all the while giving you looks you can’t stand, grinning and licking his lips like an invitation…

just as it’s not jake’s fault for being so sexy, it’s not your fault that you fall for his charms! how can you possibly act like your belly’s not on fire when he whispers and laughs all hot and breathy in your ear?? maybe it’s the high breaking down your defenses, but you find yourself acting on your impulses without much thought. the movie’s completely forgotten about, the screams of the victims onscreen being drowned out by your high pitched moans and jake’s whines and grunts. you bounce on his lap with his big veiny hands groping your ass and hips, guiding you against him as your asscheeks jiggle and smack against his pelvis <3 ur pussy’s drippingwet n jake’s cock is dribbling pre, making everything so wet and slick, nasty plap plap plaps ringing in your ears.

“s-so fucking big!” you mewl in pleasure, fucked stupid and hardly able to string together a sentence, only able to sob out just how good you feel, “fuck, jakey, right there!”

“yeah? right there?” jake slams his hips up, fat flared cockhead rubbing up against your sweet spot and kissing your cervix. “you feel me in here, sweetheart?”

his hand comes to splay possessively over your stomach, pressing down to feel himself moving inside of you. it increases the pressure in your cunt tenfold, hot and dizzying, your wet gummy walls clenching hungrily around jake’s cock as if trying to draw him in impossibly deeper.

“so deep!” you hiccup pathetically, reaching back in a desperate blind attempt to ground yourself. you manage to grab a fistful of jake’s hoodie, tugging it hard and pulling him down closer to you. “i’m gonna cum, yun!”

“cum on my dick, baby.” he groans into your neck, plump spit slick lips and hot tongue marking up your skin, “been wanting to feel this pussy creamin’ around me since i first saw you— holy fuck, can i cum inside? please? god, i want to so bad, please, need to see this cunt dripping with me—“

[bubblyi3]

Residuals PART 1 | JJK

"he held her first everything, and became her quietest goodbye."

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: childhood best friends, lovers to enemies to strangers, fratboy!jungkook, heartbreak, uni!au

word count: 12.2k

content warning: angst, mild smut, mild languages

summary: jungkook used to be your everything. your best friend, your first love. but you both grew up and grew apart. he’s now the campus heartbreaker, a cocky frat boy who runs with the worst crowd. when a cruel dare asks him to destroy you just for the fun of it. everything shatters. trust. hearts. and maybe the chance to ever put it back together.

author's note: hi hello heyyyy everyone! wow, i’m honestly amazed by how much you all loved the prologue i really didn’t expect such amazing reactions! the taglist is still open, so if you’d like to be notified when future parts go up, just let me know :) i’ve proofread this like a million times (and i’m probably going to read it over again). my writing isn’t perfect, but i’ve given it my best shot. i really hope you all enjoy it! <3

© disclaimer: please do not copy, translate or reproduce any part of this work without my permission. thank you!

🏷️ taglist: @whoa-jo / @username23345 / @kelsyx33 / @toosweetforyall / @junniesoleilkth / @literallyjimin / @jeeykey / @stars4kooo / @delulutofr / @smoljimjim / @elithenium / @mysoulherofriend / @ukndtwme / @nikkiordonez12

You didn’t see Jungkook for days after that night. Maybe it was weeks but the exact stretch of time blurred together, swallowed up by the routines and noise of university life. His absence was loud, the kind of silence that echoes louder than any shout.

Whispers reached you, fragments carried on the edges of campus chatter. Stories of him slipping further into the frat scene, like he was sinking into quicksand and just letting it pull him under.

Rumors spread about the parties he showed up at. The kind of wild, reckless nights where faces blurred and memories faded by morning. Girls said he was charming, magnetic even, but a ghost when it came to texting back. One night stands, fleeting moments, nothing real, nothing that lasted beyond a sunrise or a hangover.

He wasn’t just part of the crowd anymore. He was the crowd. The center of it, like a king in a castle built on noise and neon lights.

And you? You kept your head down, burying yourself in lectures, drowning yourself in coffee and energy drinks, and nights of textbooks and assignment deadlines. Your hands shook a little when you tried to type on your keyboard, not from exhaustion but from the ache in your chest you couldn’t quite explain.

You pretended your heart hadn’t been dragged across glass. Pretended the sharp edges didn’t still scrape at your skin every time his name slipped into a conversation or a memory.

Sometimes, when the library was empty and the world outside faded to a dull hum, you let yourself think about what you lost, or what you thought you had. But then you’d shut those thoughts down before they could consume you, forcing your focus back to the pages in front of you, your lit up screen and the plans for your future.

Because that was easier than facing the truth.

Just as you were finally forcing your mind back into the case study, the quiet was shattered by the familiar sound of laughter and voices outside your dorm room. Before you could even look up, the door swung open.

Hana burst in, her bright smile lighting up the room, followed by a couple of your other uni friends, Mina and Jess. They dropped their bags by the door, eyes instantly locking onto your face.

“Hey, you okay?” Hana asked, dropping onto the edge of your bed, her voice softer now but still urgent. “Seriously, we’ve been worried."

You tried to muster a smile but it came out more like a grimace.

Mina crossed her arms, eyes sharp. “And don’t even bother with that asshole. He’s not worth a single second of your time.”

Jess nodded fiercely, “Honestly, if a guy treats you like that. He’s a fucking idiot. You deserve way better.”

You felt the sting of their words but also the warmth. It was nice, for once, to have people who saw through the bullshit and had your back without question.

“Yeah,” you said, voice a little raw but steadying, “I know. I’m done wasting time on someone who can’t even show up when it counts.”

Hana reached over and squeezed your hand. “Good. Because there’s so much more out there for you. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nodded, feeling a flicker of strength return. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe the company, but whatever it was, you were starting to believe that maybe, you could just move on.

The frat house buzzed with heat, music, and too much alcohol. Bottles clinked together, laughter bounced off walls, and someone had already spilled beer on the carpet. No one cared.

It was the unofficial post-midterms blowout. Two weeks of freedom ahead, meant for studying, naturally, but more often used for making questionable choices and pretending the start of the new term was a lifetime away.

Jungkook sat on the couch, half-draped with a girl whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember. She might’ve told him, but it hadn’t felt important. Just someone he’d flirted with earlier when Taehyung had dragged them over to where the nursing students usually hung out. Now, she was tracing lazy patterns on his thigh, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered something he didn’t catch. His mind was elsewhere. Or maybe nowhere at all.

Namjoon clapped his hands from the center of the room, drawing attention like a magnet. “Alright, listen up. Truth or Dare time.”

A loud cheer erupted. Within seconds, a circle formed. People stumbling over each other, red solo cups in hand, their eyes already gleaming with tipsy anticipation.

The bottle spun. Two rounds of tame truths and half-hearted dares, the usual kiss the person to your left, take two shots, confess your crush.

Then the bottle landed on him.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung drawled with a smirk, raising his shot glass in mock salute. “Truth or dare?”

Jungkook leaned forward, tongue tapping against his cheek, dark eyes flashing.

“Dare.”

A chorus of oohs followed. The girl beside him giggled, her fingers now trailing up his chest.

Namjoon didn’t skip a beat. “Alright. I dare you to make a girl fall in love with you over this semester break.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “That’s it?”

Namjoon’s grin stretched wider, all teeth and something colder behind his eyes. “Make her fall for you. Sleep with her. Then break her heart.”

The room stilled.

Jimin frowned from across the circle. “That’s seriously fucked up."

“Is it?” Namjoon shrugged. “It’s uni. Classes by day, chaos by night. Girls know the game. Parties, hook-ups, heartbreak. It’s practically on the syllabus.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

"It’s a challenge," Namjoon corrected. "A full-on charm test, baby. But hey, if anyone thinks they’ve got more game, step up. Nail it, and you’ll get bragging rights... and drinks on us for the rest of the year. If you can, that is.

Hoseok laughed, head tipping back. "Alright then, Kook. If you're gonna pass. I'll take it... I'll be choosing Y/n."

That name dropped like a lead weight.

Jungkook froze, jaw tightening. No way he was going to make you part of this so called dare. "Don't you fucking dare."

“What?” Hoseok said, grinning. “She’s perfect for this. Bet she still thinks you’re the same guy who walked her home every day after school.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Sounds personal.”

“Used to be,” Jungkook muttered, taking a long drink.

Taehyung chuckled. “So what’s the problem then? If anything, you’ve got a head start. You already know what makes her tick.”

"Plus, don’t you guys live right next to each other?" Seokjin, who wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t really roll with the guys, piped up.

Jungkook didn’t answer.

Didn’t move. Didn’t throw a punch. Didn’t walk out. Just… sat there, expression unreadable. A storm under calm. Namjoon leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Unless it’d bother you?”

Jungkook looked up slowly, a half-smile curling at his lips. Hollow and sharp.

“Why would it?”

He took another drink, shrugging. “The only thing that’ll bother me is if my parents find out. They’d kill me.”

Laughter erupted again.

“That’s what makes it fun,” someone shouted.

Jungkook didn’t see who said it. He didn’t care.

He’d already lost the moment to walk away. His ego was too big. His heart and whatever was left of it was locked behind layers he didn’t even understand anymore.

You already thought he was a bastard. So what was one more sin?

If anyone was going to break you…

Jungkook made damn sure it was going to be him.

The dare had been set.

Laughter slowly faded into the background noise as the party began winding down. The music was still playing. A little slower now, a little more muted. Half of the people had already disappeared into Ubers or stumbled upstairs in pairs. The floor was sticky with spilled liquor, and the smell of smoke clung to the curtains.

Namjoon tossed empty cups into a trash bag, yelling half-heartedly for everyone to get out.

"Party's over, people! Go ruin your livers somewhere else! But most importantly enjoy your fucking uni break."

Taehyung was sprawled across the couch arm, drunk-texting God knows who. Jimin leaned against the wall, sipping water, a brow raised as he watched Jungkook.

Jungkook ignored the looks. He had the same girl draped over his side again, maybe her name was Bora. Didn’t matter to him. He didn’t really give a fuck.

Her lipstick was smudged, pupils dilated. She pressed against him like they were already halfway to something dangerous.

“Your room?” she whispered, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

“I’ve been waiting all night.”

He didn’t answer. Just nodded once, mechanically, and led her up the stairs.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

It was dimly lit, the warm glow from the desk lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. For a frat boy, it wasn’t what most people would expect. Not entirely, anyway. The space was surprisingly organized. His desk was cluttered with film cameras, old rolls of undeveloped film, a half-charged laptop still open on an assignment, and a stack of books that looked more read than decorative.

But the closet told a different story. Clothes crammed in, some half-folded, some forgotten. Drawers slightly ajar, shoes piled in the corner. He sighed internally, rubbing a hand across his jaw.

Fuck, I really need to start packing, he thought absently.

Behind him, the girl closed the door, letting her jacket slip off her shoulders. She crossed the room without hesitation, fingers already sliding up the hem of his shirt.

But Jungkook wasn’t really there.

He stood near the bed, still, watching her or maybe watching himself. Like an outsider peering into someone else’s life.

That’s when his eyes flicked to his bookshelf across the room.

Second shelf, far right. Tucked inside a worn copy of the Little Prince, a photo peeked out like a forgotten bookmark. Faded from time and touch, the edges curled slightly. It was of you and him, probably no older than fourteen. His mum had captured the moment. You were both grinning, ice cream melting down your fingers, sunlight catching in your hair. He had kept it hidden for years. Sometimes he told himself it was nothing. But he never once took it out.

Bora kissed him then, pulling him back into the moment. Her hands on his chest, her mouth moving fast, desperate and practiced.

Jungkook didn’t kiss her back.

He let it happen for a second. Let her think he was game. Let her think she was winning.

But when her hand dipped lower and started fiddling with his belt, his voice came out hard.

“Stop.”

She froze, lips grazing his jaw. “What?”

He stepped back, eyes cold. “I said, fucking stop.”

Confused, she blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“I’m not doing this,” he muttered.

“You brought me up here for what then?” she scoffed, grabbing her jacket.

He didn’t answer.

“Whatever,” she hissed, storming past him and slamming the door behind her.

Silence fell again.

Jungkook exhaled and crossed the room, pulling the book off the shelf. The photo slipped out, landing in his palm.

There you were, frozen in time. Before everything got messy. Before he turned into someone even he didn’t recognize.

He brushed his thumb over your smile and sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

How the hell did he let it get this far?

This wasn’t him or at least, not who he used to be. Not the boy who used to sneak snacks into your window during sleepovers, or carry your backpack when it was too heavy, or make you playlists when you had a bad day.

He had made a promise, to your parents and his own. That he’d always look out for you.

And now he was here. Planning to ruin you. For what?

Some twisted game? Ego?

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh and leaned back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by your face in his mind. Your smile. The way your nose scrunched when you were deep in thought. The sound of your laugh echoing through his memory.

Jungkook’s mind drifts back to that night. The night you confronted him, asking what had happened to him. The way he brushed off those memories like they were nothing, like you were nothing. He acted like the years they shared, the bond you once had, didn’t mean a damn thing.

And then, almost as if running from himself, he found himself tangled up with some girl he’d barely noticed before. Someone one of the guys had mentioned at the party. That night wasn’t supposed to end like that. It wasn’t meant to be a reckless escape or a way to numb the ache he’d caused you. But there he was, using someone else’s warmth to bury his shame, trying to erase the guilt he felt.

Cowardly.

And now, this dare wasn’t just a game anymore.

It was a storm he’d just agreed to walk right into…

And the worst part? You were the one who’d get soaked in the rain.

The next morning, one by one, people trickled out with backpacks slung over shoulders, hugging their friends goodbye before heading home for the break.

Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, watching it all unfold. His duffel bag sat by the couch, packed but forgotten. He raised a hand in farewell as Taehyung and Hoseok piled into someone’s beat-up car, Jimin tossing him a lazy salute before following.

Namjoon, finishing the last of his coffee, clapped a hand to Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t forget the dare, Kook. Two weeks.” He grinned.

Jungkook gave a half-smirk, the kind that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah. I remember.”

But truth was, he couldn’t wait to get out of this fraternity that he's been living in. He missed home. Missed familiarity. Missed something that wasn’t drenched in cheap beer, fake flirting, and expectations.

Just as he was about to call for a ride, his phone buzzed.

Dad: Don’t worry about finding a lift. I’ll come grab you. We’re picking up Y/n too. Your mothers have planned some big feast. Make sure you guys don't leave me waiting.

Jungkook stared at the message.

You.

Of course you were going home too. Of course the two families had planned something.

Like the two of you were still joined at the hip. His chest ached with something he didn’t want to name.

He texted back a short “okay” and ran a hand through his hair.

Jungkook let out a slow, steady exhale as he slung his own bag over his shoulder. Being the last to leave, he made sure to lock up behind him before stepping out into the quiet evening. The walk to campus wasn’t far. Close enough to count the steps yet every inch felt heavier than the last. It had been far too long since he’d seen you, and the thought of facing you again stirred a knot of tension deep inside.

As he approached the front gates, his eyes immediately found you. You stood there, two bags in hand, waiting patiently. Jungkook’s lips twitched in a faint, almost involuntary smile. He’d never forgotten how you always overpacked, insisting on bringing “just in case” everything. It was a small, familiar detail that softened the moment, even as the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow around you, making you look breathtaking. You always had that effortless beauty, but right now, illuminated like that, it was almost too much to bear. Fuck, Jungkook cursed silently, scolding himself for thinking it.

He took a few careful steps forward, keeping a distance that was neither too close nor too far. Your eyes lifted from your phone just as he drew near, and the silence between you stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

Jungkook swallowed, then decided to be the one to break the ice. “So… are you excited to head back home?” His voice was softer than expected. Tinged with a warmth and care you hadn’t heard in a while. You looked up, surprised by the gentleness, almost like the Jungkook you once knew was trying to break through the distance.

He was about to say more, to reach out beyond the silence, when the sudden sound of a car pulling up cut through the moment. His dad’s voice called out, and just like that, the fragile thread between you snapped.

The break had barely begun, yet it was already testing him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

And you? You had no idea what was about to come.

You heard the car pull up before you even saw it, the sudden crunch of tires on gravel cutting through the quiet between you and Jungkook. The sound caught you off guard, stealing away the moment, and with it, your chance to respond.

Mr. Jeon stepped out from the driver’s side, his presence steady and grounding as always. He gave a cheerful wave as he moved to toss Jungkook’s bag into the trunk, then turned to greet you with that familiar warmth. The kind that made you feel like you were still the little kid who used to tag along with Jungkook everywhere.

Before Jungkook could say a word, his dad pulled him into a firm, heartfelt hug. One that spoke of quiet pride, unspoken support, and the deep bond between father and son. The embrace was comforting, like a shield against the weight of the world, reminding Jungkook that no matter what, some things stayed constant.

You slipped into the front seat quickly, earbuds in, eyes trained on your phone. Not because you were texting anyone, but because it was easier to pretend you were. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see him.

But you felt him the moment he opened the back door. The air shifted. The seat shifted. He used to call shotgun every time. No matter what.

You never had to ask for it before.

But now?

Now, he let you have it. And that felt like a bigger deal than you wanted it to.

The drive started, slow and familiar. Mr. Jeon chatted away about dinner plans and how excited your moms were. You responded politely, nodded where you should, even cracked a smile at the bit about your little brother refusing to do the groceries unless Jungkook came with him.

You didn’t turn around. Didn’t look at him. But you knew.

You knew he was watching you.

Out of the corner of your eye, in the side mirror. There he was, slouched back in the seat, hoodie drawn up but not enough to hide his stare. You didn’t know what pissed you off more. The fact that he kept looking at you, or the part of you that kept wondering if he missed you.

You hated how quiet he was now.

How calm.

How the boy who used to tap your shoulder to share dumb thoughts every five minutes was now silent. Like he didn’t deserve to speak to you. Maybe he didn’t.

Not after that night, he made you feel like you didn't mean anything to him anymore.

At the next red light, his dad asked, “You two doing alright?”

You gave a neutral “yeah,” not turning.

Jungkook’s voice followed a beat later. “Fine.”

You closed your eyes. Liar.

The trees passed by. The sun warmed your skin. You should’ve felt relaxed, going home. You should’ve felt lighter. But instead, the weight of him just pressed harder into your chest.

Because he’d let you go.

He’d chosen to become someone you barely recognized. And no matter how close you sat in this car, he felt like a stranger all over again.

The moment Mr. Jeon turned the corner onto your quiet street, your heart clenched.

There it was. Your house, and right beside it, the Jeon residence. Still the same distance apart. Still sharing the same trimmed hedges and side fence that separated the backyards. Still carrying the same summer breeze that used to drift through your bedroom window when you and Jungkook would whisper to each other past curfew with flashlights and walkie-talkies.

You almost wanted to laugh at how little had changed out here, while everything inside you had.

Mr. Jeon parked in his usual spot, right between both houses. The engine cut. You reached for your duffel just as the front doors opened.

“Y/n!” your mum beamed from your porch, stepping out with open arms. Jungkook’s mum was right behind her, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, still in her cozy floral apron.

You stepped out of the car, nodding politely as Jungkook opened the door behind you. He let you pass first. You didn’t thank him. Not this time.

“Look at you two!” Jungkook’s mum said, pulling you into a hug while your mum fussed over your hair. “Back from uni and thinner than ever. Are you eating? You’ve been studying too hard, haven’t you?”

You smiled, playing the part. “Just trying to survive midterms.”

Jungkook’s mum reached over and gave his cheek a playful pinch, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in. “So you weren’t joking about the lip piercing?” she huffed. “I thought you were messing with me on the phone.” 

Jungkook chuckled, leaning away slightly. “I told you I wasn’t kidding, but you said, ‘Over my dead body,’ and hung up on me.”

She clicked her tongue, her gaze drifting to the tattoos on his arms. “And this! do you want to give your poor mother a heart attack?”

Jungkook grinned. “You’re still alive though, so I think we’re doing okay.”

She shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. Her tone softened as she glanced toward you. “Just tell me you’ve been taking care of Y/n like you promised. Did you help her pack?”

He looked at you for a beat, then back at his mum. “Always.”

You didn’t even flinch.

Your mother clapped her hands, excited. “Well, let’s not waste any more time. Dinner’s all ready next door. Come on now, both of you.”

