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sanguineterrain · 3 months ago

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knight in shining helmet | jason todd

Summary: You're a princess who's visiting Gotham City. You weren't loving it to begin with—then you of course had to get kidnapped. Needless to say, your expectations of the night are in hell. You're hoping, at least, that you'll be rescued by the famous Batman. Instead, it's the infamous Red Hood that finds you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x princess!fem!reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings/tags: kidnapping, rescue, reader and jason don't get along at first, violence, drugging, meet-ugly, 7-eleven food as a courting strategy, kissing, softie jason (he always makes an appearance somehow!), strangers to...not-so-strangers.

the divider

You suppose that, for a princess, you ought to have expected a kidnapping to pan out at least once in your life.

You just didn't think it would happen tonight. In Gotham City. A place you weren't loving to begin with.

“Unhand me!” you scream as soon as your taker's filthy, sweaty hand leaves your face. “You'll be executed for this!”

You're not actually sure of Gotham's death penalty policy, but you feel like it's something you should throw in. In any case, the three men who've dragged you away, tied you up, and bruised you in the process, should be a little more afraid of getting caught.

“Batman will find you,” you add. “He'll save me.” You've heard great tales of Gotham's hero. If anyone can help you, it's him.

That makes one of them pause. But the ringleader sneers at you. “If he finds us. He's got a lot on his plate every night, ya Majesty.”

“I am a priority guest in this city, of course he would—”

“Shut her up,” the leader snaps, and suddenly, you're being gagged. Disgusting. Completely unsanitary. You don’t want to imagine if the gag has ever been washed.

You keep screaming and fighting through the gag until a needle pricks your neck. Your terror spikes as you realize there's suddenly an ultimatum to the fear: either Batman finds you in time, or he doesn't.

That's your last thought as the drug renders you unconscious.

When you awaken, it's still nighttime. Nearly pitch black, except for a dim lightbulb in the center of the room. It looks like you're in some kind of warehouse. You can't see much of anything and it makes you claustrophobic. Your head aches and your vision is blurry, and your cheek is pressed against a grimy floor. You just want to go home.

You try to sit up first, but that nearly makes you throw up, and you do not want to throw up through this ratty gag. So you swallow the feeling and close your eyes, waiting until the nausea passes. You open your eyes and they begin to adjust to the darkness. You’re alone, which confuses you.

Then you spot the explosives hooked up at the bottom of your dress.

The good news is that your kidnappers aren’t here. The bad news is that the reason they aren’t here is because they can remotely explode this place and you inside of it. If they don’t get the ransom they’re no doubt demanding, tonight will be your first and last night in Gotham.

Another thought chills you to your bone: what if the explosives are set to go off whether they get the ransom or not?

You squeeze your eyes shut as the tears come. You’re going to die.

But wait. Maybe not. Surely, Batman is looking for you. And his young, brightly-colored companion. You never understood that color palette choice.

They’ll save you. Your father has no doubt alerted authorities. You’re the most important person in the city tonight! Of course people are looking for you.

Yes, you’ll be saved, the criminals will be punished to the highest extent of the law, and you’ll be escorted back to your hotel where you can take a long, luxurious bath. That’ll be very nice.

You’ll also never visit Gotham again, that is for sure.

The door to the warehouse rolls open with a boom. You flinch and squint, trying to make out the figure. If it’s your kidnapper, you want to act like you’re still asleep. You think you saw that trick in a film at the cinema you snuck out to watch when you were young. You didn’t catch the whole film, though—you were found out by your guards before you could. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you’d watched the whole film!

As the figure gets closer, you realize firstly that he’s a lot bigger than your kidnappers. You sigh in relief. Batman.

“‘Lo?” asks a gruff voice. “Anybody here?”

You shout through your gag. You can’t make out a face, but it’s alright. Relief floods you. You’re saved.

Your savior jogs to you. You tilt your head as you make out a… red helmet? With glowing eyes?

Wait a minute.

“Holy shit,” Not-Batman says. He pulls out your gag first. “Y’okay?”

Realization strikes you; you recall a story one of the party guests shared earlier in the night about a crime lord and his terror on Gotham.

"You're that terrible gangster that left a duffle bag of heads!" you blurt.

"In the flesh," he says, tapping the barrel of his gun to his helmet in a salute. Red Hood. “You don’t look very happy to see me, all things considered.”

“I don’t want your help!” you say, wriggling away from him. “I’m in an alliance with The Batman!”

He tilts his head. “‘S that so? What alliance would that be? Beauty Pageant Runaways For Bats?”

“I am not a beauty pageant contestant,” you say hotly. “I am a princess, and I have a small militia looking for me.”