You followed her up the steps to the Jeon house like you’d done hundreds of times as a kid. But everything felt different now. He wasn’t just the boy-next-door anymore. He was the boy who let you down. The one who changed the minute campus swallowed him whole.

The Jeon house smelled like comfort. Grilled meat, garlic, soy, rice. Pretty much your childhood in dinner form. The table was already full, banchan dishes spread like a celebration.

“Y/n, sweetheart, sit here,” Jungkook’s mum said, patting the seat beside her. “Jungkook, go grab the rice cooker.”

You sat quietly, folding your hands in your lap, while Jungkook passed behind you without a word. His shoulder brushed yours.

Neither of you reacted.

The dinner chatter began. Your mum and his mum swapping stories, catching up like nothing was wrong. You just nodded when spoken to, eating slowly, eyes fixed on your plate.

Across the table, Jungkook watched you. Or maybe he didn’t. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up to find out.

Because you both used to walk home together. 

Used to climb your tree when you couldn’t sleep.

Used to swear he’d never be one of those guys.

And now he was sitting across from you, pretending he still knew how to be close.

"So, two weeks off, huh?" your dad called out from the far end of the table.

Both you and Jungkook nodded, murmuring a quiet "yeah."

"What's the plan?" Jungkook's mum asked, eyes twinkling. "You two going to visit your old spots, or just bury yourselves in assignments all week?"

You forced a small smile. "No and yes... for me at least. I'm hoping to balance it out. I've missed home a lot, so I want to soak it all in before heading back."

Jungkook paused, then reached for another kimbap.

“Same here,” he said eventually. “I’ve got a film project to prep over the break, so I’ll be working on that but yeah… I’ve missed this. A lot.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could he sound so… unaffected? So normal?

And maybe you stared too long, because when you blinked back to reality, he was looking right at you.

You coughed and diverted your attention, steering the conversation back toward whatever the parents were chatting about next.

By the time dinner wrapped up, the dishes were emptied, laughter had filled the room more than once, and everyone’s stomachs were happily full. You stood to start clearing the table.

Of course, Jungkook helped. He always did. It didn’t matter whose house it was. He’d gather the dishes, wash, dry, and put them away with you. It was second nature. Respectful. Familiar.

And for just a fleeting second, it felt like old times. Like your Jungkook was still there. Maybe just for tonight.

Both sets of parents waved you off, insisting you two should relax, settle in, rest after all the hard work. But that was never your style and you weren’t about to let Mrs. Jeon and your mum do everything alone.

In the kitchen, silence hung between you. Comfortable. Strange. His presence warmed the space, his clothes carrying that same scent you used to bury your face into when the world got too loud.

You missed him. God, you really did.

You rinsed a plate, passing it to Jungkook without a word. He took it, dried it gently, and stacked it neatly on the rack like always. The rhythm between you felt automatic, muscle memory stitched into routine. But underneath it, the quiet was anything but easy.

Eventually, he broke it.

“Your dad hasn’t changed at all,” he said softly, a half-smile in his voice. “Still talks like he’s trying to interview everyone at the table.”

You let out a small breath. Half a laugh, half a sigh. “Yeah. He gets worse when he’s nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jungkook looked over, his eyes catching yours for a second too long.

You shrugged. “It’s been a while since we were all here. You know what that does to him.”

He nodded slowly, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he reached for the next bowl. You pretended not to notice, but the heat lingered.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said, voice quiet. “I really did miss this.”

You kept your eyes on the soapy water. “It’s easy to miss things when you’re far away from them.”

That hung in the air for a moment. Sharp. Honest.

Jungkook didn’t say anything right away. Just dried the next plate, slower this time.

“And… can you please keep whatever’s been happening on campus. About my reputation there, under the bus.” His tone was careful now, laced with something like guilt. “Don’t bring it up to my parents. Especially my mum.”

And just like that, the version of Jungkook you’d held onto in your memory. The boy you grew up with felt like he’d slipped away for good.

You stilled, hands submerged in the warm water. “Are you serious right now?” you snapped, voice rising before you could stop it. You turned toward him, brows pulled tight.

He straightened, finally looking at you, face tense. “Hey... can you not-” His voice dipped low. “Tone it down, alright?”

You blinked, stunned.

He exhaled, leaning into the counter, not quite meeting your eyes. “I know, I know. I probably sound like a complete douche. And maybe I am. But I can’t have them finding out. Not about that.”

You turned to face him fully, searching his expression. For a flicker of the boy who used to knock on your window at midnight, who swore he'd always be on your side.

“You left me to figure it all out on my own, Jungkook,” you said, the words thick with the weight of everything you hadn’t said until now.

“You started treating me like I didn’t matter the second people on campus started learning your name.”

That one landed. His jaw tightened. His eyes dropped.

The overhead kitchen light above flickered slightly. The dishes were almost done.

And for the first time in months, you felt like something was finally about to break.

Just then, Jungkook’s phone buzzed on the counter beside him. Once. Then again. Then again. You didn’t have to look. You already knew.

The constant stream of notifications was all the confirmation you needed. It was the guys' group chat. Loud. Persistent. Like the version of him you didn’t recognize anymore was calling him back.

You quietly placed the last dish in the rack, wiping your hands on a tea towel.

From the lounge, laughter spilled into the kitchen. Your parents and his, watching whatever drama or variety show was on, lost in their own version of comfort.

You and Jungkook returned to the living room. The moment your parents saw you, your dad chuckled.

“Done already? That might be a new record.”

Normally, dish duty took longer because of playful bickering, soap flicked in faces, elbow nudges, stupid arguments about whose turn it was to dry.

You forced a smile. “Yep, all done. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon. Dinner was amazing. It was so nice seeing you both again.”

They stood, warm and familiar, exchanging hugs. Jungkook followed suit, giving your parents a hug and telling them it was good catching up over dinner, offering his own easy smile like nothing had shifted just moments earlier.

Mrs. Jeon turned to your mum, eyes lighting up. “Oh, we have to go to the Saturday market together in the morning. It’s been ages.”

Your mum gasped in agreement, already mentally planning the morning. “Yes! You, me, and our reusable bags. It’s a date.”

Mrs. Jeon looked between you and Jungkook. “You two should come along. Jungkook can drive us all. Right, sweetie?”

You nodded. “I’m keen.” You missed those early morning strolls, the smell of fresh bread and brewed coffee floating through the stalls.

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll see how I feel,” he said noncommittally. “Might have stuff to work on.”

You just nodded. Of course he might.

With the evening winding down, your family said your goodbyes and stepped outside. The Jeon house was right next door to yours. A perk of a lifelong friendship. Even now, you still found it a little surreal that your parents had managed to buy houses side by side. Soulmates, in their own way.

Your mums, always inseparable. Just like you and Jungkook used to be.

Until you weren’t.

After you and your parents stepped out into the night, laughter still trailing behind you, the Jeon house fell into a quieter rhythm.

Jungkook and his parents lingered in the doorway for a moment before turning back inside.

It wasn’t exactly how things used to be. But it wasn’t unfamiliar either. The kind of stillness that only came from being back home after a long time away. The air held something warm and nostalgic, even if a little too quiet now.

“Go wash up and get settled in, sweetheart,” his mum said as they walked back into the lounge. She gave his arm a soft squeeze. “I changed the sheets and aired out the room, but I left everything else just how you had it.”

His dad added with a nod, already making himself comfortable on the couch again. “We’re gonna stay up a bit, finish this show your mum’s obsessed with. You know how it is.”

Jungkook laughed lightly. “Of course. You two and your midnight TV marathons.”

They both smiled, and his mum reached up to smooth his hair. “It’s good to have you home, Kook.”

“Yeah,” he said, hugging them both. “Missed you guys.”

He kissed his mum’s cheek, gave his dad a pat on the back, and made his way up the familiar stairs. Slowly, like each step was stirring something deeper.

When he reached his room, he hesitated at the door before pushing it open.

Everything looked the same.

His old posters still lined the hallway, the same spot on the wall where he'd once drawn on the wallpaper with crayon still hidden behind a framed photo.

Bed made with navy-blue sheets, desk still stacked with random comics and knick-knacks, photos still taped above the headboard—some curling at the corners now. His guitar case was right where he left it. A faint layer of dust coated the windowsill, but otherwise, it felt untouched. Preserved.

Like time had been waiting for him.

He stepped inside, exhaling slowly, letting the weight of the day settle in his shoulders. Tossed his hoodie onto the chair. Sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor for a moment, caught in the hum of everything familiar. The scent of laundry detergent, floorboards creaking in all the right places. It made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t name.

Then he remembered about he buzzing from earlier. The group chat.

He grabbed his phone, the screen lighting up with a dozen missed messages.

Jin-hyung: yo i'm already losing my mind w my cousins here Namjoon: been catching up on readings… send help Jimin: i’m not doing any work this week. i’m feral now. leave me Hoseok: my fam made this huge feast and i’ve been watching my old dance vids + workshop recaps since i got home Taehyung: jungkookkkkkkk you bonding yet or what don’t forget the terms, golden boy Jimin: LMAO NOT THE DARE Namjoon: bro you better have got it started. Taehyung: a bet’s a bet. clock’s ticking. Namjooon: once you make her fall for you… break her. fuck, i’m looking forward to how you’ll pull it off Hoseok: public humiliation? exposure? fuck i can’t wait. but tbh kookie i’m kinda jealous. y/n’s a smash for me. Namjoon: hobi just stfu. Jimin: You guys are lethal. Jin-hyung: yo, i love you all but i’m out of this bs Yoongi: no fun, hyung.

Jungkook stared at the messages, his jaw tight, teeth pressed together.

That guilt was back. The same one that clenched his stomach earlier when he asked you to keep things quiet. The same guilt that rose when he caught that look in your eyes. Like you saw everything, even the parts he didn’t want you to.

He turned the screen off and tossed the phone facedown onto his bed.

The silence returned. He leaned back, eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the ceiling, the soft flicker of light from the street filtering in through his curtains.

You were just next door.

But somehow, you felt miles away.

Drawn by some quiet impulse, Jungkook stood up and walked to his window. He could see your room from here. The lamp had just flicked on, casting a soft, golden glow behind your curtains. He could make out the silhouette of your gentle and slow movement. Maybe you were brushing your hair. Maybe you were changing. He didn’t know.

But he remembered a time when he did know everything.

You two used to talk from your windows, yelling across the small gap between houses like there was no one else in the world. Sometimes so loud his parents would storm in and tell him to quiet down.

Those were the nights when he could make you laugh until your voice cracked.

Back then, when you looked at him, Jungkook felt like he was somebody worth being.

He stayed at the window until your light flicked off.

Then it hit him. You’d gone to bed. Closed off from him again.

He sighed, shoulders dropping, and turned away.

His dad had already brought his bags upstairs. He made a mental note to thank him tomorrow. For now, he just needed to wash up. Get his head straight.

Before stepping into the bathroom, he picked up his phone again. Just to check the chat.

He hovered over the keyboard for a second too long.

Then, almost without thinking. Whether it was anger, pride, or fear. He fired off a reply to the group.

[Jungkook]: Don’t worry. I've got it planned.

He tossed the phone back onto the bed.

The words didn’t even feel like his. But maybe that was the point.

Maybe this version of him, the one they all expected was easier to play.

Maybe if he played the part well enough, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

He made his way into the bathroom, the floor cool beneath his feet, the lights humming quietly overhead. As he splashed water onto his face, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Eyes tired. Jaw tense. Something unreadable just beneath the surface.

If anyone was going to be in your life. It had to be him.

Because no one knew you like Jungkook did.

And maybe, a little game wouldn’t hurt and tomorrow the act would begin.

Just like old times.

Back in your own room, you’d gone through the usual routine. Washed up, brushed your teeth, pulled on your oversized sleep tee. The kind that still smelled vaguely like your old high school fabric softener. You switched off the lamp, slipping under the covers, the soft rustle of sheets the only sound as the world outside dimmed.

Everything in your childhood room was exactly how you left it.

Posters still tacked onto the closet door. Your bookshelf, slightly crooked, still carried the dust of years past. YA novels, a few worn diaries, old photo booth strips stuffed between the pages. The small glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling had long lost their shine, but you never took them down. They were part of it. The history of you.

And him.

Your gaze drifted across the room. You could still picture Jungkook sprawled out on the rug during sleepovers, stealing your snacks, teasing you for your stuffed animal collection. You remembered the blanket forts. The whispered ghost stories. The night he cried after his first heartbreak and you pretended not to see the way his shoulders trembled.

So much of your room carried him. And yet now, it felt like he didn’t belong in here anymore. At least, not the version of him you saw tonight.

You turned to your side, reaching for your phone. The screen lit up with a single unread message from Hana.

[Hana]: omg are u alive or buried under family obligations yet? how was dinner w golden boy? spill. missing you alr though

You smiled faintly at the nickname. Golden boy. She’d started calling him that after you shared your long, messy Jungkook lore. Nappies and all. Hana had become your go-to. The one person you trusted at uni to hold that story without twisting it.

You typed back quickly.

[You]: lol I survived. Dinner was… good? weird? idk. will explain everything when the time comes. And yes, I miss you too!

You hit send, then placed your phone on your nightstand, screen-down.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Not when Jungkook’s words kept circling back.

“Can you keep whatever’s been happening on campus… under the bus? Don’t bring it up to my parents.”

The audacity.

Who did he think you were?

Some quiet little side character in his new story? As if you didn’t know who he was now. As if you hadn’t heard things. As if you hadn’t seen the photos, the whispers, the rotating of girls, the club nights, the film school fanbase he seemed to thrive off.

He used to tell you everything.

Now he was asking you to lie.

You had to admit, Jungkook was smart. He knew you wouldn’t dare say anything. Not when it meant disappointing his parents. Not when the truth would hurt the people who still greeted you with open arms, who still saw you as part of their family.

You rolled onto your back, exhaling sharply into the stillness of your room.

What hurt the most was how close he was. Just one window away. And yet, somehow, it felt like he was miles from you. That brief silhouette in the kitchen, the quiet tension thick in the air, the group chat notifications you couldn’t see but knew were buzzing beneath his skin. Everything pointed to the same painful truth.

He wasn’t the Jungkook you used to know.

Not anymore.

And the scariest part was… a small part of you still wanted to believe he was. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, the ache in your chest softening just enough to let you sleep.

The next morning, the scent of toast and brewed coffee nudged you awake.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, sunlight already spilling through your curtains. The world outside your window was glowing. Familiar. Safe.

You sat up, stretching as the sound of light chatter floated in from downstairs. Your parents.

After slipping into some jeans and a clean hoodie, you padded down to the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” your dad called out, already at the stove, expertly flipping eggs.

“You hungry?”

“Starving,” you replied with a sleepy smile.

“Morning, sweetie,” your mum chimed in from the other side of the kitchen island. She was already dressed for the day. Hair neatly tied back, sunglasses perched on her head, a canvas market tote slung over one shoulder, and practical walking shoes on her feet.

“I’ve been waiting on you,” she said with a playful glance. “You’re still coming to the market, right? Jungkook’s mum is ready too, we’ll go over there soon.”

You nodded, stretching lightly. “I’ll go get washed up and ready then.”

Before you could leave, your dad slid a plate in front of you. Toast still warm, butter melting into the surface, eggs perfectly done. He gestured toward it with his spatula. “Eat first. Didn’t you just say you were starving?”

You sat down and took a bite, nodding with your mouth full. “Good call.”

He grinned. “Saturday markets are sacred, Y/n. Fuel up.”

The morning felt good. Warm. Comforting. For a moment, everything felt right again.

However, on the other side. Next door, someone was still sleeping. Sunlight filtered through the edges of his curtains, casting soft stripes across his blanket-tangled form.

Downstairs, Mrs. Jeon was already dressed and ready for the Saturday market. Hair pinned back neatly, sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crown, canvas tote over her arm, and a familiar gleam in her eyes. The one that meant today was for errands and bonding.

She bustled through the kitchen humming to herself, wiping down counters that were already clean, checking her phone and then her watch like time owed her something.

Her husband had already eaten and slipped out not long ago, off on one of his routine morning walks around the neighbourhood park. Something he proudly called his “retired cardio.”

By 9:45am, she was tapping her foot at the base of the staircase.

“Jungkook-ah!” she called up the stairs in that half-sing-song tone only a mother could master. “Wake up! We’re going to the market and you’re driving!”

No answer.

She called again, louder this time. “Kookie! I already told Y/n's mum that we'll be ready by 10!"

Still nothing.

She sighed, muttering under her breath as she marched toward the stairs. “This boy acts like he’s filming a movie in his dreams…”

Up the stairs she went, each step announcing her arrival like a one-woman parade. When she reached his room, she didn’t bother knocking. Mothers didn’t have time for boundaries when produce was on sale.

She flung the door open.

“Jungkook!”

He was sprawled out like a starfish, one leg off the bed, the other tangled in a blanket, face half-buried into his pillow. His phone was still lying face-down by his side, forgotten. Hair an absolute crime scene.

She crossed her arms. “Yah, do you know what time it is? It’s already late for the good tomatoes!”

Jungkook groaned from the depths of his bed. “I thought you gave me options if I wanted to go or not. And right now I'm not feeling it....”

“Well... I changed my mind. Get up now."

He cracked one eye open, grumbling. “Why?”

“Because I want to spend time with you.” She softened, patting his leg through the blanket. “Come on. Just like old times. You and me and a lot of fresh greens.”

He groaned again, but this time the stubbornness was softer, almost defeated, as he rubbed his face. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Not a chance. We’ll get candied nuts. And those dumplings you can’t resist.”

That finally pulled him upright, his hair a wild mess, like he’d just survived a tornado. “Okay, okay! I’m up. But don’t drag me out in my boxers.”

“Then move faster before I do.” She shot him a grin and strode out of the room.

“Ten minutes, Jeon Jungkook. I’m timing you.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with an exaggerated groan, shuffling toward the bathroom. “Can a man just get some decent sleep around here?”

From downstairs, his mom’s voice came back without missing a beat. “Hurry up!”

The morning was crisp, sun soft and golden as you and your mum stepped out the front door, reusable market bags tucked under one arm. The walk to the Jeons’ was short. Just a few steps, really but the air buzzed faintly with something unspoken. It always did when he was involved.

Mrs. Jeon was already outside with a bright smile on her face. She turned just in time to see you both approaching.

“There they are!” she beamed, arms opening wide as she leaned in to hug your mum. “Good morning, you two. The weather’s perfect, isn’t it? I told Jungkook the market gods were smiling on us today.”

Your mum chuckled, “Told you it wouldn’t rain, didn’t I?”

Mrs. Jeon then turned her gaze to you, her expression softening with genuine care. “How was your first night back?”

You returned her smile and wrapped her in a hug. “It’s really nice to be home.”

And just as you pulled back, you heard the door creak open behind her.

Footsteps on the porch.

Then came him.

Jungkook stepped out wearing a loose, dark plaid short-sleeve shirt layered casually over a crisp white tee. His light-wash jeans hung baggy and relaxed, the kind of effortless style that suggested he’d rolled out of bed not long ago. Twenty minutes tops, if you were being honest. His hair still held that tousled, just-woke-up look, soft strands falling naturally.

The sunlight caught his face at just the right angle, drawing attention to the silver glint of his lip piercing, shimmering subtly beneath the curve of his bottom lip. It hadn’t been so noticeable last night, dimmed by the kitchen’s soft lighting. But here, in the clear brightness of day, it was impossible to overlook.

And then there were the tattoos, now fully revealed across the backs of his hands, weaving up the veins of his forearms like inked stories waiting to be read. Stark black lines against his golden skin, each mark a sketch hinting at secrets you hadn’t yet uncovered.

He glanced at you briefly before dropping his gaze, jangling his car keys in one hand.

“We ready to go?,” he said simply, voice low and half-scratchy with sleep.

Your mum looked at Mrs. Jeon, a little amused. “Look at him, ready to chauffeur us.”

Mrs. Jeon clapped her hands together. “He’s driving. It’s the least he can do after making me drag him out of bed.

“Mum,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, but there was a flicker of a smile.

Mrs. Jeon turned to you then, placing a gentle hand on your back. “You take the front seat, darling. Jungkook’s used to me yelling directions from the back anyway.”

You hesitated. “Oh no, it’s okay, I don’t mind sitting in the-”

“Nonsense,” she waved you off. "Front seat’s yours.”