He kneels in front of you, holstering his gun. His one of many, many guns. Your skin itches with sweat and adrenaline as he approaches. Those glowing eyes in his helmet flip your stomach. This is all wrong. You're supposed to be saved by a hero, not an outlaw. A criminal.

“Princess, huh?” Hood nods. “Ah, yeah. I heard somethin’ about that. They took you from the Plaza. Just my luck that I’d run into ya.”

“You mean, you weren’t actively looking for me?” you ask in a small voice.

“Nope. You’ve got every vigilante and cop in the city looking for you, Your Highness. I came in here ‘cause I smelled motor oil.”

Now that he’s found you, what does he plan to do?

“Are… are you going to release me?” you ask.

“Depends. Is this place rigged to blow?”

“My dress,” you say, unsure whether you should let him know about the explosives. A man who leaves severed heads in a duffel bag doesn’t seem wrapped up too tightly.

“Hm?” Hood lifts your skirt slightly. He whistles. “Damn. This is some excellent work. Whoever did this is a pro demolitions expert.”

His praise doesn’t comfort you, oddly enough.

“Is it live?” you ask.

“Doesn’t look like it. And I’ve got a lot of experience with explosives. Just stay still for now.”

Hood squats and pulls out a knife. You shift. He's bigger than you even like this, crouched at your level. His shoulders nearly block your entire view.

“Who were they?” he asks.

“Who was who?”

“The people that took you.”

“I don't know. They were wearing masks. Three men,” you say, frozen as he takes the knife to your feet.

“Mm.”

Hood begins to cut the ropes around your ankles. You delicately point your feet, unsure if he'll slip and get you.

Your lip curls. "Where's Batman? Or that boy who works with him? Aren't they in charge of this city? I want to speak to one of them."

“I don’t work for the Bats,” he says, an edge to his words.

“Well, I don’t feel comfortable with you rescuing me,” you say. “You’re a criminal.”

Hood stops cutting and looks at you. "Y'want Batman? Fine. I don't mind letting you wait around for the Bat.”

He pockets the knife and rises, walking out of the warehouse and disappearing. Just like that. Your heart jumps.

"Wait!" you shout, squirming in your binds. "Wait, come back!"

But it's silent. Panic digs its claws into your chest.

"Red Hood! Red Hood, come back! Please!"

You begin to cry out of desperation, tears dripping onto your already soiled dress. You try to pull your feet apart, but the rope isn't cut enough and all you do is worsen the burns around your ankles.

You bow your head and cry onto the floor. You just want to go home. You want your goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton ten-thousand thread count sheets. More than that, you never want to return to this stupid city.

"Are you cryin'?"

Your head shoots up. Hood stands over you, arms folded.

"You-you came back," you say, voice wobbly.

He shrugs. "I had an inkling that you had a change of heart, princess.”

You look away. "You left me.”

"I did,” he says. “But as much as you might deserve abandonment, I'm duty-bound to rescue everyone. No matter how obnoxious of a Batman fan they are."

"I'm not a fan. I just didn't want the morally corrupt, violent drug runner to save me."

He leans down and snaps away the ropes from your ankles—a feat of strength that doesn't go unnoticed. Then he saws the ones around your wrists. "Yeah, well, I don't do that anymore, and for such a pretty face, you suck at sweet talking."

He tosses the rope aside and pockets the knife. You rub your wrists and attempt to sit up. This time, you don’t want to throw up. Success!

“Anything hurt?” he asks.

“My legs,” you say miserably.

“Okay, let me rephrase: anything that'll make you bleed out in the next ten seconds?”

“Um… no.”

“Fantastic. I can probably getcha back to your hotel in an hour.”

You hold out your arms expectantly. He tuts.

“I don’t give hugs until the third kidnapping. Fourth one is free.”

You huff. “You expect me to walk like this? They took my shoes! Gotham is so uncouth.”

“And what am I s’posed to do about that?” Hood asks. “I look like a Payless to you?”

“I don’t know what that is,” you say. “Don’t you vigilantes have a protocol to follow? I cannot possibly walk through this filthy warehouse on my bare feet. I’ll catch a virus! You’ll have to carry me.”

Hood lets out a full-bellied laugh. It’s somewhat eerie through his modulator. You lift your chin, maintaining your composure.

“Oh my God! Highness, you’re a diamond-encrusted piece of work. I don’t carry anybody unless they’re unconscious and I like ‘em a lot. It’s a short list.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m a guest in your city, and I’ve been kidnapped! The least you can do—”

“The least I can do is leave you to rot here,” Hood says, tone cutting. “Or let your kidnappers come back and finish the job. You aren’t in whatever palace they carted you out of; you’re in fuckin’ Gotham, and if y’want my help, you’re gonna suck it up and walk.”

You look away, tears brimming once more. You sniffle.

“You don't have to be so mean,” you say, voice watery. “I’ve had a difficult night.”