Your mum nodded in agreement. “Go on, we’ll sit in the back and talk produce.”

You blinked, caught between your own resistance and the weight of four parental eyes.

“Okay…” you muttered, making your way to the passenger door.

You could feel Jungkook’s presence beside you as he unlocked the car, the soft click of the doors breaking the stillness. As you slid into the seat, the familiarity of it all hit in waves.

Not with the new version of him beside you, hands inked, lip pierced, shoulders broader than you remembered.

He got in, adjusting the mirror with a quick glance at the back seat. “Everyone good?”

“Yep,” Mrs. Jeon chimed. “Let’s go get some vegetables.”

As he pulled out of the driveway, the silence between you buzzed louder than the morning radio.

Because you’d thought he wouldn’t come. You really did.

And yet here he was. Driving, casual, unreadable.

And suddenly, a memory bubbled up before you could stop it.

You were sixteen, nervous hands gripping the steering wheel of his dad’s old Toyota. Jungkook beside you in the passenger seat, half-eating a popsicle, half-coaching you through parallel parking.

“Ease off the brake. Not slam it. Ease. You’re not trying to throw me through the windshield,” he’d teased.

You’d glared at him. “Do you want to teach me or not?”

He’d smiled then, soft and crooked. “I always do. Just don’t kill us.”

Back then, you’d learned how to trust the road and trust him.

Now, you weren’t so sure of either.

You turned slightly to glance at him. He was focused on driving, hand casually resting on the wheel, the ink on his fingers visible as he shifted gears with practiced ease.

You folded your hands in your lap and stared out the window again, silence thick in your throat. The radio hummed something soft in the background. Your mums chatted lightly in the back seat, comparing shopping lists and debating what market stall had the best sourdough.

But between you and Jungkook, the silence felt heavier than ever.

He was close. Right there in the driver’s seat beside you, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Yet emotionally, he felt miles away.

Still, a small part of you clung to memories of the boy who had cheered the loudest when you nailed that perfect reverse park, telling you it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.

But now… he was someone who made you feel invisible.

Still driving the same car.

Still offering you rides.

Just not in the way he used to.

The local Saturday market was already in full swing by the time you arrived. Tents lined the footpaths in bursts of colour. Fresh flowers, handmade crafts, overflowing crates of seasonal fruit. The scent of brewed coffee, warm cinnamon, and the faint salt of the sea in the distance wove through the morning air.

You stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching softly beneath your sneakers, your mum already calling dibs on the walnut loaf from her favorite bakery stand.

Mrs. Jeon smiled warmly, looping her arm through your mum’s. “Come on, before it all sells out.”

“You two can just mingle together. If you lose us, remember to call,” your mum said with a knowing smile.

With that, the two mums melted into the crowd as if it were their usual Saturday ritual. Which, judging by how easily they slipped away, it probably was. And just like that, you were left alone with him.

Jungkook trailed a few steps behind you, hands tucked in his jean pocket, lip ring catching the sunlight when he glanced to the side. You could feel his eyes on you. Too aware. Too observant.

You didn’t say anything.

He didn’t either. Not yet.

Because internally, he was trying to calculate the angle.

This shouldn’t be that hard.

You had history. Long, tangled, intimate history.

He knew how you looked when you were crying in the dark. When you laughed with your whole chest. When you wore oversized t-shirts in summer and leaned your head on his shoulder like it meant nothing.

The way your mouth twitched when you were annoyed. How your eyes always flicked to the left when you were trying to lie. How you twisted your bracelets around your wrist when you were nervous.

He could read you like a book.

And right now, Jungkook was thinking this bet? This dare?

It was already in the bag.

You used to like him. Hell, maybe you still did. That part of you that lingered, that looked at him in the kitchen last night like you were waiting for an old friend to return.

And yeah, maybe you had every right to hate him now. But he also knew you well enough to know…

You never stopped caring completely.

He could tell.

So all he had to do was dial it up.

The eye contact. The soft teasing. The subtle call-backs to childhood memories. Play the long game. Make you feel like he’s still in there somewhere.

Make you trust him again.

And when the time came?

Well, the ending was supposed to hurt, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t proud of it. But the bravado of the group chat still echoed in his head. Golden boy. Star of the show. No one ever expected him to fall. Just deliver the twist.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly at your side as you passed the fresh fruit stand. His voice was soft, casual. “What do you say we check out that stall with your favorite tteokbokki and fried chicken?”

You slowed your steps. Hesitated. The air felt thicker for a second.

Part of you wanted to say no. To turn away. To remind him that things weren't the same. But your stomach gave a quiet nudge, and the thought of something warm and spicy. Something comforting sounded… nice.

So you nodded. Small. Reluctant. But real.

His grin widened, smooth as ever.

Still, you fell in step beside him, the gravel crunching underfoot as the two of you wove past toddlers with melting ice creams and couples in linen pants holding mason jars of cold brew. The sounds of the market wrapped around you. Vendors calling out, oil sizzling in pans, laughter in the distance.

He led the way like nothing had shifted, like the months of distance. The silence, the sharp edges of everything unsaid didn’t hang in the space between you. You followed, unsure why.

Maybe it was the scent of the food stalls up ahead.

Or maybe it was just easier than confronting the weight in your chest.

“Still can’t handle spice?” he asked, glancing at you sideways, the corner of his mouth twitching into something playful.

You gave a small shrug, eyes focused ahead. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Liar,” he said, light and teasing. And for a second, just a split one, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

He ordered for the both of you like he always used to. Two servings of tteokbokki, one with extra spice “for him,” and crispy fried chicken to share. You stood to the side, hands shoved in your sleeves, watching the steam rise from the giant steel trays, the sauce bubbling thick and red.

He handed you your bowl carefully, making sure the lid was on tight before offering chopsticks with a little flick of his wrist, like it was muscle memory.

You murmured a quiet “thanks,” sitting on the edge of a nearby planter box where the stalls opened up into a clearing. Jungkook sat beside you, just close enough that your arms almost brushed.

You ate in silence for a while, save for the hum of market life around you. Music playing faintly from someone’s portable speaker, a child whining for another bite of cotton candy.

“I missed this,” he said suddenly, picking at a piece of chicken. “Being back home. Seeing the same faces, hearing the ahjummas shout their usual nonsense. Just… being around the people who actually know me.”

Your chopsticks froze mid-air. You didn’t look at him.

“Funny,” you said softly, not bitter. Just tired. “Not long ago, you made me swear to keep your ‘fratboy’ antics under wraps."

His hand paused, the piece of chicken halfway to his mouth.

The words settled between you like a weight. Quiet but sharp, impossible to ignore.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared off into nothing, like the noise of the market had suddenly become miles away. And for a second, you caught a glimpse of the boy behind the ego. The boy you grew up with before university swallowed him whole.

“I didn’t know how to come back from that,” he finally said, voice low and raw. “So I ran. From everything. From you. I thought avoiding it would hurt less.”

You looked down at your bowl. The food was still warm, but the taste had changed.

“You thought wrong.”

And still, somehow, you kept eating. Because that’s what people do. They sit in the wreckage and try to feel normal. Bite by bite.

Even when the taste is tinged with regret.

It was warmer now, the late-morning sun filtering through the trees. You paused to swipe hair from your face, nearly bumping into Jungkook when he suddenly stopped in front of a vendor booth.

He turned to you with a strange glint in his eyes. “Wait here.”

You blinked. “What? Why-”

But he was already weaving through the small crowd, leaving you with a confused crease between your brows.

A minute later, he returned, something hidden behind his back.

You narrowed your eyes. “If this is some kind of market prank, I swear-”

Then he held something out to you.

A delicate stem of crochet tulips, hand-stitched with vibrant yarn in shades of soft pinks and creams, the green stem twisting gently in his fingers.

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t a typical bouquet, but it felt more meaningful than any fresh flowers could. Each petal carefully crafted, a small work of art. You could tell it was from one of the local artisans at the market. Jungkook had been thoughtful enough to pick something handmade, something to support the small businesses.

His grin softened, warm and genuine, a hint of boyish pride in his eyes.

“Figured you’d like something unique. Plus, I wanted to help out the local makers.”

Your hand hovered briefly before reaching out. “You haven’t given me something like this since we were kids.”

“Since we were eleven,” he said quietly, offering the tulips closer.

You took them slowly, your fingertips brushing his as you accepted the gift.

For a moment, the distance between you seemed to shrink.

The silence. The unspoken words. The weight of all the time and space in between.

It was just you and that little stem of crochet tulips. An unexpected reminder of simpler days.

You turned the flowers over in your hands, and a memory surfaced.

You were eleven, sitting on the porch swing at dusk. Jungkook, always a little quieter back then, had picked wildflowers from the field behind your houses and handed you a handful, shy but sincere.

“These are for you,” he said softly. “Because you make everything better.”

Your chest tightened, that memory hitting with a bittersweet pang.

You looked away quickly, blinking back the rush of feeling. “You’re such a dork,” you murmured.

And just then—

“Y/N! Jungkook!” a cheerful voice broke through the moment, pulling you back to the present.

You turned to see Mrs. Jeon a short distance away, waving a bunch of kale enthusiastically in one hand as she called for both of you. Your mum stood beside her, sharing a quiet laugh as if they’d just exchanged a secret you weren’t quite part of yet.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “Crisis alert. Kale mom is back.”

You shook your head, relief flooding in from the distraction. “We should go before she starts preaching the benefits of green juice again.”

He gave a smile. “Yes, of course."

Walking side by side toward them, you held the crochet tulips a little tighter. Like a fragile thread of hope you weren’t ready to let go of. But at the same time, you weren’t about to give Jungkook your heart so easily again.

Because even if you weren’t ready to admit it…

Some part of you still remembered when Jungkook made you feel like you were everything.

And that part?

It was stirring.

Market day had come and gone in a blur. By late afternoon, you were back home, barefoot and content, the crochet tulips resting gently on your desk. Not stored away, but not forgotten either.

Lunch had stretched into an early dinner, your dad had whipped up a simple yet comforting spread. Kimchi fried rice topped with a fried egg, and a side of his homemade japchae noodles that he claimed were unbeatable. You didn’t complain. Meanwhile, your mum had settled into one of her rare naps on the couch, a well-loved novel slipping quietly from her hands onto the floor.

Now, back in your childhood room, you had an annotated PDF open, pen between your teeth, and the kind of concentration only caffeine and obligation could summon. Until your phone buzzed beside you.

Once.

You didn’t think much of it.

Then it buzzed again.

You glanced over.

[Jungkook]: what you up to?

You froze.

The message sat there like a riddle you weren’t sure how to answer.

It wasn’t the words that threw you. It was the fact that he’d sent them at all.

He didn’t text you anymore. Not like that. Not since first year when he started gaining more attention, when people began whispering about his name on campus like it was some kind of currency.

Back then, you'd gone from being the first person he shared everything with to… no one at all. The calls slowed. The texts faded. The responses became one-liners, then emojis, then silence.

So why now?

Why this?

Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant.

Because part of you. The part you’d buried under logic and pride and every reason not to care, still remembered what it felt like to open your phone and see his name.

Still remembered what it meant when it was him reaching out first.

You sighed, leaning back against the headboard, the glow of your desk lamp soft against your skin.

This didn’t mean anything.

You stared at the screen a second longer, pulse just slightly faster than before.

Then you texted back, short and safe.

[You]: just catching up on some business case studies. why?

You hit send and placed the phone beside you, trying to ignore how your heart skipped just a little. Trying not to overthink the silence that followed.

Meanwhile, just next door, the Jeon house was dim and quiet, save for the low hum of a ceiling fan and the occasional clack of Jungkook’s keyboard.

He was in his room, hunched over his desk, storyboard sketches spread out in loose clusters. His laptop was open, film project templates blinking back at him while he scribbled notes in one of his lined journals. Jungkook had music playing faintly in the background, something instrumental, lo-fi. The kind of thing that made him feel like he was getting things done, even if most of the evening had passed in more thinking than actual work.

Still, the ideas were coming. Slowly, but they were.

His film pitch was due after break. A short docu-style feature about perception versus reality. He’d circled the word duality three times on his mind map. If he was honest, the concept hit a little too close to home.

His phone was propped up against a half-empty cup of iced coffee, the group video call buzzing on speaker as he multitasked. Or at least tried to.

Taehyung’s voice cut through his scattered focus first.

“So how's it going Kook?”

“Did she fall in love with you again yet?” Jimin teased, the grin practically audible over the connection.

“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, biting the end of his pen. “We just went to the market. Some bonding time with the mums. That’s all.”

“That’s it?” Hoseok scoffed. “That’s like K-drama Episode 3 material. You’re slacking, golden boy.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, man, what’s next? Movie invite? Old hangout spot? Sleepover like the good old days?”

Jungkook groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Hyung, it’s not that simple.”

But the guys weren’t letting up. They kept poking and prodding, tossing half-serious suggestions his way.

“Take her to the movies.”

“Get boba, go down memory lane, use that stupid line like... ‘Remember when we used to-?’”

“Or just send a damn text already.”

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. He hated to admit it, but they weren’t wrong. He knew exactly how to get under your skin. He’d done it for years. Familiarity was a weapon, and he wielded it well.

But still, there was a pause.

He stared at his phone for a long moment. Because the last time he’d seen your name pop up, it hadn’t been casual. It hadn’t been playful.

It was months ago.

[Y/n]: hey, are you still walking me back after class? you said you’d wait

He hadn’t responded.

He was supposed to be there. You’d planned it. Talked about grabbing Korean BBQ on the way back, catching up. Just the two of you.

But he never showed.

At first, he thought he’d be five minutes late. Then the guys had pulled him aside. Something about a pop-up party. A girl in a leather jacket with silver eyeliner and too much perfume, had laughed at his joke. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Once, twice and he ignored it.

By the time he’d remembered?

It was hours too late.

And you never followed up. Never double-texted. Just… silence.

Which is what made texting you now feel like walking into a room he once trashed.

But still he had to keep up the image. Play his part.

He let out a slow exhale, jaw flexing.

Then, ego first, he typed a short what you up to.

It took a few seconds, maybe even minutes before your reply finally came through. You talked about being buried in case studies. Deep down, Jungkook still admired that about you, your fierce dedication, the way you threw yourself into everything with such passion. He loved that about you. Still did. But admitting it? That was a different story.

[Jungkook]: wanna catch a movie tmr? like old times. just us. my shout.

He hit send and flipped his phone over, face-down, like that would stop whatever was coming.

“Okay. I asked,” he muttered to the phone, more to himself than anyone. “Happy now?”

Taehyung howled on the other end of the call. “That’s our boy.”

The other guys chimed in, egging him on. But under the noise, Jungkook felt something twist in his chest. Not quite victory, not quite regret.

Somewhere between ego and guilt.

Just next door, you stared at the notification on your screen. Your heart thudded in your chest like it used to, back when his texts meant something. Back when the idea of just the two of you made you feel safe, not suspicious.

Was this genuine? Was this a joke?

Your mind spiraled. You remembered the afternoons in the park, movie marathons, late-night talks, the way he used to make you feel seen in a way no one else did. And yet, the hurt lingered.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair.

Maybe it was too soon.

Maybe it wasn’t.

You typed back slowly, fingers trembling slightly.

[You]: I don’t know, Jungkook. It’s been a long time.

You hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for whatever would come next.

[Jungkook]: I know but just trust me. It'll be fun.

You stared at his reply.

You read it once. Twice. And then again, slower this time. Hoping the words would reveal something deeper. A hidden meaning. A trace of sincerity.

But it was plain. Casual. Carefree, like he hadn’t ghosted you that night outside the lecture hall. Like months of silence didn’t exist between you.

So casual, so simple, as if he hadn’t spent the last few weeks making it clear that whatever you two had as kids didn’t mean a thing to him anymore.

Trust me.

You scoffed under your breath.

Still… a part of you hesitated.

As if he hadn’t looked you in the eye before and said, “That shit doesn't mean anything now.”

And maybe you could’ve let it go. Maybe you could’ve convinced yourself he didn’t mean it, that he was just trying to seem tough.

Jungkook was now this carefully curated version of himself. Confident. Distant. The kind of guy who laughed with his friends about dares and pretended emotions were weaknesses.

What happened to him? Who made him believe he had to become this?

You weren’t sure. But you did know one thing. You weren’t going to be his emotional safety net whenever he felt like slipping back into the past. You weren't going to sit beside him on a couch and pretend that watching a movie would make things okay again.

So you didn’t answer. You read his message, let your thumb hover for a second, then locked your phone and threw it on the bed. Do Not Disturb on. He lived next door. If he had something worth saying, he could knock.

Jungkook, on the other hand, stared at the message thread longer than he’d ever admit. He was pacing. He thought the text would get your attention. That it would spark something. Annoyance, sarcasm, even just a roll of your eyes. But instead, silence. No reply. No reaction. Just… nothing.

And that nothing started to dig its way into him.

He scoffed to himself. “Cute,” he muttered, tossing his phone onto his bed and rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t annoyed. But he was. Not because he cared. At least, not in the way he used to. No, this was about something else entirely.

The dare.

He wasn’t used to being doubted. Especially not when it came to girls, and especially not when it came to you. You were supposed to be easy. Familiar. A done deal. History, chemistry, emotional leverage. All of it stacked in his favor.

So when you ignored him? When you didn’t fall into the trap like he expected?

That stung. Not just because he fucking missed you. God, he did. But because losing to you would be a brutal hit to the one thing he guarded like hell. His pride.

Leaning against the wall, Jungkook peeked through the curtains of his window, eyes flicking toward your house like he could summon your attention just by looking. He didn’t care if it was real or fake anymore. He just needed to win. Needed to show the guys and maybe to himself that you were still in his orbit. That he still had you wrapped around his finger, whether you liked it or not.

Because in his mind, this wasn’t about friendship. It wasn’t about nostalgia.

This was about control.

And the game had only just begun.

You were thirteen, and Jungkook was as always, barging in next door, like he owned the place. Today’s mission? Drag you into what he insisted was the ultimate way to spend a Saturday: a Marvel movie marathon.

“Come on, you gotta watch these,” he said, practically dragging you by the wrist into your living room. “Especially Iron Man. He’s the best.”

You rolled your eyes but secretly didn’t mind. You had always admired how he could get excited about the smallest things, how his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning whenever he talked about Tony Stark’s snarky one-liners or those crazy flying suits.

Halfway through the second movie, Jungkook leaned back on the couch, chewing on a piece of popcorn like it was the most important thing in the world.

“You know,” he started, voice low and hesitant, “there’s this girl in my class. Sana. I kinda like her.”

You glanced over, curious but careful not to stare. You knew Sana. The popular girl with the effortless charm, the kind who always had the nicest high-end stationery and an easy smile that made her stand out.

“So, I asked her if she liked Marvel,” he continued, “and she said no. Not even a little. She said it’s dumb.”

Jungkook let out a long sigh, the kind that made you want to hug him. “I guess it’s just a silly crush. Nothing serious.”

You smiled softly, nudging him with your elbow.

“But you’re serious about Iron Man,” you teased.

He chuckled, but then his eyes shifted, locking with yours in a way that made your heart skip.

“I think… I love you,” he blurted out.

The room seemed to still around those words, and your heart jumped.

You blinked, caught between surprise and confusion. Love? At thirteen? You had liked him, sure, but love was something else entirely.

Then, almost instantly, Jungkook’s eyes widened. He scrambled to correct himself, his words tumbling out fast.

“No, no, wait! I mean... I love you. As a friend. You’re, like, the most important person in my life. You mean the world to me.”

He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t mean it like… that way. Not like that yet. I’m just bad at saying stuff.”

You laughed softly, relieved but also touched. “I like you too, Jungkook. But yeah… love’s a big word.”

He smiled, eyes warm and honest. “Yeah, maybe it’s just something we’ll figure out later.”

And there, on the worn-out couch, two kids tangled in feelings bigger than them, settled for the quiet comfort of a friendship that already meant everything.

[lokissweater]

hey! i really love your fics and i have a special request 4 my 19th birthday ( aug 16 ) . can you do inexperienced yuuta x inexperienced reader or frat boy/play boy yuuta x shy nerdy reader? I really luv u and it would mean alot 2 me if you did this,feel free to say no or ignore this if you want! no pressure!

OH MY GOODNESSS i could never ignore this! i can ABSOLUTELY cook this one up for you and i hope i met your expectations!! i wanted to release this right on your birthday, so here is my gift to you! <3 ILY you’re so sweet thank you for sending in a request!

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finally.

{frat boy/playboy yuta okkotsu x nerdy f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu is a typical popular frat boy player who’s never been told no, but at one of his regular parties where he spots your pretty little self in the kitchen, and you turn him down? his entire existence resets as he then cannot stop thinking about you and tries his absolute hardest to change the impression you have on him.

warnings: college au, afab!reader, fluufff, mentions of alcohol and drinking, yuta LOVES you, he’s a little weenie at first, character development yuta, no smut in this one!, cursing, party fight, protective yuta, yuta fights someone lol, slight sexual themes but really nothing.

word count: 5k

authors note: OH HOW I LOVE THIS ONEEE!! i hope i’m feeding you guys well this week with these fics hehe!! IM WRITING A FREAKY ONE FOR THIS NEXT SO STAY TUNED!! love you love you <3

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yuta okkotsu was the biggest player and frat boy to ever plague your college campus— having parties literally every other night and trashing the absolute fuck out of his frat house after every single one, living in the privileges of popularity as he was without a doubt the hottest man there.

he absolutely relished in his reputation, loved the attention, loved the stares he got, and had a body count that absolutely shot through the roof in numbers.

and yuta was quite literally a typical frat boy. he was loud and obnoxious, the most stubborn hot headed man to ever exist on the face of the planet, passed the time playing beer pong for fun and drinking, and had girls practically at his feet, him never having to work for anything to get in his bed and fuck.

until he met you.

you had timidly walked into one of his frat parties one night, shy, cutely nerdy, a little scared and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, your energy an entirely different one from his own as he watched you a little too much throughout the night, rehearsing his perfected plan of getting girls into bed with him as he finally spotted you alone in the kitchen after a while, approaching you.

yuta flashed you an attractive polished smile as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, practically cornering you in as you eyed him alarmingly.

“hey,” he sipped at his beer. “what’s your name?”

you awkwardly shifted, wondering where the hell your best friend was as the biggest player you’ve ever heard of was talking to you.

“y-y/n…” you stammered, your gaze barely looking at him but giving a small smile through your nervousness nonetheless.

“pretty name for a pretty girl,” he hummed. “you’ve never come to my parties before, have you?”

you shook your head no, your doe eyes finally peering up at him.

“welcome then!” he chirped smoothly and leaned closer to you, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol. “you here by yourself?”

“no i’m with a friend, actually.” you laughed awkwardly, your cheeks red with embarrassment but smiling politely through your discomfort, not wanting to offend him in any way.

yuta nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. “did you lose them?”

“i— i guess so—”

“you can stick with me then.” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face as he sweet talked you, it slightly faltering when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, but carrying on anyways. “you wanna head upstairs? maybe we can—”

“no thank you.”

he paused.

no?

“no?”

he was yuta okkotsu. no girl has ever told him no before.

you shook your head at him and gave him a sugary smile, your tone kind and polite as you started to walk away from him. “i’m sorry, i think i see my friend over there though! thank you for keeping me company, i hope it wasn’t too much trouble!”

he watched you walk away then in your tiny little skirt, and he felt stupidly offended. absolutely stupidly offended as he slightly scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, his body and mind literally glitching with the foreign feeling of rejection.

yuta tossed his empty beer bottle lazily in a black garbage bag and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his long legs already pulling him over to the beer pong table in the living room, opting to forgetting the entire encounter he had with you altogether and shaking it off.

except he couldn’t. he couldn’t shake it off.

his brain was buzzing and utterly reeling over the thought of your timid nature and soft spoken words and pretty pretty face from that point forward, thoughts that aggravated him to no end that bubbled up every time he ate, slept, was in class, and did basically anything.

he didn’t know why it was happening. he didn’t know why you took over his every fucking thought as he only interacted with you for like five minutes. but your aura was different. so poised, so shy and gentle, and it was like a red string was physically pulling him towards you everywhere you went.

yuta saw you around campus a lot more after that, you sticking out like a sore thumb and blinding his vision whenever you walked past him, your smile sweet and respectful towards him that lasted only a millisecond as you walked down further, his eyes watching you over his shoulder, soft.

you conversations with him were nothing but polite and casual as he tried to talk to you again and again, your body language guarded and careful, but your voice like silky honey, speaking to him with more kindness than he deserved.

yuta never seemed to be able to get past the invisible wall you built in front of him.

“a girl like her isn’t gonna go for a guy like you, yuta.” one of his frat brothers muttered to him, having been fed up with yuta’s moping and grumbling around the house ever since he saw you.

“and why not.” he gruffed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.

“because she’s nothing like us.” he emphasized. “she’s a nerd, respects herself, is way too good for you, and would never let herself waste time with a guy of your reputation.”

his frat brother patted him heavily on the shoulder. “just go back to the ones you usually go for. they’re easy.”

yuta only rolled his eyes and stood, but he really couldn’t deny what he had said. you were too good for him, way too good for him, his life completely mismatched from yours— paths never meant to cross as he solemnly watched you from afar, wanting you to smile at him the way you smiled at others, wanting you to talk about your precious nerdy interests and your studies with him like you do with your friends, and wanting you to just simply look at him longer than the usual casual hello you gave him.

but you never did.

in an attempt to try and talk to you again without seeming like an absolute fucking stupid creep like last time (something he quickly realized), he started throwing parties at his frat literally every single night in hopes of you showing up, scanning the crowd and sulking in a corner when he couldn’t find you, the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every time you didnt make an appearance.

he tried to go back to his old ways and hook up with the girls he usually did, tried to bury you in the back of his mind and go back to before, but he just couldn’t, his mind foggy and preoccupied with thoughts of you that invaded his every neuron, making him kiss his hook ups back lazily or straight up just cancel on them— stopping all together in the end.

it had been months, and yuta sat bored out of his mind on the living room couch during another one of his parties, not a single drop of alcohol in his system as music pumped and drummed through the frat that made his headache ten times worse.

these everyday parties were pointless.

he sat up and trudged to the kitchen, pushing past his friends for a beer until he froze.

there you stood, finally, leaning against the kitchen counter all by yourself, just like how you were when he first saw you.

his eyes flew open and he quickly smoothed over his white t-shirt with his hands, heart hammering against his chest so hard that it traveled down to his ribcage as he approached you, internally freaking the fuck out.

“hey y/n,” he greeted quietly and calm, trying his absolute hardest to convey sincerity towards you. “how are you doing?”

your eyes snapped to his and you leaned back a bit, but smiled. “hi yuta! i’m doing okay. how are you?”

he could practically see the wall you had in front of him, your posture timid and cautious, and his eyes only grew more insecure.

“i’m good! do you— do you want a drink? or something? i could—”

“oh it’s okay yuta! i’m fine,” you answered shyly, a grin on your breathtaking face.

yuta gnawed on his thumb, looking around the kitchen for something, anything that could fix the image you had on him.

the fridge.

“do you um—” he walked over to the fridge, almost stumbling over his own shoes as he opened it. “do you want maybe apple juice? or— or i have chocolate milk? or sunny d i drink like an entire dozen a day but—”

you giggled.

his head snapped over to you and watched your pearly smile, shining just for him for a moment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.

yuta sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and laughed along with you.

“sunny d would be great!”

he stared blankly, and then quickly nodded. “o—okay! yes sunny d—”

he ransacked through his fridge, knocking over several cans of energy drinks and beers before he finally found the sunny d’s in the back, tearing one out from the pack and closing the fridge.

“here you go.”

your cheeks glowed pink as you shyly took the small bottle from his hands, a cute wobbly smile on your face that made yuta’s chest clench.

precious.

he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“i wanted to apologize—” he strained out. “for the way i spoke to you when we first met.”

you stared at him.

“it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, and i acted like a complete dingbat with the things i said, so i just—” he scuffed his shoe against the kitchen floor. “i’m really sorry.”

you were quiet, big doe eyes blinking up at him in shock— until your frame gently deflated, eyes softening for him.

“you don’t have to apologize yuta honestly.” your soft voice soothed him, a sound he craved to hear everyday since the moment he met you. “i don’t think any less of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“you don’t?”

you shook your head cutely, beaming. “i don’t.”

he felt like he could breathe again.

your invisible wall slowly and gradually crumbled away the more you got to know yuta after that. he was still a little flirt, but only a little flirt with you, and he still did his frat boy job duties everyday, but he toned down the parties massively and stopped playing beer pong and drinking just for fun.

it would be a lie if you said you weren’t hesitant about yuta to begin with. you knew of his reputation and the risks you ran with befriending him the way you were— you well aware that he was trying to win you over, but you saw something different in him that he didn’t show to anyone else, and you trusted him, the goodness of your heart always giving people the benefit of the doubt.

he was trying his absolute hardest for you and changing his bad traits, wanting to become a person that deserved to be with you as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and your studies all of the time, him smiling adoringly at you because he genuinely loved so much hearing you talk to him and listen to anything you had to say— and yuta was falling practically head over heels over the way you gushed about your little nerdy interests, your eyes shimmering every time.

“and what’s this one called?” he asked softly.

you glanced over. “that’s the corpse flower! they only bloom for two to three days every two to three years.”

“only for two to three days?!” he whispered harshly, the ambiance in the botanical garden quiet and serene as you both observed the different kinds of breeds, flowers being your specialty of knowledge.

and he wanted to know all about it, even though he had a pamphlet in his hand that told him everything.

he wanted to hear it from you.

“and this one?”

he pointed to a vibrant scarlet red flower.

“that’s the cardinal flower. they attract little bees and hummingbirds!”

your words were gentle and polite, your eyes sparkling at all of the different flowers in front of you.

“oo! and this one—” you stopped suddenly, slowly retracting your hand and looking at him bashfully, your cheeks redder than ever.

yuta’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why’d you stop?” he looked to where you had been staring. “what about this one?”

“sorry!” you sputtered. “i felt like i was getting carried away and talking way too much…”

you laughed it off, but yuta only shook his head.

“no you weren’t. you weren’t at all.”

you peered up at him shyly.

“you can talk about anything you want with me wherever we are, y/n. i like it when you explain to me these things, or anything you know really.” he ruffled your hair. “i like listening to you.”

your cheeks adorned a pinky shade as you took in what he said, and you smiled so so big then, nodding.

“so what’s this one?” he pressed again, lightly.

the bed contained a mix of white and purple flowers, small and dainty as they swayed to and fro a bit with every breeze.

“those are pansies,” you leaned over the railing. “i like these especially because it looks like they have another pair attached to them on the other side.”

“like a little buddy,” yuta commented.

you laughed softly, “yeah! like a little buddy.”

he pointed to a specific pansy that had one white flower and one purple flower on the opposite side.

“that’s you and me.”

“is it?” you grinned. “who’s who?”

“you’re the white one and i’m the purple one,” yuta absentmindedly turned and grabbed your hands gently, playing with your fingertips— and you let him. “because you’re pretty and really fucking smart and way too nice to me, and i’m a douchebag and sometimes i’m a mean and scary old fart.”

you giggled loudly at his joke, shaking your head. “nuh uh. i don’t agree.”

“you don’t?” he quirked an eyebrow, a silly smile on his face.

you shook your head again. “you’re genuine yuta. really genuine. and you’re funny, you never make me feel embarrassed for the things that i love, and you make others happy!… sometimes.”

yuta laughed, “sometimes?” he softly placed your hands back at your sides. “yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“but you make me happy, always.” you finished off.

his eyes lit up like a firework. “really? so does this mean you’ll finally say yes to going out with me and give me a little kiss?”

you snickered and covered your mouth, your cheeks flushed. “nuh uh.”

“aww mannn,” yuta groaned and leaned against the railing, but turned his head to the side after a few seconds and looked at you, giving a tender smile.

your eyes continued to sparkle over the flower beds in front of you, but yuta’s eyes only sparkled at the one flower in front of him.

that’s where he started calling you flower.

“that’s okay!” he leaned back up. “i’ll keep trying.”

and boy did he try. each and every single day yuta tried as he brought you little treats from the campus cafe, or helped carry your textbooks to wherever you went, brought you neatly packaged flowers or sometimes would even pull his car over when he saw pretty ones on the side of the road, getting off and running to pluck them, handing them to you through the window with a goofy grin.

everything was bliss between you two, and your world only got brighter as you hung out with him.

but for yuta, his world got a little complicated.

his former hookups only grew sour once they found out about you, the girl yuta seemed to spend every waking hour with, completely blind sighted to the fact as they thought he would’ve dumped you months ago already.

and his frat brothers were just bothered. yuta wasn’t managing the frat like he used to before, like he was supposed to as their leader, neglecting the collective reputation they all had with him not sweet talking the entire female student body, or their parties not running every single night anymore— and even when they did run, yuta wasn’t ever even there to begin with, he was with you, something they quickly realized.

“you have to cut it out man,” one of them said. “this frat is turning into a shit hole because you keep spending your time with that girl—“ he stopped. “who the fuck even is she? i mean if it was layla fine everybody knows layla but—”

“who she is is none of your fucking business?” yuta snapped. “and just because i’m not sending girls for you to jerk your dick with doesn’t mean this frat is turning into a ‘shit hole.’”

some of the boys snickered.

“you wanna run the maintenance on the house? you wanna call up the fucking board and ask for the ten thousand fucking permits we have to have for our parties every year? you think you can run that?”

“no—”

“then be my fucking guest.”

“okay fine, i’m sorry man.” he sighed. “we haven’t had a party in a week though, we have to throw one tomorrow and you have to be there. then ill call it even.”

yuta snorted. call it even? whatever.

he begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to be there whatsoever but softening up to the fact that maybe he was neglecting his frat a little too much.

so when he called you up that day for your nightly phone calls, yuta asked for your attendance.

“i know— i know parties aren’t really your thing…” he pursed his lips, staring up at the ceiling as he had you on speaker. “but i’d feel a lot better if you were there… and you won’t be alone! you’ll be with me the whole time so—”

yuta sighed. “…i have been neglecting the frat a little bit, and they’re pissed at me.”

you gasped softly, “they are?”

“yeah but i don’t give a fuck.”

you both giggled.

“but i do want to make them somewhat happy so that’s why i gotta throw this party… can you come? it’s okay if not flower don’t worry—”

“of course i can go yuta!” you spoke cutely over the speaker. “as long as you give me a sunny d i’ll be okay.”

he laughed.

“i feel like…” you struggled. “them being mad and what’s happening with your frat is partially my fault yuta… i’m sorry.”

your voice was so worrisome, you feeling tremendous guilt on the other line as you bit your lip.

“what?” his eyes narrowed. “no flower, absolutely not. why would you think that?”

“because i keep asking you to hang out with me,” you spoke softly. “and i feel like im hogging you from your frat boy duties.”

yuta chuckled and shook his head. “i would ten times rather spend time with you than hang out with these fucking dummies.” he sat up on his bed. “i love it when you ask for me flower. keep doing it please. whatever that’s happening with my frat strictly has to do with me okay? not you.”

you grinned on the other end, your heart giddy. “okay.”

so the night of the party, you showed up to his frat looking absolutely gorgeous in your tight little dress, his hands instantly clamming up and his throat closing at the scent of your strawberry perfume and lovely face alone.

yuta tried so hard to keep his eyes respectful and not drift down to your ass or the way your perfect tits squeezed out from the top, almost physically slapping himself when he accidentally touched you way lower than he should have when guiding you through the crowd.

everywhere he went people were greeting him or passing him shots, him quickly acknowledging everybody and downing whatever they gave him as you shyly and timidly stuck to his body (which he loved).

yuta taught you how to play beer pong that night and cheered like an absolute fucking idiot whenever you would make it in, drinking the cups for you instead as he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, which made you a little weak in the knees that he catered to you so much.

the party was actually way more fun than the both of you expected, especially for yuta, because he proudly had you on his arm as you walked throughout the house, you trying your absolute hardest to ignore the stares you got from different girls and not uttering a single word about it to yuta, not wanting to burden him and take his focus away from rejuvenating the frat and his brothers.

all was bliss, until it wasn’t.

“is this her? the girl you’re always talking to?” one of his frat brothers stumbled through the crowd, the one that argued with him the day before, drunk off of his freaking mind as his eyes raked over your body like nothing.

yuta instantly picked up on that and stiffened, “yeah.”

he tried his best to swallow his annoyance and be civil as he gently placed a hand on your back and softly ushered you forward, you shy and clinging onto his shirt. “this is y/n.”

“h—hi.”

“i see why you abandoned us for a nerd man!” he slurred. “she’s fucking hot. never seen tits look so good—”

your breath hitched.

“the fuck you just say?” yuta tugged you behind him. “the hell is wrong with you man? don’t talk about her like that.”

you noticed several eyes looking over.

“what!” he hiccuped dumbly. “they do! why are you getting pissed—”

“i don’t give a shit!” yuta snapped. “don’t talk about her like that!”

he scoffed, swaying a little. “what, like you actually care about her anyways—”

“are you fucking serious?” yuta stepped forward and you tugged him back, your eyes frantic as they scanned over the crowd forming and back to him.

“no yuta, he’s drunk it’s okay—”

“she’s just another one for your body count, once you fuck her you’re gonna leave—”

yuta slipped from your grasp and lunged at him, tackling him and towering over him on the ground as he fisted his shirt and jerked him up, yuta landing punch after punch to his face as the crowd yelled, cheered and recorded around you.

“yuta please!” you tried to get his attention, your chest heaving in a panic as you watched the other guy land a hit on yuta, not wanting him to get hurt over you at all whatsoever.

yuta dodged another coming hit and beat the shit out of him, grueling him down to a mere pulp as everything around him went completely white and fuzzy, his body stinging with absolute rage.

he was furious.

finally, several other frat brothers broke through the crowd and pulled yuta off of him.

“that’s enough that’s enough!”

“guys stop!”

quickly, you grabbed yuta’s hand once they put him aside and tugged him away from the crowd, speed walking to the front door.

“you’re out of the fucking frat you piece of shit!” yuta practically roared behind him as you pulled him. “you’re out!”

your trembling fingers hurriedly turned the knob and opened the door, dragging him out down the steps to the porch and across the grass, not saying a single word to him yet as he kept breathing out desperate apologies to you with every step.

once you both were a safe distance away from the house and just a tiny bit down the street, you let go of his hand and turned to him.

“—fuck im sorry i’m sorry im so sorry—” yuta shoved the base of his palms into his eyes as he threw his head back, “i just fucked everything up between us i—”

yuta knew you would never want to be with a guy like him, especially one that couldn’t keep his shit together and resorted to violence the way he did minutes ago, right in front of you. a guy like that didn’t deserve you. you deserved way way fucking more. and as he tore his palms away from his face, eyes looking up at the night sky, he knew he completely messed up his chances with you for good.

his head snapped down to look at you, his eyebrows pinched and eyes contorted in absolute guilt and agony as he placed his bloody knuckled hands on your little cheeks.

“i’m so fucking sorry he said those things to you like that that was not okay flower,” he emphasized. “and i’m so sorry i beat him when you told me not to i— i just couldn’t stand there when he was talking to you like that man—”

he dropped his hands and cursed, his arms going up as he covered his eyes again.

“yuta it’s okay—”

“no,” he shook his head and looked at you. “no it’s not okay. you deserve way more than this and no matter how fucking hard i try to do better, the life i built before you just doesn’t let me.”

his eyes got so sad, saying words he didn’t want to say, but knew he had to. “you shouldn’t be around a guy like me flower, you really shouldn’t. fuck— i don’t want you around a guy like me. you’re too precious for that. i’m gonna end up screwing you over like i always do—”

“yuta stop.” you raised your voice a little, your tone one he’d never ever heard come out of your mouth, firm and serious in contrast to the sweetness you always gave him.

he shut right up.

“come sit down with me on the curb,” you pulled his arm. “please.”

he followed you and sat down next to you on the side walk with his head down, you taking in how yuta only had one little cut next to his eyebrow, pride funnily bubbling up in your chest as you realized how good he actually fought.

he did that. for you. he made a scene out of himself and protected your name.. for you. although you hated that he got into a fight, you knew he was trying so so hard for you, going above and beyond for a year now trying to fix himself to be a better man deserving of you, and you were immensely touched, no one having put even close to that amount of effort like he was in your life.

“you don’t get to decide what i deserve yuta.”

his eyes shot in your direction “but as a friend i’m telling you—”

you huffed as you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.

you kissed him.

yuta’s eyes were blown astronomically wide as you did, his heart no longer beating as he could’ve sworn he was dead right now, not believing that you were actually kissing him.

him.

you pulled apart from his lips with a smack, your hands still on his red cheeks. “a guy who’s willing to literally change himself without me having to ask, trying to be better for me everyday without fault for literally a year, doing everything he can to make me happy? definitely deserves me yuta. you deserve me.”

you pecked his forehead softly and pulled back again, his body going numb when you did. “so what if you beat the shit out of him? i would do it too if someone was talking to you like that i don’t care. i’d lose but i’d do it,” you giggled. “i didn’t like the fight because i don’t want you getting hurt, ever, period. but you literally scrapped him up like it was nothing, so i don’t have anything to worry about.”

he shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. “no flower that’s the thing you’re too sweet to me, i don’t want you justifying—”

“yuta be quiet!” you whispered harshly, giving him a silly grin. “you talk too much.”

you reached up and very very gently pecked the little cut on the side of his eyebrow, feeling a cool calming waterfall wash over his body at the feeling of your soft lips finally on him, something he’s wished upon every star for.

“you’re so good to me yuta, truly you are. and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this because i’m always nervous but—” you smiled endearingly. “i do want to go out with you, and i do want to give you little kisses. all of the time.”

yuta slowly let his forehead fall against yours, feeling like he was in a dream as the only emotion he felt at the moment was bliss. pure honeyed bliss as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, his face burying in your silky hair.

his hard work had finally paid off, and he had every fucking intention of keeping up that work until the day he dies, wanting you, his shy and timid precious little flower forever in his life— you changing him for the better so much that he finally feels like he’s properly healthy, in more ways than one.

“we’re going out tomorrow,” he mumbled into your hair. “bright and early. i’m gonna take you to get breakfast, and then we’re gonna go to that aquarium you’ve been wanting to go to for weeks now, and then i’m gonna buy you a souvenir, and then i’m gonna take you to get your nails done—”

“yu!” you pulled back and giggled happily. “you don’t have to buy me anything my goodness. just you is enough.”

he bit his lip, smiling like a fucking idiot.

“really?”

“really.”

“well too fucking bad i’m gonna do it anyways.”

he pulled you back in as you laughed and buried his face back into your hair, not wanting to break away at all, feeling like the richest douchebag in the world as he finally had you as his.

you scooted your face up then and nudged him, him pulling a part in response as you proceeded to plant another sugary kiss to his lips, yours lingering as they melted into a perfect mold against his mouth, yuta’s heart absolutely soaring, your red invisible strings close together at last.

he finally had you.

finally.

and he was never letting you go.

[cutehoons02]

Leather jackets

*pairing: frat gym rat boy Jay x book girl

*trope: sunshine boy x shy girl

*synopsis: What would happen if you were lying to read a slightly "spicy" book and not fit to read in the university library, Jay Park as well as one of the most popular guys at the university find out that you are not so innocent as you want to make believe? between betting, books with jokes cliche, stolen kisses, gym sessions with Jay what could happen to the book girl and gym rat boy of the university?

*tags: Lots of fun, they love to tease each other, the protagonist is slightly shy and a little insecure about her physique, fake innocent girl, needy Jay, touchy Jay, green flag boy, reading books spicy (Twisted Games, The spanish Love And Deception) virgin reader, protected sex,masturbation, fingering, pacifiers, pet names (bookgirl,princess,sweatheart)

14k (🤎)

💌The request and ideas were written by @m3wkledreamy for this story (thanks a lot for your help)

(English is not my native language)

You had just finished writing the draft of your essay for Contemporary Literature and Media. You had spent hours trying to piece together a coherent analysis of how Romanticism had evolved in modern novels, and your brain was now frying. You deserved a break.

Without thinking twice, you pulled Twisted Games out of your bag. Just one chapter was enough to make you escape from the reality of assignments, notes, and presentations. You curled up in the most secluded armchair in the library and began reading, immediately immersing yourself in the forbidden world of Bridget and Rhys.

"You know you shouldn't provoke me, Princess," Rhys growled, his deep voice rough against her skin.

Bridget felt a shiver down her spine, but she didn’t move. "What if I want to provoke you?"

Rhys's eyes darkened, his hand tightening around her waist, and in the blink of an eye, his lips fused with hers. The kiss was everything she had wanted and feared: burning, possessive, unforgettable...

"Burning, possessive, unforgettable, huh?"

A deep, amused male voice suddenly echoed above you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and with fear in your eyes, you spun around quickly.

There, standing next to you with a book in one hand and headphones around his neck, was Jay Park. The Jay Park. The one every girl at school sighed over while he ran a hand through his messy hair after a workout. He was the one who always had that smug grin on his lips. The one who, for some reason, was now looking at you with an amused expression.

"...What the hell are you doing?" you stammered, snapping the book shut as if it were radioactive.

Jay shrugged casually, sitting down on the armchair next to yours. Too close.

"I needed a quiet spot to read," he said, giving you a sly look. "But then I saw you... and, well, I couldn’t resist."

You clenched the book in your hands, your face burning. "Resist what, exactly?"

Jay crossed his arms behind his head, relaxed as if you were just two friends chatting normally. "A book girl so absorbed in her reading that she doesn’t even notice a guy like me right behind her."

She swallowed hard. He had been behind me the whole time?!

"You weren’t... reading out loud, were you?" you asked, a slight note of panic in your voice.

Jay bit his lip as if trying to hold back a laugh. "No, but with a scene like that, I didn’t need to. The blush on your face says it all."

You shot him a glare. "I’m not blushing."

Jay leaned forward, resting his elbow on the armrest of your chair, so close you could smell his aftershave. "No? Strange, because you look about to explode."

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to regain some dignity. "And since when does the gym rat boy care about books?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, the grin widening. "Gym rat boy? Now you’re giving me nicknames?"

"Call it poetic justice," you retorted, crossing your arms to give yourself a bit of confidence. "Since you like to tease people so much."

Jay stared at you for a moment, as if studying you, then shook his head with a satisfied smirk. "You know, you're more fun than I thought." You felt even more embarrassed. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a compliment or a mockery. Jay set the book he had in his hand on the table—a large volume on business management and international tourism. "Anyway, for your information, I do read. Just… more useful stuff." You glanced at the title and wrinkled your nose. "Bleh. Sounds boring." "And you? Do you get slapped by sexy bodyguards and rebel princesses?" You stiffened. "N-Not like that!" Jay laughed, clearly amused by your reaction. Then, as if he had an idea, he looked at you with mischievous, sparkling eyes. "How about a bet, book girl?" You blinked. "A bet?" He nodded, crossing his arms. "You come to the gym with me and do a workout without complaining, no sighing, no running away. I'll read an entire romance novel… the one you pick." You stared at him incredulously. "An entire book?" Jay made a vague gesture with his hand. "Sure. I'm a man of my word." Then he leaned closer to you, his voice low and provocative. "But be warned, if you lose… you'll have to come to the gym with me all week." You felt a shiver run down your spine. Why did it always feel like Jay Park was playing with fire? You eyed him suspiciously. "And if I win and manage to finish the workout?" Jay grinned like a cat that just caught a mouse. "Then I'll read an entire romance novel… and I’ll have to discuss it with you or watch a movie you love, I bet those 2000s romcoms." You stared at him, torn. On one hand, you knew you had no chance of surviving a workout with him. On the other, the idea of actually seeing him read a romantic book and suffer through the cheesy scenes was just too tempting to pass up. In the end, you sighed. "Deal." Jay extended his hand. "Handshake to seal the deal?" You hesitated for a second, then shook it. Mistake. His grip was firm and warm, and the intensity with which he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. Damn it, why was he so good at making you feel embarrassed? Jay squeezed your hand slightly before letting go, the victorious grin still on his lips. "Get ready, book girl. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into."

Three days.

Three days had passed since Jay Park had caught you reading Twisted Games and proposed a ridiculous bet.

Now, sitting exactly in the same corner of the library, you were drumming your fingers on the table, uncertain about what to hope for.

What if he didn’t show up?

That would be a relief. Her, at the gym? Come on. Just the thought of being surrounded by all those athletic guys, with their sculpted abs and ridiculously heavy weights, made her anxious. You weren’t that type of girl. The curves you had always made you feel out of place, too aware of every outfit that clung to her.

You had to admit it: you were insecure.

And Jay... well, Jay Park was the type of guy who seemed born for the gym.

Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a joke.

"I missed you, book girl."

There, standing next to you, was Jay Park.

Damn.

His hair was soft and slightly messy as if he’d just run a hand through the dark strands. He wore a gray sweater that fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and a pair of dress pants that contrasted with his usual sporty vibe. Casual, but damn attractive.

She immediately looked down, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"I thought you had forgotten..." you mumbled, trying to sound indifferent.

Jay casually sat across from you placing his phone and a water bottle on the table. "Forget? Not at all. I came to get my book."

"So... are you really going to read it?"

Jay leaned back in his chair with a mischievous smile. "Well, let’s just say I’m curious to see what’s so special about your book boyfriends."

You stared at him for a moment, then, with a deep breath, pulled a book from your bag and handed it to him.

"The Spanish Love and Deception."

Jay took it and looked at the cover. Slowly, he raised an eyebrow and glanced back at her with an amused expression.

"Colleagues, tension, forbidden attraction..." he murmured, flipping through a few pages. Then he looked at her with sparkling curiosity. "So, tell me... is Aaron your type?"

You stiffened, surprised by the question. "W-What?"

Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "Aaron," he repeated, emphasizing the name. "Is he your perfect book boyfriend?"

You lowered your gaze, biting your lip. You didn’t want to admit it out loud, but yes… Aaron was exactly the kind of guy who made your heart beat faster. Sarcastic, charming, protective, but with a heart of gold.

"...Maybe," you whispered softly.

Jay smiled, amused. "Maybe? You don’t seem convinced."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the way he was studying you. "It’s just... well, he’s the classic guy who knows what to say, how to treat a girl. He’s affectionate, but not suffocating. And romantic."

Jay nodded as if analyzing every word. "I see." He ran a hand through his hair and smirked. "So, you like romantic guys, huh?"

You felt your face heat up. "I-I didn’t say that..."

Jay chuckled softly. "Oh no, you did." He flipped through a few more pages, then looked up at her. "I wonder if Aaron would be man enough to handle a workout session with me."

You stared at him, confused. "What?"

Jay closed the book with a slight thud and leaned in even closer, his voice low and provocative.

"Tomorrow. 4 p.m. Gym."

You felt your breath catch. "T-Tomorrow?"

Jay nodded with a satisfied smile. "Just reminding you, the bet applies to both of us, princess. I’ll read your book..." he paused, his gaze flashing with pure mischief, "and you come with me to work out."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"But..." you desperately searched for an excuse, anything to get her out of this nightmare. "What if I’m not up for it?"

Jay stood up, sliding the book through his hands. "Oh, you’ll be up for it. It’ll be fun." He moved a little closer, leaning slightly toward her. "Who knows… maybe Aaron would even join you."

You shot him a death glare, but he chuckled, shaking his head.

"See you tomorrow, book girl."

And with that satisfied smirk, Jay Park walked away, leaving you completely in a panic.

16:00 – University Gym Lobby

You felt completely out of place. The gym was huge, with mirrors along every wall, rows of exercise machines, and athletic guys and girls lifting weights as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Not your scene.

You pulled your oversized shirt tighter around you, lowering your gaze to your black, form-fitting leggings. At least those made you feel a bit more comfortable; they made your legs look longer and leaner. But the rest of your body? No, thanks. Better to hide.

You fixed your high ponytail and took a deep breath. Come on, you could do this. It was just a bet.

Then you saw him, and you immediately regretted coming. Jay was whistling near the equipment, completely at ease, wearing an absurd tank top that hugged his sculpted physique.

Oh. My. God.

It was worse than you’d imagined. Much, much worse.

His biceps seemed to beg to be touched. His shoulders were wide and strong, but not excessive. And then there were the veins on his arms... those damned veins that stood out perfectly against his golden skin.

And his hands. Oh my god, his hands.

In your books, you’d read hundreds of descriptions of buff guys, but none of those words had prepared you for this. Jay Park didn’t look like he came out of a romance novel. He was the romance.

You felt yourself blush fiercely and desperately tried to look away, but it was too late.

Jay had seen you, and his smirk widened dangerously.

“Book girl.”

His deep voice made you flinch. Jay approached with his usual relaxed stride, holding a folded piece of paper in his hands. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, lingering for a moment on your loose shirt before moving back up to your face.

You bit the inside of your cheek, already knowing what was about to happen.

Jay tilted his head, amused. “Where are your book boyfriends? I was expecting you to have one of them by your side.”

You turned your gaze away, crossing your arms over your chest. “W-Who says they’re not here?”

Jay chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, if Aaron were here, he’d already be working out with me.” He ran a hand through his hair and got even closer until you could smell his masculine cologne.

Damn. He smelled too good.

You stiffened, but he seemed to be enjoying the situation.

“Anyway,” he continued, unfolding the paper in his hands, “here’s your workout plan. I made it myself.”

You stared at him suspiciously. “Should I be worried?”

Jay smiled. “Oh.” Then he leaned in slightly toward you, lowering his voice. “I hope you’re ready to sweat, princess.”

“Lower, book girl.”

You froze instantly, your face was already flushed from stretching, but now it was on fire. You slowly turned toward Jay, who was looking at you with a satisfied smirk.

“E-Excuse me?” you stammered, gripping your knees to keep your balance.

Jay stood next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You need to lean more. You’re not stretching the muscles properly.” Then, with almost provocative slowness, he bent down, demonstrating the correct movement. And damn, did he do it well.

His muscles contracted perfectly under the tank top, and you had to concentrate hard not to stare for too long.

Jay glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “What’s wrong? Are you distracted?”

You quickly composed yourself. “No! I’m just...” You took a deep breath and tried to bend further down, ignoring the way Jay was watching you with amusement.

“Better?”

Jay nodded but then tilted his head with a mischievous look. “Yeah… though you could still go a little lower.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Jay raised his hands innocently. “Not. I just want you to train well. You know, maybe Aaron in your books doesn’t need stretching, but here in the real world...”

You huffed, trying to ignore the quickening beat of your heart. “You’re insufferable.”

Jay chuckled. “Thanks, I know.”

TREADMILL – 20 MINUTES OF TORTURE

“Are you sure you can handle it, book girl?”

You shot Jay a glare as he, with absurd ease, ran on the treadmill next to you without a hint of exhaustion.

You, on the other hand, were already cursing every life choice you’d made.

“I’m fine.” You tried to sound natural, slightly increasing the speed. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you collapse.

Jay raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really? Because it looks like you're starting to sweat.”

You clenched your jaw and pushed yourself even harder, refusing to give up. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you surrender.

For a full twenty minutes, you kept the pace, even though your legs burned and your breath got shorter and shorter. When the timer finally stopped, you slowed to a walk and stepped off the machine with shaky legs.

Jay followed you, still completely relaxed, not a drop of sweat on him. Unfair.

“Wow,” he said, walking closer, “I didn’t think you’d last this long.”

You let out a slight gasp, trying to catch your breath. “I told you I wasn’t giving up.”

Jay looked at you with a mischievous smile, then reached out and brushed your face lightly.

You froze. “W-What are you doing?”

Jay gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You had a piece of hair out of place.”

The light touch of his skin against yours sent shivers down your spine. He was too close. Too damn close.

Jay tilted his head, studying your face. “Hey, you’re all red.”

You pulled back sharply, embarrassed. “It’s from the effort, okay?”

Jay chuckled, hands on his hips. “Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed!”

He laughed again, that gym rat satisfaction in his expression. Then he clapped his hands and gestured toward an area of the gym with a nod of his head.

“Alright, princess. Now we move on to legs.”

You stared at him wide-eyed. “What?!”

Jay winked at you. “I promise this will be the most fun part.”

Jay led you to one of the machines and pointed to the seat. “Come on, book girl, sit here.” You hesitated, eyeing the infernal machine Jay was making you sit on.

“Now you have to push your legs out,” he explained, squatting beside you, running his hand along the selected weight. “It helps tone and strengthen your muscles.”

You nodded absentmindedly until your eyes landed on the number displayed. 30 kg.

Thirty. Kilograms.

You stared at it in disbelief. “Are you insane?”

Jay laughed under his breath. “No, you’re just out of shape.” He stood up with a smooth motion, cracking his shoulders. “I do it with 80, so consider yourself lucky.”

You rolled your eyes and adjusted yourself on the seat, positioning your legs against the pads. “Thirty times?” you asked, hoping for some form of mercy.

Jay leaned against the machine, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thirty times.” Then he winked. “If you want, you can stop early, but only if you admit I’m stronger than you.”

You clenched your jaw. “Forget it.”

You inhaled deeply and pushed with all your strength. The weight wasn’t impossible, but it still required a lot of effort. After the first ten reps, your muscles start to burn.

Jay was watching you intently. His expression had changed now. He wasn’t just teasing you… he was watching.

The way your legs moved around the machine, the skin stretched tight under the leggings. How the loose shirt had just risen slightly, revealing a hint of your slightly tanned belly. And then there was the way your chest moved ever so slightly with each push. Jay tilted his head, watching you with slightly narrowed eyes. A full third? Or maybe a fourth? The thought hit him suddenly, and his gaze briefly dropped to your lips. They were a bit fuller than usual… What would it be like to kiss them? You were beautiful, and it was strange that in all the months he had seen you in the halls or at school, you were never walking arm in arm-with a guy. A part of him was glad you didn’t have a boyfriend because deep down, he was starting to be interested in you…

A sudden snap of fingers in front of his eyes brought him back to reality. Jay blinked, bringing his gaze back to you, who was watching him suspiciously. "Hey," you said, a bit hesitant, "are you still with us, or do you need a moment?" Jay cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow slightly to hide the fact that he had been lost in his thoughts. "I was just checking your form." You curled your lips into a grimace. You didn’t seem convinced. You ran a hand over your shirt and pulled it down slightly, lowering your gaze. Jay noticed the movement and your eyes dropping, almost insecure about the small piece of exposed belly. "I'm done," you murmured, avoiding eye contact. For some strange reason, Jay didn’t feel as amused anymore and nodded.

Jay positioned himself in front of you with a relaxed expression, placing his feet shoulder-width apart. "Watch closely, book girl," he said, slowly lowering himself into a perfect squat. "Back straight, weight on your heels… and then you come back up." You nodded, trying to focus on his words and not on how his black tank top stretched over his broad shoulders as he moved. Damn, Jay and his gym rat body. You were about to attempt replicating the movement when a shrill voice interrupted the moment. -Jay! What a surprise to see you here!- You looked up and found yourself facing a cheerleader in uniform. Tall, slim, confident. Perfect. The girl approached with a dazzling smile, positioning herself next to Jay with a self-assurance you could never have. -I always see you training with the guys, but today you've got company?- Her gaze briefly rested on you, almost distractedly, before it went back to Jay. You pulled your oversized shirt tighter, feeling the insidious weight of insecurity settle over you. It was silly to feel this way. But the way the girl’s uniform perfectly hugged her body, showing it off without a hint of hesitation… it was everything you weren’t. You lowered your gaze, taking a deep breath to push those thoughts away, focusing on your feet to avoid looking at the scene before you. Then you felt a light pinch at your side. "Hey!" You jolted, spinning around. Jay was looking at you with an amused grin. "What are you doing, getting distracted?" he asked, leaning slightly toward you. You shot him a glare, and he moved back slightly. "Don’t do that again." Jay raised an eyebrow. "Why? It’s fun watching you jump." "Because I don’t want to be touched." For a moment, Jay looked at you without saying anything. His smile faded slightly, and his gaze became more serious. Then he nodded. "Okay." His voice no longer held the usual lightness. He seemed sincere. With a nod of his chin, he signaled for you to get into position.

"Now, let’s see how you handle the squats." You focused on the movement, trying to ignore the fact that Jay was watching closely as you lowered and rose. Twenty-five regular squats. Twenty-five with a jump. By the end, your legs were on fire, and you were out of breath. Jay reached for a bottle and handed it to you. "Water and magnesium. You need it to recover." You took the bottle and drank a few sips, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. "Thanks." Jay watched you for a moment, then crossed his arms with a satisfied grin. "I’ll admit it, I didn’t think you’d make it." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." Jay laughed, then added with a tone that was slightly too pleased: "But you know what this means, right?" You looked at him, confused. "What?" Jay stepped a bit closer. "I lost the bet." His lips curled into a mischievous smile. "So, in addition to reading me that romance book, we also have to watch a movie together." You stood there, speechless. "Wait… what?!" Jay shrugged. "You did the whole workout, so I have to keep my end of the bet. But you don’t think I’m getting away with just a book, do you?" He leaned slightly toward you, lowering his voice. "You’ll have to pick a romantic movie and force me to watch it." You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile. Okay, maybe this workout hadn’t been torture after all.

Your phone vibrated for the umpteenth time while you were sitting at your desk, trying to focus on studying. The screen lit up with a new message. 📩 Jay: "So, book girl, Aron just pushed the heroine against the wall and whispered in her ear that he would never stop wanting her. Is this guy always like this or does he get even better?"

📩 Jay: "Because I have a feeling you gave me the book with the most tension and bickering in your entire collection?"

📩 Jay: "Anyway, update. I’m halfway through. When I win the bet, I demand the shortest movie possible."

You laughed to yourself, biting your lip as you read his messages. So he was reading it. You had to admit that it pleased you a little that Jay was so involved, even though he would never openly admit it. But you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The baseball team was busy with away games, and the most contact you had with him were those messages where he teased you or updated you on the hottest moments of the book. And then, that evening… The door to your room suddenly swung open, and Giselle stormed in like a hurricane. "Y/N, stop whatever you’re doing right now!" she announced excitedly, grabbing your hands and pulling you up. You looked at her confused. "What—?" "The basketball team and the baseball team won their games!" she said with a satisfied smile. "You know what that means, right?" You squinted your eyes, suspicious. "That we can go do karaoke and eat fried chicken to celebrate?" "No." Giselle stared at you seriously. "It means there’s a huge party at a fraternity, and we’re going." You blinked. "Wait, what?" Giselle ignored your protest and made a beeline for your wardrobe, rummaging through your clothes without an ounce of shame. After a few seconds, she pulled out your nightmare dress. A tight black cocktail dress with tiny sequins and a slight sweetheart neckline. Your worst enemy. "No, absolutely not." You quickly shook your head. "There’s no way I’m wearing that." "Y/N…" Giselle looked at you with her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "It’ll look amazing on you." You crossed your arms over your chest, stubborn. "That’s not the point." "So what’s the point, then?" You bit your lip, looking away. "…That Jay might be there." A sly smile spread across Giselle’s lips. "Ohhh, so that’s why you don’t want to wear it." "It has nothing to do with Jay," you lied shamelessly. Giselle sighed, then grabbed your wrists and started dragging you toward the bed. "No, listen, you’re going to the party, and you’re going to wear this dress. And if Jay is there, even better. It’s time to stop hiding under layers of baggy clothes." "Did you just insult my aesthetic?" you asked, feigning offense. "I’m saying you’re hot, and you need to start acting like it." Despite your protests, after two hours of getting ready and many threats from Giselle, you found yourself inside a crowded fraternity house, wearing the nightmare dress and holding a drink. And, of course, with your heart pounding at the thought of who you might run into inside.

The music echoed in the air, the bass vibrating through the walls of the fraternity house, and the smell of alcohol mixed with sweet perfumes filled the atmosphere. Giselle had dragged you all around the house, giving you a full tour as if she were a tour guide. "And this," she said, pointing to the kitchen transformed into an improvised bar, "is the source of every questionable decision of the night." She handed you a colorful drink that smelled of fruit and alcohol. "Drink, it’ll loosen you up." You looked at the glass with suspicion but took a sip anyway. Sweet, fresh, and deceptive. The kind that makes you forget there’s alcohol in it. A few minutes later, you found yourself outside in the gazebo, where a group of students was playing beer pong amid laughter and cheers. And then… you saw him. Jay. He was casually leaning against a table, a drink in hand, talking lazily with a girl. He almost seemed bored by the conversation, but that didn’t change the fact that he was damn good-looking. He was wearing a slightly unbuttoned black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms and those damn veins you had gotten to know in the gym. And then his hair. A little messy, but in that perfect way that you knew was intentional. Maybe it was your gaze that lingered a little too long because at one point he looked up and caught your eye. And he choked on his drink. Oh. You immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, pretending you hadn’t noticed. Maybe it hadn’t been that obvious. "Y/N?" Keeho’s voice made you turn, lifting your gaze. He was one of the guys from your study group, and he was… objectively handsome. Dark, slightly wavy hair, perfect features, and a slightly prominent nose that made him even more attractive. But most of all, he smiled in a way that lit up his whole face. "I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, with a genuine laugh. You lowered your head slightly, already feeling a bit more shy. "Actually, neither did I. It’s all Giselle’s fault." Keeho laughed again. "Well, I’m glad you’re here. That dress looks good on you." You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks. "Oh… thank you."

As you were talking with Keeho, you didn’t notice that Jay had remained still in his corner, the glass still halfway to his mouth, his eyes fixed on the scene in front of him. And he didn’t like it one bit. Seeing you, his book girl, in that black dress that hugged your body… and especially seeing Keeho looking at you that way? No. He didn’t like it at all. So he pushed himself off the table with a barely noticeable sigh and walked toward you, sipping his drink with apparent calm. But inside? It burned. You were still talking to Keeho, who seemed extremely comfortable while making you laugh with some joke. And that smile on your lips, the one Jay usually made you wear when he teased you? Was it now for Keeho? No. That wasn’t right. Jay reached behind you, close enough for you to feel his presence without him touching you yet. "What a sight," he commented with his usual slightly amused voice, but with an undertone that didn’t escape you. "I didn’t know book girls also came to these parties." You stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice, turning toward him. Too close. Too intense. Too… Jay. Keeho raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and him. "See? Even Jay is surprised," he joked, but his tone held a slight challenge.

Jay smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was something more dangerous. "Oh, I am." His eyes lowered slightly, quickly scanning over you. "Especially since I didn’t expect to see you in… this dress." You felt your heart skip a beat. Keeho laughed, patting your shoulder. "I just told her, it looks amazing on her, right?" Jay gave a small smile, but his eyes stayed on you. "Oh, no doubt about that." The tension in the air became palpable. You were there, caught between Keeho's relaxed confidence and Jay’s burning gaze, which seemed amused, irritated, and intrigued all at once. And just when you were about to say something, Jay lowered his drink and leaned slightly toward you. "So, Y/N… shall we play beer pong? Or are you afraid of losing your first bet to me?" Your breath caught in your throat. Oh, damn. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore how your heart was racing. Yes, you weren’t great at beer pong. Yes, you’d probably lose. But the urge to challenge Jay was too strong. "Are you afraid of losing, Park?" you said with a smirk, crossing your arms. Jay started laughing, shaking his head. "Me? With you? Book girl, don’t make me laugh." Keeho stepped between you two, throwing you a concerned look. "Y/N, we all know you can’t handle much alcohol. Maybe I should play for you." You scoffed, making a face. "It’s just small sips, I won’t die." Even though, inside, you were slightly terrified by the idea. Jay shook his head with that usual challenging smile of his. "Fine, but what are we betting?" You pouted, staring at him intently. "If I win, you have to watch an entire romantic movie with me. One of my favorites." Jay raised an eyebrow, amused. "You want to force me to watch one of those movies where the protagonist has a sudden transformation and ends up becoming the perfect guy?" "Exactly," you said proudly. "Because even a frat boy has a heart of gold deep down." He laughed, shaking his head. "That’s never going to happen, but alright." Then he suddenly became more serious, and with one step, he moved closer to you. Too close. You could smell his scent – a light aftershave mixed with the warmth of his skin – and your heart leaped into your throat. "And if I win?" he asked in a low voice, his gaze locked on you. You swallowed nervously. "W-what do you want?" Jay tilted his head to the side, studying you closely. Then he let his gaze slide down to your lips, lingering for just a second before answering. "I want a kiss." Your breath stopped. He smiled softly, that cheeky grin that drove you crazy. "But not just any kiss," he continued, lowering his voice, and you felt your stomach flip. Had he lost his mind? "What?!" you whispered, eyes wide. Jay took a step back with a chuckle. "What’s wrong, book girl? Afraid to lose?" You clenched your fists, your face burning. Damn Park Jongseong. "Get ready to watch a whole night of rom-coms," you said in a fake confident tone, even though inside, you were a mess. Jay lifted his drink with a satisfied smirk. "We’ll see."

Jay looked at you with a satisfied smile as you took another sip of your drink. You had already missed five shots, and at this point, half of your drink was already gone. When you lifted the glass to drink again, Jay stopped you, gently grabbing your wrist. "Okay, that’s enough," he said, shaking his head. "I don’t want to have to carry you out of here rolling." You nodded slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread across your cheeks. Then you sighed, glancing at the untouched glasses still on the table. "I screwed this up…" you murmured, looking down. Jay stepped closer, lowering his face near yours. "Nah. You just lost badly." You raised your eyes, glaring at him, but he just smiled. "But the fun part," he continued, tilting his head, "is that with your little screw-up, I just won a free kiss." Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. "Wait, what?" Jay smiled even more as if he was enjoying every second of your reaction. "You lost, right? And we made a bet. So…" He paused, letting the meaning of his words sink slowly into your head. You felt your face flush. "You’re impossible." He laughed softly. "And you’re drunk." You puffed out your cheeks. "I’m not drunk." Jay gave you a skeptical look. "Yeah. And I’m a book boy." You crossed your arms, trying to keep the little dignity you had left. He shook his head, amused, then put his hand in his jeans pocket. "Should I drive you home?" he asked, his tone softer this time. You hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay." Jay smiled, as if he had already predicted your answer, and gestured for you to follow him. The cool evening air made you shiver slightly as you walked beside Jay. He led you to the parking lot, and when you saw his car, you almost lost your balance. A Mercedes and not just any Mercedes. One of those that probably cost more than all the rent for your student room put together.

You whistled softly, impressed. "Okay… this is the moment I realize you’re really rich." Jay laughed as he opened the door for you. "Took you this long?" You shrugged, getting in with a bit of hesitation. When you sat down, you immediately felt the fabric of your dress ride up slightly on your thighs. Instinctively, you tried to pull it down to cover yourself more. Meanwhile, Jay got in on the driver’s side and started the car but noticed your movement. Then you heard yourself mumbling something under your breath. "I should never wear stuff like this…" Jay took his eyes off the road and glanced at you sideways, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What?" You quickly shook your head, immediately regretting speaking aloud. "Nothing, never mind." But Jay didn’t let it go. He turned off the engine for a second and completely turned toward you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. "Say it again," he said, his voice slightly lower. You felt a lump form in your throat. "It’s nothing." Jay clenched his jaw. "You said you shouldn’t wear things like this. Why?" You lowered your gaze, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "Because… they don’t look good on me." The silence that followed was heavy. Jay ran a hand through his hair, taking a second before responding. When he spoke again, his tone had changed. "Book girl," he said, and this time there was no malice in his voice. Just frustration. "Who the hell put this nonsense in your head?" He stared straight into your eyes, his voice lower and more intense. "That dress looks amazing on you. And anyone who ever made you think otherwise is an idiot." You swallowed, feeling your face burn. "Jay…" He tilted his head, studying you. Then he smiled slightly, but this time, there was more than just malice in his eyes. There was something else. "You should wear them more often, especially when I’m around!" You puffed out your cheeks, trying to ignore the warmth that had flooded your body. "Stop teasing me, Jay." He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned slightly toward you, getting closer and closer. You shifted against the seat, trying to create more distance between you, but he seemed determined to not let you escape.

His scent – a mix of musk, sandalwood, and something slightly sweet – enveloped you, making your head spin even more than the alcohol already had. "Can I touch you?" he asked suddenly, his voice lower, almost a whisper. You looked up at him, surprised. Jay tilted his head slightly. "At the gym, you told me you didn’t want to be touched. I don’t want to do it if you don’t want me to." Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know how to respond. Or rather, you did, but admitting it out loud was a whole different story. You nodded slowly. Jay bit the inside of his cheek, as if trying to hold back a smile, then smoothly took off his leather jacket and placed it over your bare thighs. "Is this better?" You looked down at the jacket, then nodded again. "Yes…" Jay leaned in even more, this time with more confidence, and his hand slowly traveled up to your cheek. His fingers were warm, a pleasant contrast against your skin. You held your breath when his thumb slowly traced the outline of your face, sliding down until it reached the edge of your lips. He brushed them with his fingertip as if memorizing their shape. Then, with a whisper, almost to himself, he muttered: "Fuck, you’re beautiful." And pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t hesitant. It was hungry, and confident, like it was something he had wanted to do for a long time. Jay’s lips were incredibly soft, and they tasted of expensive liquor with a slightly smoky note. Yours, on the other hand, were sweet, infused with the fruity drink you had had at the party. It felt like you were sinking into the warmth of the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a confidence that made your head spin. You felt his breath mixing with yours, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he tilted his head slightly to kiss you better. Instinctively, your hands rested on his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt cling to the muscles underneath. It was warm, solid, so real that you almost had to hold your breath. Jay smiled against your lips as if your touch amused him. He pulled back for a second, looking at you with those dark eyes that seemed to study every reaction you had. You were blushing, and you knew it. You could feel the heat on your cheeks, the frantic beat of your heart. "It’s the alcohol," you whispered, almost to justify yourself. Jay didn’t answer. Instead, without a second thought, he placed a confident hand on your hip and, with a decisive movement, pulled you back against him.

This time, the kiss was different. Deeper, slower. His lips brushed against yours with overwhelming intensity, leaving you breathless as his tongue gently slid between your lips, exploring you with a languor that made your knees tremble. A sound escaped involuntarily from your throat—a nearly imperceptible moan, but enough for Jay to notice. He smiled against the kiss, his hand on your hip tightening slightly as his fingers traced small circles on the thin fabric of your dress. "You’re dangerous, book girl," he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse and slightly amused. "You’re becoming a drug." Those words sent a shiver through you, a wave of heat traveling from your head to your toes. With a shy gesture, you let your arms slide around his neck, your fingers sinking into his dark hair. You ruffled it slightly, curious about how soft it was. "Oh my god, Jay," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "Your hair is… so soft." Jay chuckled softly, not breaking away from you. "What, did you think I had straw on my head?" You buried your face against his shoulder, embarrassed. But he pulled his face away slightly, tilting his head to look at you. And in his gaze, there was something new. Something warm, something that made you want to kiss him again. You stared at his slightly swollen lips from the kisses you had shared, the small bites you had both given each other and while keeping your arms tight around his neck, you asked if you could kiss him again. Jay stared at you for a moment, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Do you have to ask?" he whispered, his voice slightly rough, still thick from the kiss you’d just shared. You bit your lip, lowering your gaze just a little. "I just wanted to be polite…" Jay smiled amusedly but didn’t say anything more because this time, you moved first. You lifted yourself slightly toward him and kissed him gently, savoring every shiver his lips sent through you. It was different, more intimate. You let go, taking control of the kiss for the first time. Jay seemed to enjoy it. His fingers continued to play with the fabric of your dress, barely grazing it, as he slowly increased the intensity of the kiss. When he pulled back, he had a smirk on his lips. "So, book girl? You, who’s an expert on literary kisses… what’s my grade?" You laughed softly, your cheeks still warm. "I’d say a solid 8.5." Jay raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "8.5? Are you serious?" He brought his face closer to yours, his pout hovering just a breath away from your lips. "What should I do to get to a 10?" You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitating. You didn’t want to answer, but his gaze was pushing you to. He tilted his head, eyeing you mischievously. "Oh, wait… you’re thinking of something spicy, right?" You immediately shook your head, but the flush creeping up your face betrayed you. Jay laughed, getting even closer. "Come on, tell me. What were you thinking?" You turned your gaze away for a moment, then, in a whisper, you muttered, "Well… I’d need to feel your lips on other parts of my body to see if I can bump your grade…" For a moment, Jay stayed silent. Then he burst into a soft laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. "Wow," he whispered, shaking his head with an incredulous smile. "This isn’t the shy girl I know." You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to say—" "Shhh," he interrupted a satisfied smile on his face. "I’ll drive you home before you can say anything else that I’ll tease you about tomorrow." You sighed, already knowing he would never let you forget it.

In the days following the kiss, Jay didn’t miss an opportunity to find you in the hallways. Every time he saw you, he’d come up with an excuse to get close—some stupid comment about the book you’d given him, a teasing grin, a hand slipping across your back as he passed by. But his favorite thing? Dragging you into some hidden corner to kiss you without letting you escape. Like that one time in the library, when you were bent over searching for a book on a high shelf and suddenly felt a warm breath behind you. "You should be careful, book girl," Jay murmured, his usual low and amused voice. "You could end up in dangerous situations." Before you could turn around, his hands settled on your hips, gently pulling you back against his chest. He trapped you between the shelf and his body, his lips brushing the side of your neck. "J-Jay…" you tried to protest, but your breath was already shaky. "Mmh?" he responded, feigning innocence as he left small kisses on your skin, slowly moving down. You quickly turned to stop him, but it was a mistake—because as soon as you looked into his eyes, Jay took advantage of your hesitation, grabbed your chin, and kissed you deeply and possessively. "God, you’re a drug," he murmured against your lips before kissing you again, his hands tightening around your waist with more determination. And it wasn’t the only time. In the following days, every hidden corner of the university became your secret refuge. But then, that afternoon, you hadn’t seen him around. It was the sound of your phone that pulled you out of your thoughts. Jay’s name lit up the screen, and the message made your eyes widen: "I finished the book. Looks like you’ll have to spend some time with me at the gym :)" It couldn’t be real. But before you could reply, another message appeared. "Come to my place. Bring a shirt and leggings." Below, is the address of a building you recognized well: a luxury complex in the city center.

An hour later, you were standing in front of what seemed like a private gym on the ground floor of the building. The place oozed exclusivity, and you couldn’t believe Jay lived there. When you greeted him, the first thing you asked was, "Seriously, do you live here?" He shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Being the son of a CEO has its perks." Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you inside. Jay set himself up at the weight equipment with his usual ease, as if it was his natural habitat. The black tank top clung perfectly to his body, highlighting the muscles in his arms that flexed every time he lifted the barbell. God, Y/n, stop staring. But it wasn’t your fault that every movement of his seemed designed to distract you. "Can you explain to me why I’m here, exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms, trying to maintain some control over the situation. Jay gave a small smile as he continued lifting the weights. "Because I finished the book. And I want to prove to you that I read it. Feel free to ask questions." Frowning, you tried to think of something difficult. "Okay, then… In ‘The Spanish Love Deception,’ why does Aaron offer to take Catalina to the wedding in Spain?" Jay lowered the barbell effortlessly and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Because he’s been in love with her for years and he’s tired of seeing her think she doesn’t deserve someone who looks at her the way he does." Your lips curled into a pout. Damn. He chuckled and moved to the squat area, positioning the barbell on his shoulders. Your eyes inevitably fell on his hips, on how the muscles in his legs flexed every time he squatted down and rose. It was ridiculous how attractive he was even while working out. You decided to try again. "Okay, then… describe the scene where Aaron and Catalina kiss for the first time." Jay paused mid-squat and threw you an amused glance. "Do you want me to tell you or would you prefer I show you?" You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and quickly looked away, pretending you hadn’t heard. After finishing his squats, Jay moved to the leg machine—the same one he’d had you use that one time at the gym. Without a care, he set the weight to 80 kilos and got comfortable, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "So, book girl? Got one last question?" You sighed and tried something even more specific. "What does Aaron say to Catalina when they confess their love?" Jay, without even thinking, answered in a lower tone, almost seriously: "‘I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t know what it’s like not to love you.’" At that moment, you realized: you had lost the bet. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, and Jay burst out laughing. "What’s with that face? Don’t like losing?" You shot him a glare. "I hate losing." "Good, because I love winning." He shrugged, amused. "I’ve loved it since I was little." You rolled your eyes. "So now I have to train with you every day?"

Jay laughed and then, with his usual cocky air, sat down on the leg machine bench, lightly patting his thighs. "Sit on me." You looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. "What?" "You heard me, book girl. Straddle me." You shook your head, your cheeks already burning. "I can’t." Jay raised an eyebrow, that mischievous grin you knew all too well spreading across his face. "And why not?" "Because… because we’re in public!" He burst out laughing again. "Sweetheart, I’ve booked the gym for an hour and a half. It’s just us here." You quickly glanced around and realized he was right. The gym was empty. You hesitated for a moment, then, with your heart pounding, you slowly positioned yourself on his legs, trying to keep some distance between you. Jay watched you with an amused little grin and then shook his head. "No, no, this isn’t gonna work. You need to move higher, or I can’t do the exercise." You swallowed hard, a little scared, and shifted higher, until you felt something hard and warm press against your center. A small moan escaped your lips, too unexpected to hold back, and Jay noticed it immediately. A flash of amusement and desire flickered in his eyes as he lowered his voice. "Oh? Already got you like this?" You bit your lip, trying to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. He leaned in slightly, his hands resting on your hips with a firm grip. "I knew you had a hidden side, book girl." As Jay started pushing the weights with you straddling him, you could feel his muscles tightening under your legs. His hands held your waist naturally, as though you were meant to be there, while his breathing deepened with the effort. You watched him closely, paying attention to every line, every movement. A thin layer of sweat made his skin shine, and without thinking too much, you placed your hands on his taut abs. You felt them under your fingers—sculpted, warm, alive. Jay lowered his gaze to you with a sly smile. "What’s this, you doing a technical assessment now?"

You blushed immediately, trying to retract your hands. "I… just curious." "Curious, huh?" he said in a teasing tone, digging his fingers into your sides to make you jump a little. After a few more reps, he finally set his legs down and sat up with a still-burning look. "So… what do I have to do for that perfect ten in the kiss?" You looked at him confused. "What?" Jay stood up, catching his breath as he slowly made you slide off his legs, still holding you by the waist. "I’ll take a quick shower, then we’ll eat something and watch your movie… and you’ll see, that grade will go up, sweetheart." "Sweetheart?" you repeated, blushing as if you’d just heard a swear word. "Mh-hm, you like it, admit it," he said, winking at you as he grabbed his towel and disappeared into the bathroom. After about ten minutes, you were sitting on his couch in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt—his, by the way—while you tried to find your favorite movie to put on. His apartment was neat but lived-in, cozy with a few luxurious touches that left no doubt Jay was truly "the CEO’s son." When he returned, his hair still wet and wearing a fresh t-shirt, he brought two plates with him. "I did everything, sweetheart. Tonight, I’m spoiling you." He set the plate in front of you and dropped down beside you, making you sink a little into the couch as you nodded shyly. "Thank you…" As you ate, the conversation flowed easily. You, with your usual shyness, he, never miss a chance to tease you. "So, after this movie, can I say I’ve conquered all of your book girl heart, yes or no?" "It depends on how you behave." He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "Interesting threat." Then he handed you a small treat, cutting it in half with a spoon. "Half for you." You nodded with a smile, taking the spoon and eating your half while finally starting the movie. "Oh, so this is the infamous movie of your heart… let’s see if it’s worthy of my ten." And as the screen lit up, Jay already wrapped an arm around your shoulders, whispering, "Get ready, sweetheart. Tonight, I’m getting that ten."

His lips crashed against yours with a restrained hunger, almost frantic. The taste of the sweet you had shared just moments before mixed with the heat of the kiss, making it even more indecent, even more overwhelming. You moaned softly against his mouth, your hands sinking into his soft strands as you pulled him closer, nearer, as if just a centimeter of air between you could make everything fall apart. Jay chuckled against your lips, his hand exploring under the hoodie you were wearing—his hoodie. "You like wearing my stuff, huh?" he whispered in a low, teasing tone, his fingers brushing the warm skin of your hips. "Maybe because it makes you feel like you're mine." You blushed immediately, but a smile crept onto your lips. "Shut up…" you laughed weakly, without any real conviction. But Jay wasn’t waiting for an invitation: his mouth pulled away from yours and dropped to your neck, leaving slow kisses that became more intense, until he sucked on your skin decisively. "J-Jay…" you stammered, your words trembling between sighs. "I-I have class tomorrow…" "Perfect," he murmured against your skin, "that way you can think of me every time you feel one of these marks burning." He pulled you even closer, as if he wanted to carve himself into you, to claim you silently and viscerally. Then his voice changed, lower, warmer, authoritative but never harsh. "See how quickly you lose yourself for me, sweetheart?" he whispered in your ear. "Don't be shy now. You want it just as much as I do." Then he slowly pulled back, leaving you still gasping, and with that same arrogant, irresistible half-smile, he locked eyes with you. "Alright, book girl… how much are you giving me now?" You stared at him, trying to steady your breath. "N-nine." Jay raised an eyebrow. "Nine?" You nodded, biting your lip. Jay sighed dramatically and leaned back. "What do I have to do for that damn ten?"

He took you to his room without saying anything, but the silence was charged — as if every unspoken second was a shudder tucked under his skin. Once inside, he let you slide slowly onto the bed, the look never detaching from yours. He was above you in a moment, his hands planted on the sides of your head, his body barely touching yours. He kissed you with a slow bastard, as if he were savoring every second... and then he said to you, hoarse and low voice:

"You know you're driving me crazy, right? do you read those books full of dirty scenes and then be shy? Honey, either you stop it, or I'll teach you how to write a scene worthy of that book." Your breath froze for a second, but you didn't look down. He noticed it — and smiled, slow and cruel in the sweetest way. He stroked your hip over the sweatshirt, with a finger, and then added: "Take it off. I want to see everything. And don't try to hide, or I swear I'll rip it off." You looked at him with a timid challenge in the eyes, and obeyed. As the sweatshirt slipped away, his gaze devoured you alive. It lingered on your bra, on your already hard nipples under the fabric. He said nothing for a few seconds. He just looked at you. Then he licked his lower lip, and muttered:

"Fuck. Look at these buds ... so sensitive just for me?" he leaned his face to your chest and began to suck slowly over your bra, but with that deliberate slowness that drove you crazy. Every now and then he looked up to watch your reaction, his eyes full of desire but also of control. You pulled him by the hair, with a choked groan, and whispered: "I want your tongue on my skin..." He laughed, that low, almost cruel laugh. "I knew that under that good girl facade lurked a little perversion. You get excited to read those scenes in the books and then you come to me all red in the face. But now... you're the protagonist, And I'm not here to spare you."

His hands slowly went down your back and unfastened your bra with a disarming naturalness. When he saw your breasts, he barely opened his eyes and then stared at you as if he had found something sacred and forbidden at the same time. "You're gorgeous. And never again dare to doubt how desirable you are. Look what you're doing to me." The tone was fierce and hungry, but full of adoration. He lowered himself again, his mouth a puff from your skin, and whispered: "Do I kiss them so slowly or do you want me to bite them? Tell me, princess of novels... how much do you want me to dirty for you?" Your whisper was lost between the heated breaths. "Kiss me... but I also want you to suck them.» He paused for a second. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin on his lips. "Ah, so now you give orders? The bookgirl gets bold..." He shook his head slowly, as one of his hands lay firmly on your side, holding you steady, possessive and present.

"Honey, you have no idea what you're asking for." He leaned in slowly, his dark eyes pointed straight into yours, and then let his lips close on your hard bud, sucking it with a slowness that almost made you moan his name. You felt him warm, precise, damn confident. With his other hand, he caressed your other breast, first sweet, then more firm, squeezing it as if he wanted to learn it by heart. And you... stutter. «Jay... oh-fuck ... you're ... you're too ... you drive me crazy, I swear..." Your voice was trembling, a mixture of desire and surprise, as your body reacted to his every touch. He laughed, his mouth still on you, then came off just enough to talk, his voice low, scratched with desire. "I'd suck them for hours, you know? You have fucking masterpiece breasts. Full, soft ... they seem to fit in my mouth. And the way you groan when I touch them? That's all I could come for." You looked at him with eyes shining with excitement and pulled a lock of his hair slightly, still unkempt by his heat. "Oh My God ... who reads Spicy romance now? You're dirtier than all my books put together."

He laughed quietly, with that hoarse voice sticking under your skin. Then he stopped, his breath still labored, and he ran his tongue over his lower lip. His hair was a mess, scattered over his eyes, and the way he looked at you was almost animalistic. "Can I get off? I want to kiss you ... really.» You bit your lip, a little scared, a little excited as hell. "Yes..." you whispered. He immediately praised you, with that disarming sweetness that contrasted with the darkness in his gestures. "Good girl... that's how you do it."

But you... inside you felt something squeeze. The panic, that annoying little voice that reminded you that you were not "perfect". That you didn't have that flat stomach, that your body was normal, real, with curves that you sometimes hated looking at yourself in the mirror. You tried to smile, pretend everything was fine, but he knew you too well. He stopped. He really looked at you. "sweetness..." he said quietly,and his voice changed slightly. "What is it? Why are you shaking?" You lowered your eyes.

"It's nothing... just that... I'm not-like those girls you see on Instagram. I'm not sculpted, I don't have a flat stomach and—" he came up, his hand warm on your face. "So what? You know what I see?" He looked at you with a sudden seriousness. "A body that drives me crazy. A woman who knows how to make me lose control. And if you think even for a second that it's not enough, then I'll have to prove you wrong... with my tongue, with my hands, with everything I have.» He bent down again, this time with less irony and more intensity. "And don't pretend to me. I don't want the safe version of you. I want you. All. Your insecurities too. Especially those.»

you smiled. It was that shy but bright smile that made him lose every shred of control. He looked at you as if he had won a battle, and then he bent over you again, lips that began to descend slow, stubborn, kissing your neck, then your chest, your belly... every kiss was a silent statement, slow torture. he slowly sucked your skin to the navel, leaving small marks where his mouth had stopped too long. When he got to the edge of the leggings, he stopped and looked up at you with an expression that made you burn inside.

"May I? "he whispered, but his tone was more of a challenge than a question. You nodded, and without missing a second, he slowly pulled your pants off. When he saw your white panties with the pink rose in the center, he made a low and amused whistle. "But look at that. So innocent outside, so dirty inside. You like playing good girl, huh? With your cute panties and those books full of scenes that make you blush..." He teased you in a low, hoarse voice, as he approached again, leaving kisses on your tight, sensitive skin. "Open your legs for me, honey.»

You did. Your heart pounded into your chest as you watched it move between your thighs. He settled down naturally, his arms firm around your hips, as if he was getting comfortable in his favorite scene. And then it began. His lips, his tongue, his hands ... every part of him seemed to adore you. He would kiss and suck on your inner thighs, slow, methodical, as if he wanted to drive you crazy before you even got where you wanted. Every time you moaned about the contact of his mouth, he looked down at you with those dark, fiery eyes, and spoke.

"Do you like it when I kiss you like that? That wasn't in the book you were reading yesterday, was it? Or maybe yes... the scene on page 267... the one where he only makes her scream with his tongue?» He would bite you slowly, leave marks, and then blow on it to make you shiver. "I bet you touched yourself reading that scene. Now I'm in his place. Now I'm writing your story.» And then... he ran a slow finger over your clitoris, still covered by the thin tissue, and your breath broke into a gasp. Your body just arched and he noticed it right away. He stopped, but did not turn away. He looked at you with a new hunger in his eyes, but also a rare sweetness. "sweetie..." he said quietly, and made you tremble just because of the way he said your name. "May I? Can I kiss you there? Touch every part of you? Worship you as you deserve?» His voice was calmer, but still imbued with desire. No rush, just that uncontrollable urge to make you feel wanted. Not just wanted, loved through every kiss.

"Yes..." you whispered, your voice mixed with desire and tension. He wasted no time. His fingers grabbed the elastic of your white panties, slowly sliding them down your thighs. When he saw the noticeable moisture on the fabric, his smile widened into a satisfied, almost cruel grin. He lifted them up, looked at them, and then gave you a look that made you flare up.

"So wet it left its mark... and I haven't done anything yet. Are you already breaking up for me, little bookgirl?» You tried to close your legs, instinctively, but he opened them to you again with a firmness that admitted no argument. His hands rested on your thighs, holding you wide open for him. "No no ... no shyness now. You wanted it, remember? You asked me to kiss you, to touch you. And look at that show..."

He lowered slightly, his eyes peering at your intimacy with brazen adoration and malice. "Pulsating, shiny... it looks like he's crying for me.» Your breathing became irregular. Red-hot cheeks. "Has anyone ever touched you here?"he asked in a hoarse voice, without taking his eyes off. You shook your head slowly, almost trembling. "N-no ... never.» he bit his lip, evidently impressed by the answer. "Christ..." he hissed. "And all those perfect boyfriends you read in your novels? What do they do to their girls, huh?»

You blushed even more, but answered in a low voice, almost stuttering: "C-there's this scene... he kisses her inner thighs ... and then ... then he holds them still and... passes her tongue ... there. And watch her do it.» he growled quietly, a sound of pure hunger. "Little literary pig ... and then pretend you don't know what you want.» He came up again, his hands always on your thighs, his gaze ravenous. And before you could say anything, he ducked and sank, tongue hot, firm, hungry. No warning. No hesitation. He made you gasp, quietly scream his name, while his face was hidden between your thighs and his breath burned on your skin.

His arms held you still, clasped you tightly against his mouth, while his tongue explored each point with slow and then rapid, deep and ravenous movements. Every time you moaned, he responded with a low, satisfied sound, as if your every tremor was a reward. "You are as sweet as in your books, but much truer," he muttered to you. "And I ... I haven't started yet.»

His tongue was fire and patience. he licked, sucked, teased your clit with precise, hungry movements, which made you squeeze the sheets under you. He was kneeling between your thighs, his face sunk into your skin, as if savoring the scene he had been waiting for too long. "You're shaking," he muttered to you, his voice kneaded with longing. "I'm going to add a finger. Let me hear how much you want me to hear.» When you feel his finger slide in, slowly, he broke your breath. You arched your back, letting out a broken groan.

"Jay ... fuck ... it's... too much, but-well ... oh my God..." He smiled at you. That bastard smile that knows exactly the effect it has on your body. "So responsive ... and I thought you were just a good girl with love books.» As his finger moved inside you, slow but deep, his words struck you more than touch. "You read all that spicy stuff and you've never experienced anything like it, huh? Remember that scene where he fingers her while licking her clit? Well—» And he moved again, his lips back to where he made you lose your breath. You grabbed Him by the hair, almost to anchor yourself to reality as he upped the pace. And he laughed softly at you.

"You're taking my finger so well, Baby, made just for me. Only I can see you so lost. Only I make you shake like that.» He adds a second finger, and the feeling almost made you cry from pleasure. "I ... I'm-I'm going to come..." you moaned, no longer any filter. He looked up, eyes dark and disheveled, lips moist, the face marked by your desire. "So soon?" he teased you in a hoarse voice. "Then come. But do it around my tongue.» And when he came back to you, it was the end. Your body melted under his hands, his words, his mouth. And as you let go, he whispered against your skin: "Good girl ... so sensitive. So mine.»

You were still trying to regulate your breath, your skin moist with heat, your legs mushy. And just then, he took off his shirt. You turned to the side, pretending to look at the ceiling. You could not immediately face the sight of his chest, the sculpted abs that had just made you from prison as you came trembling under him. "Seriously?"he said in that tone that made you shudder. "I just made you come like in one of the scenes in your books... and now you are ashamed to look at me?» You stammered something, embarrassed, clutching the sheets. "N-it's not that I'm ashamed... it's that you're... a little too much to watch everything together, that's it.» He laughed, low and rough, and leaned toward you.

"Touch, then. If you can't look, use your hands.» He took your wrist and steered it slowly over his bare chest. Your fingers flashed on the hard, hot, live abs under the skin. You counted them one by one, in silence, until you rose to your chest, then to your shoulders, then you approached… And without much thought, you began to kiss him. Your neck, easy. Then that spot under his ear that you knew was his weakness. "Mh..." he groaned quietly, squinting. "You already knew where to kiss me, huh? The little bookgirl who learns fast..."

He kissed your temple slowly, but as you continued to explore it with your lips, he came up and began to rub softly against you. Its member, hard and hot, rubbed against your still naked and sensitive intimacy, and you both moaned in unison, a muffled, but powerful sound. You smiled against his skin and gently teased him, he shook his head with a half smile and stared at you, eyes bright and black. "Do you want it?» You looked at him without hesitation.

«You. I want you." he pulled off his pants calmly, never taking his eyes off yours, and when he was left alone with the boer His body, sculpted and taut, was a symphony of control and restrained desire. You looked at him, with a mixture of amazement and desire, without being able to look away. "You're staring," he said with a crooked, mischievous grin, as he reached out to the nightstand to pick up a condom. "Are you sure, sweetie?» You nodded with a small trembling breath, but you looked him in the eye. «You. With you, yes.» His gaze barely changed: from arrogant to incredibly sweet, as if that “yes” had been something he had always been waiting for. "Then ... give me space.» When you took off the boer He laughed softly, that low sound that sent you into a tailspin.

"What is it, princess? Did you expect anything less?" he gently teased you, as she adjusted the condom naturally. You gave him a playful look. «Only... wow. Some books had not warned about this.» You looked at his cock which was long and slightly venous with a slimy pearly white and he stretched out slightly and took a persevative from the nightstand and tore it carefully and you looked a little curious but also embarrassed as he slipped his cock around the condom very well and he giggled, then took a pillow and gently placed it under your hips, his muscles still tense for control. He gently stroked your side, looking a little more serious now. "If you feel something wrong, shake my hand. I'll stop whenever you want, ok» You felt nervous, but confident. "Don't worry. I trust you.» He kissed your forehead, tenderly, and when he began to push slowly inside you, every gesture was a mixture of slowness and respect. His breathing became more irregular, and you held your breath, feeling every inch of him, every accelerated beat. "sweetie..." he whispered against your skin, in a voice so warm that it made you shiver. "You're perfect. Made for me.»

And you, under him, between trembles and breathless breaths, you really felt seen. Want. At the center of his world. When the contact between you finally became complete, the world seemed to hold its breath. A slight discomfort made its way inside you, and instinctively you clasped your legs, looking for stability. she immediately froze, her jaw clenched, but the tone of her voice was incredibly soft. "It's okay... I'll stay put until you're ready. Take your time.» You nod, heart pounding. You stammered hard: "I ... I feel weird. But also full. And alive.» He kissed you softly, his lips on yours like a caress, while with his free hand he stroked your side to calm you down. He whispered small provocations in a low voice, of those that he knew how to send you into a tailspin, until, with a trembling sigh, you told him:

"You can ... you can move.» His first movement was slow, studied, almost reverent. The second, deeper. You both groaned, as if your voices were looking for each other at the same time. Every time he moved, you felt your body adapt to him, as if you were pieces of the same story. "You're taking it so well," he whispered in that low, cheeky, intimate tone. "As if you were made for me.» You gasped, fingers in his hair, and you could no longer hold back. The words came out confused, broken by pleasure: "I ... too much... but also not enough. I want you everything. Don't stop.» He smiled, almost fierce in his rough sweetness. "So lost to me, huh? Just like in your novels. But this time ... it's real.» The rhythm changed. He became more decisive, but always with that care that made you feel safe. Every moan you snatched from him, every caress, every look was a crescendo. It was desire, but also something deeper.

The sheets were now crumpled under you, and the air in the room smelled of warm skin, desire, breath. he was above you, his forehead streaked with sweat, his dark and burning gaze planted on your face. His voice was hoarse, as if he was holding back something too powerful. "God, sweetie..." he muttered, sinking once more into you, more slowly, more deeply. "I'm going crazy. Every time I catch you, you're tighter, wetter. It's like I want to swallow everything.»

He clasped your side with one strong hand, while the other stroked your cheek with a delicacy that contrasted with the gentle brutality of his thrusts. You trembled under him, legs trying to squeeze to contain all that pleasure that made itself feel stronger and more urgent. "I ..." you stammered, your voice broken. "S-I'm going to come again... I can't—" He silenced you with a deep kiss, his breath mixed with yours, then broke away and whispered against your lips: "I know, baby. I can feel it. The way you huddle around me, you're ready to explode. Foul. Show me how well you come for me.» Then, as if that were not enough, his fingers returned to look for your clitoris, teasing it with precise movements. You moaned loudly, almost screaming, and you clung to his arms, to his shoulders, wherever I could find a foothold. "S - I'm going crazy..." you stammered, tears in your eyes at the intensity of the moment. "...it's too much, it's too good—"

"Shhh," he whispered with a crooked, mischievous smile. "Don't say it. I know how much you like it. I know you're mine. No one's ever made you feel that way, has they?» You shook your head, unable to speak, and he looked at you with that look hungry and full of pride. «Exact. Just me. And I want you to come. Hour. Around me.» And you did. Your body bent like a wave beneath him, your back arched, your mouth open in a choked cry, as your skin burned and your sight blurred for a moment. He could still hear your response to his touch, to his voice, and his breathing became heavier. "Fuck ..." he growled. "Look what you do to me. I can't even resist. I want you too much.»

He continued to move within you, a little more labored now, and when you tried to close your legs, sensitive, still shaken, he took you forcefully and opened them to you again, pushing you slowly but firmly. "No, not now. Your fucking pussy is still calling me..." "I... it's too much, I can't do it..." you begged with a thread of voice. He lowered himself on your neck, leaving you a slow, almost reverent kiss. "Yes you can. You're perfect. So surrendering. So mine.» One last push, deeper. Then another. Then you felt him tremble over you, his breath broken. "I'm... I'm fucking coming ..." he gasped against your skin, clutching you as he let go, sinking all the way before stopping, completely shaken. There he stood, inside you, his face tucked between your shoulder and the pillow. Then, gently, he lifted his face and kissed your forehead. "Don't look at me like that..." you muttered shyly, looking back. "So how?"he laughed softly, stroking your side. "Like you are the most beautiful thing I've ever touched? Because you are.» You blushed again, and he took your chin between your fingers. "And now that I've seen you like that, lost under me..." he paused, his mischievous smile returning. "There's no escape, honey. I still want you. And you ... you belong to me.»

Jay slowly got up, his skin still slightly damp, his hair tousled like after a storm, his gaze lowered onto your naked form beneath the sheets. He bent over the edge of the bed with that familiar arrogance in his movements, but something had shifted in his eyes: a kind of tenderness hidden behind his crooked smile. "Don't move," he said in a hoarse voice, almost an order, but with the care of someone who had just read your soul.

Moments later, he returned with a small warm towel. He knelt beside you and began gently dabbing at your skin, as if you were fragile, as if everything that had just happened between the two of you wasn’t an explosion of desire, but a confession. "Your face is still red, baby..." he murmured, passing the steaming cloth between your thighs with disarming gentleness. "What’s the matter, can’t look at me after I made you scream my name?"

You lowered your gaze, embarrassed, absentmindedly stroking his rebellious hair. Your silence was sweet, a little dazed, a little lost. Jay smiled. He passed you his hoodie—huge on you—and lay down beside you. He pulled you close, as if his chest were home. His breath was slow, but his fingers never stopped caressing your back. "Trying to hide in my hoodie?" he said, lowering himself to your face. "Are you avoiding me? Don’t tell me you're embarrassed... after I’ve seen you so lost beneath me."

You lowered your gaze again. "It’s not that... it’s just..." you fiddled with the sleeve’s edge, "I’m not used to... all of this."

He chuckled softly. "What? Post-apocalypse cuddles? Or the fact that I made you come so hard you screamed my name more than you've ever screamed reading a spicy book?"

"Jay!" you whispered, hiding your face against his chest. "What?" he asked innocently. "You have no idea how many times I thought about teasing you after seeing you with those books? And now... here we are. You’re touching my hair like I’m your favorite comfort character."

You pushed him lightly. "You are."

He froze. Then he took your chin between two fingers. "Repeat it." "I said you are—" "No, no, no. Don’t cut me off. Tell me properly. Out loud." His gaze became intense. "...You’re my favorite comfort character."

Jay gave an arrogant smirk. "Damn. This is worse than a 'I love you' in bookgirl code."

"And you’re worse than all the book boyfriends put together," you muttered, but with a smile on your lips. "Yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Better than Aaron?" "Don’t compare yourself to Aaron!" you protested. "Too late, sweetness." He gently pushed you into the pillow and pinched your side. "I already won, and I think I got a nice 10 too. I’m more real, and I make you laugh and moan."

You blushed so hard he laughed heartily, then kissed your forehead.

After a few seconds of silence, you sighed. "Jay… so… us?" He paused. "Us, what?" "What happens now?"

He took a moment, then brought a hand to his chest in a fake dramatic declaration. "Are you telling me that having you all curled up under my hoodie, in my bed, with trembling legs, isn’t enough? You want words too?" You looked up. "I’m being serious."

His gaze softened, becoming calmer, more sincere. "And me?" He moved closer, brushing your chin with his nose. "I like you, Y/n. Like… in a way I hate, because it makes me soft. But also in a way I love, because it makes me yours."

You smiled softly. "So you’re mine?" He laughed. "Only if you’re mine." "I am."

Jay paused, then gently rolled you onto him and hugged you as if he had found home. "Then there’s nothing more to say. Now sleep, little bookgirl. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed and steal another spicy novel so I can figure out what you want me to do next."

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[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or how reader made a friend in the most unconventional way.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another,, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ NOW A SERIES! i hope you guys like this! i'm considering making this into a series; if i do, i think i'd do it the same way this fic is, aka some narration but mostly 'chatting' between rafe and reader. anyway, let me know if you want it to continue!! i've been feeling down for a few weeks now, so something simple and fun like this was a good way to get back into the flow of writing.

i thought about making this a smau, but doing the chats like this feels more authentic to the 2000s chatroom experience y’know

you were sitting on your bed, your laptop open on a website called KildareUChats, a website that was apparently meant for the students of your university to be able to anonymously chat with other students, your friend having told you to give it a try, knowing that it’d be difficult for you to do in person.

you didn't really see the point of it; although your social circle was in no way huge, you were happy enough with it, really. never having been great with new people, you'd made three friends on your freshman year of college and simply stuck to them. it didn't help that whenever you tried to talk to someone new, it felt like someone was choking you.

but this was online. the person on the other side would never know who you are, and you'd never have to actually be face-to-face with them. your cursor moved to hover over the 'REGISTER' button, and you filled the page out with your basic information, name, school email, birth date... but when the website asked for a username, you couldn't help but purse your lips as you looked around your dorm room, from the fairy lights you'd hung up on walls that now glowed in a yellowish hue, to the several books stacked on the floor, to the dead roses on your desk...

but when your eyes landed on your nightstand, you spotted a book of poems by edgar allan poe, and your lips quirked up into a small smile. after you typed the name 'AnnabelLee' into the username field, a green check mark appeared next to it to signify it was available.

after setting a password, you were redirected to a page that said 'WELCOME TO KILDAREUCHATS AnnabelLee! CLICK HERE IF YOU WISH TO CONNECT WITH A RANDOM STRANGER!'. you clicked the button, your cursor turning into a circle for a moment as it loaded, before you were redirected to a chatroom with a pop-up.

KILDAREUCHATS IS CONNECTING YOU TO A STRANGER...

KILDAREUCHATS HAS CONNECTED YOU! REMEMBER TO TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED <3 SAY HI!

you stared at your computer screen, biting into your lower lip. you had no idea what you were supposed to say; outside of the people you already knew, you were helpless when talking to people, the words always getting stuck in your throat, or vanishing from your mind. angel's white fur blended in with your white sheets as your hand moved to absentmindedly stroke her, the little cat purring in her sleep. but before your hand could dart out to type something on your laptop, a message appeared on the screen.

STRANGER: heyy

taking in a deep breath, you shook your head, as if shaking all doubts and worries out of it. the site was anonymous; that was the whole point. and your therapist told you, that for your social anxiety to get better, you should try go socialize. mingle. you took the bottle of cheap white wine you'd snuck into your dorm, taking a large swig straight out of the bottle before setting it back down, your hands flying to your keyboard.

YOU: hi :)

STRANGER: wsp?

YOU: ...wasp?

STRANGER: lmao no... what's up?

YOU: sorry, i'm not good with that kind of lingo haha. YOU: nothing much. i'm hanging out with my cat.

STRANGER: damn, do you have an off-campus apartment or something?

YOU: nope :) YOU: don't tell my ra.

STRANGER: shit you have a CAT in your dorm?

YOU: if you tell on me, i'm gonna have to hunt you down and kill you.

STRANGER: lucky for you this is anonymous STRANGER: and i'm not a snitch lmao STRANGER: so, what are you doing on this thing at 12am on a friday night? no hot parties?

YOU: honestly, i think i'd rather put a noose around my neck than go to a party. YOU: i'm just in my room drinking wine. decided to try this site after my friend suggested it. YOU: what about you?

STRANGER: damn, kinky STRANGER: i do have a 'hot party' to go to but i also have an essay due in nine hours and the prof already hates my ass

YOU: so you decided to not write your essay and instead procrastinate by chatting with some random stranger?

STRANGER: exactly! you get it STRANGER: if i even have my laptop in front of me, i'm counting that as me writing my essay

YOU: what's it about?

STRANGER: what kind of a role religion has when it comes to politics and shit

YOU: and let me guess, that's not a topic you enjoy studying in your free time?

STRANGER: you know me so well already

YOU: if it helps, i'm also studying. or, procrastinating studying. YOU: i have a chemistry exam on monday :(

STRANGER: ...and you're studying for it on a friday already? STRANGER: i just read for exams a few minutes before they start STRANGER: compared to me you're like a genius

YOU: eyeroll. YOU: and that's why you have trouble writing an essay! YOU: you're probably missing out on a keg stand at your 'hot party'.

STRANGER: i can't believe you're making fun of the art of the stand

YOU: you'll live.

STRANGER: how do you know? maybe i'm the god of the kegstand and every time a human loses faith in me, i grow weaker

YOU: are you? YOU: oh sacred frat god? YOU: shall i make an offering for you at your altar? would that appease your distaste towards me?

STRANGER: you shall

YOU: okay, how about these for an offering: YOU: a white claw, a buzz ball, a red solo cup with a strange mixture of different kinds of alcohols, and a vape pen?

STRANGER: those appease me much, mere mortal STRANGER: also mango-flavored juul pods

YOU: you're so weird.

STRANGER: says the person who's hanging with her cat on a friday night

YOU: how do you figure i'm a her?

STRANGER: oh please STRANGER: no man would disrespect the fine art of the keg stand

YOU: got me there, frat boy.

STRANGER: that's very presumptuous STRANGER: i could just be a tomboy

YOU: please. YOU: if you're a girl then i'm sasquatch.

STRANGER: don't worry, i don't mind a little body hair

YOU: i hate you.

glancing at the clock on your wall, you'd realized that thirty minutes had already gone by. you let out a small sigh, rubbing your eyes.

YOU: i should get going. i can't keep procrastinating.

STRANGER: already?

YOU: what, are you gonna miss me or something?

STRANGER: hey, if i get a pic of bigfoot i'm gonna be making millions, i just have capitalistic tendencies

YOU: fair point.

STRANGER: you should add me as a friend

YOU: you can do that??? i thought this was an anonymous chat.

STRANGER: yeah you can lmao why else would you need to set a username STRANGER: i'll just do it

and soon enough, a pop-up appeared on your screen, with the text 'STRANGER HAS REQUESTED TO ADD YOU AS FRIEND.' along with the buttons 'ACCEPT' and 'DENY'.

you pursed your lips, your finger lingering over the touchpad, first dragging it over the button reading 'DENY', before you let out a sigh, taking a large swig from the bottle of wine, moving the cursor to 'ACCEPT' and pressing it before you could regret it.

the pop-up was now replaced with another one, reading 'CONGRATS AnnabelLee YOU ARE NOW FRIENDS WITH MalachiConstant' and when you read the stranger's name, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. you clicked the red 'x' that closed the pop-up, and the word STRANGER in your chat logs was now replaced by MalachiConstant.

YOU: really? vonnegut?

MalachiConstant: what? i don't seem like the type to read?

YOU: just surprising!

MalachiConstant: says the girl with the hard-on for poe MalachiConstant: which isn't surprising at all

YOU: har har. YOU: goodnight, weird vonnegut frat boy.

MalachiConstant: goodnight, weird poe girl

YOU HAVE LOGGED OUT OF KILDAREUCHATS.

[forlix]

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy. He moves to pour himself a shot.

“What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

That is, aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus as he pores over his production homework. You can hear music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He startles as if coming out of a trance, then begins to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, but only after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. You brush a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly that you barely remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Always,” you say. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum.

“Says you,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

Your lips find each other’s again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity. Some time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to whisper for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing; you’re hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you breathe. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear.

Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes—but happiness looks better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[verdantchan]

Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’  Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together. 

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty  and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed. 

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two. 

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest. 

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

 ‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies. 

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

 You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck. 

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell. 

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’  his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes. 

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you. 

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him? 

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’ 

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing. 

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below. 

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly,  messy waves falling in his face. 

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything. 

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow. 

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed. 

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away 

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole,  your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more 

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting. 

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size 

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you. 

 ‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’ 

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure. 

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily. 

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick.. 

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high  

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue. 

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy. 

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it. 

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

[virtual-bunny]

“ HEY NERDY BOY ! ”

random headcannons about nerdjo because he turns me on

pairings: nerd! gojo x chubby fem! reader

WARNINGS: SMUT but not too detailed, some body image issues, probably some writing errors :3

a/n: i might come back every now and then if a new idea pops up in my head hehe

ARTIST CREDS: @/N06ARA ON TWITTER

✧ nerdjo who can almost cry over how beautiful he thinks you are

✧ nerdjo who stammers over his words when you wear shorts that squeeze your thighs just right

✧ nerdjo who clings onto your body and inhales your scent and gets a boner instantly as he grips your love handles

✧ nerdjo who slouches so you can give him a kiss, his glasses slidding down his nose bridge as your lips touch his cheeks, his cheek warm from him being flustered, and when you pull away, nerdjo’s eyes are almost crossed eyed as he sighs deeply

✧ nerdjo who uses your tummy as a stress ball when you sit next to him while he does his physics homework

✧ nerdjo who lays on your tummy as you play with his hair while he sleeps, saliva spilling from the side of his mouth

✧ nerdjo whose so head over heels for you that he begs you to let him carry your books and backpack so he can trail behind you to see the way your ass and thighs jiggle

✧ nerdjo who helps you with your homework and pinches your cheek, side or thighs whenever you get something wrong

✧ nerdjo who holds onto your stomach when you’re riding him, his face flushed and glasses crooked as he looks up at you with drunken eyes

✧ nerdjo who stumbles to catch up to you because he was too caught up watching you walk infront of him

✧ nerdjo who rolls his eyes when his jock friend geto teases him when he sees that gojo isn’t paying attention to lecture “she’s got you wrapped around her finger doesn’t she?” “wrapped around her thighs” nerdjo sighs without a second thought

✧ nerdjo who likes to put his hands around your tummy and gently squeeze it whenever you two are watching tv and you’re sitting between his legs

✧ nerdjo who fivershly pumps his cock at the thought of your round body jiggling when you ride him, or when you laugh, or when you walk

✧ nerdjo who makes snarky comments at you when you try to show him that “you’re way smarter than he is”

✧ nerdjo who reads out his physics notebook out loud just to make you mad because you hate physics

✧ nerdjo who goes all red whenever he brings you gifts on his way to your dorm

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t like going outside and rather stay home watching Teen Titans but still does because he knows you like to go out on dates

✧ nerdjo who used to bite his pencils out of habit but now bites your chubby hands if you’re sitting next to him as he does his homework or helps you with yours

✧ nerdjo who has to assure you he loves you and thinks you’re as beautiful as “The Euler-Lagrange Equation” (you have no idea what this means)

✧ nerdjo who puts his hands under your stomach, thighs and boobs to keep them warm

✧ nerdjo who bores you to death as he talk about quantum physics but you don’t say anything because you find it cute the way he sometimes spits by accident when he rambled and how his glasses slowly fall when’s he’s making movements as he talks

✧ nerdjo who likes to prove you wrong whenever you try to be a “smarty pants”

✧ nerdjo who softens when you go up to him while he was working on a project and tell him you’re worried about him because he looks like he hasn’t slept in three days

✧ nerdjo who mutters to himself in class when a stupid frat guy tries to answer the professors question, obviously saying the wrong answer but clearly only doing it to get laughs out of everyone. “what an idiot.” gojo grits to himself

✧ nerdjo who looks seriously shocked when he’s helping you with your homework and you get the wrong answer even though the right answer is CLEARLY right in front of your eyes “love… you seriously don’t know the answer…?”

✧ nerdjo who spends HOURS in the library to a room all by himself, books, papers, pens and pencils all scattered around the table while trying to get his work done, his hair messy and eyebrows furrowed, but when you text him saying you were gonna drop off food for him, his whole demeanor turns soft and giddy thinking about how he’s gonna be able to see you

✧ nerdjo who if he’s not doing homework or reading, is playing or watching digimon in your dorm, explaining everything he possibly can so you can catch up to the lore (you stopped listening a long time ago)

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t really talk much in class but when he does, the professors have to cut him off because gojo can talk for HOURS

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his lap as he codes on his computer

✧ nerdjo who can solve a rubix cube in a minute and always does when you ask him to (for your own entertainment)

✧ nerdjo whos into physics and computer science

✧ nerdjo who awkwardly puts his arm around your shoulder when the two of you are walking back to your dorm (he nearly trips)

✧ nerdjo who when you tell him a fun science fact, crosses his arms, leans back on the couch and goes “well ACTUALY-“ it’s too late to stop him, he’s already yapping to you on how the fact is wrong

✧ nerdjo who starts looking stupid now because you two have a class together when the new semester started and he can’t concentrate at all because he’s too concentrated looking at YOU

✧ nerdjo who tries to be freaky by putting his shaky hand on your upper thigh but you smack it away and he gives you a sad puppy look as he fixes his glasses, you swear you could see tears forming in his eyes

✧ nerdjo who runs to you when he finishes a prototype for whatever sciencey class he has and with full confidence says “you’re looking at the new science prodigy babe!” “uh huh” you say

✧ nerdjo who goes to the library again to study, he’s so stressed but he’s glad you came along, that’s until you went under the desk he was sitting at, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers JUST barely, hes literally gripping onto the table, face flushed hair messy crooked glasses and chest heaving trying so hard not to make it obvious you have his dick in your mouth

✧ nerdjo who makes you tag along with him to the nearest store to get the newest Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who makes you gasp when you turn around for one second and look back to see him fighting a literal ten year old for a box set of Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t show you memes, but shows you reddit posts that you have no interest in looking at

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his face, but not to eat you out, but so your thighs can squish his face. he says that “it de-stresses him” and when you go to complain he says “it’s scientifically proven that it does”

✧ nerdjo who SOMETIMES is a cocky asshole in class, and when an acquaintance of yours who’s also in gojos’s class tells you how much of an asshole your boyfriend is, you straighten nerdjo up by riding his face nonstop to the point he’s crying because HE’S not getting any action

✧ nerdjo who you convince that overstimulating him will “de-stress him” and “make him focus better” so when you tied him up in your bed with a vibrator wrapped on the head of his cock, he’s whining, crying, squirming, eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head and pleading you to “let him do anything to you” (when you finally let him cum he tells you the next day that his focus is 97.56% better than it was the day before)

✧ nerdjo who’s so competitive when the two of you play video games he forgets you’re his GIRLFRIEND and is brutal with the insults when you loose

✧ nerdjo who’s actually really strong and likes to carry you around your dorm or outside when the two of you go for a walk. and even though you’re protesting and telling him you “don’t wanna hurt him” all nerdjo says is “just cause i’m smart doesn’t mean i’m not strong”

✧ nerdjo who likes to suck your clit while gripping your tummy

✧ nerdjo who likes to grip your fupa cause he’s weird like that

✧ nerdjo who ANALYZES your pussy and your actions whenever he’s fingering you or fucking you so he can make you feel better for the next time you two fuck (you always have a stronger orgasam each time after the other)

✧ nerdjo who bites his nails and gets told off by you (he immediately begs for your forgiveness)

✧ nerdjo who kisses your tummy whenever he lays down on your lap and turns his head so he’s looking up at you and says “you’re the most angelic thing i’ve ever seen, you know that?” he sighs contently while pushing his glasses up and giving you the stupidest toothy smile