It's quiet for a few moments. You've never cried as much as you have tonight, especially not in front of a stranger. A dangerous stranger.

“...Look, I think I got some spare boots,” Hood finally says. “Stay here.”

“Where would I go?” you mumble. Whether he hears you or not, he doesn’t reply, stalking out of the warehouse. He returns thirty seconds later with a pair of ugly, black, man boots.

“Used?!” you ask, voice high.

“Lightly, Your Majesty. They’re my spares. Here.”

Hood tosses the boots at you. You stare at them like he’s flung a pair of rats at you. He taps his wrist.

“Time’s a-ticking, princess. I’m on a schedule. I can always let you wait for Batman. He’ll find ya. Eventually.”

So you put on the boots.

You attempt to stand next, but the drugs and binds have made your limbs weak. You try and fail to get up twice before Hood hooks his arms under yours and hauls you up without a sweat. You squeal, fingers digging into his brown leather jacket.

He towers over you, doubly intimidating now that you're standing.

“Got it?” he asks, arms slipping away.

You definitely don’t have it, and you wobble backward. Hood grabs you again, hand on your back.

“Whoa. Easy.” Hood cups your face, a little rough. You squirm, mind flooded with all the germs that are probably on his gloves. “Look a'me. Look—stop fighting, Jesus Christ.”

“This is no way to treat a princess!”

“Yeah, I missed that day of training,” he says dryly. “Stay still, I'm tryna see if your pupils are dilated.”

“Your grip hurts!”

Hood loosens his grip and manages to keep you still long enough to examine your eyes. He hums and lets go.

“Seems like you’re still feeling the effects. Should wear off soon. Now…”

Hood steps back, but not so far that you can’t grab onto him should you fall again. He gives your dress a onceover.

“So that’s not gonna work.” He takes out his knife again. Your eyes widen.

“What on earth are you doing with that?” you ask, taking a small step backwards.

“Cutting your dress,” he says, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

You gasp, backing away. “No you will not!”

“Princess—”

“This dress is one-of-a-kind, handmade for tonight’s gala. You’re not going near it! It cost seventeen thousand euros!”

“Is it worth more than your life?” Hood snaps. “I don’t have any spare clothes and I’m not dragging a ballgown with three pounds of C-4 attached to it around. You have to be able to move and you have to get on my bike. Now quit whining.”

You sulk as he cuts and tears the bottom layer of your gown. He isn’t as savage about it as you expect: the cut is neat and could even be salvaged in the hands of a good seamstress. The night air makes your legs prickle with goosebumps. Then his words register.

“Bike?” you ask as Hood sets your dress remains aside. You’ll grieve for your dress privately.

“Mmhm.”

“I thought you had a Batmobile.”

“That’s Batman’s car. Hence the name. I have a bike ‘cause I’m a morally corrupt, violent, drug runner.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Can’t we take a taxi? Or call a car service?”

Hood snorts. “No one’s driving to this part of Gotham at this hour. It’s my bike or nothing. Or, of course, you can wait for Batsy.”

He starts walking and you hurry to follow. Hood’s strides are long and you’re unsteady in his too-big boots.

“Can you please slow down? These boots are enormous!”

He doesn’t say anything, but he does slow down, waiting until you catch up before leading you to his bike. It’s a nice motorcycle, you suppose, if you were into that thing. You’ve always thought motorcycles were a stupid risk to take. Being on the road is dangerous enough—why remove the comfort and protection of a car?

Hood’s bike is shiny and cherry red, just like his helmet. He produces a proper motorcycle helmet from nowhere and hands it to you.

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask, inspecting the helmet. It looks fairly clean and unused.

“Hasn’t killed me yet, and I’ve been dead once.”

Is that his idea of a joke?

“You’ll be fine,” Hood says at your silence. “I’ll go slow.”

“Alright,” you say, putting on the helmet. It smells oddly pleasant, like spicy cologne. “Very slow.”

“Yeah, yeah, very slow. C’mon.”

Hood kicks a leg over the bike and straddles it, all muscle memory. His muscles flex as he bends his legs. He pats the space behind him.

Cautiously, you attempt to do the same, but you soon realize that doing that exact move in a dress is probably not the smartest. You hold onto the seat with both hands instead and clumsily try to fold a leg over. It doesn’t work.

“Yo, Bambi. This century would be good.”

“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle!” you say, glaring at the back of his helmet. “You could help me.”

“For fuck's—”

Hood turns around, grabs the back of your calf, and pulls. Your legs part and you shriek, certain you’re about to flash him. He holds your waist as you flail so that you don’t bang into him as you sit.

“What is wrong with you?” you hiss, smoothing down your dress.

“Re-lax, I didn’t see anything.”

“This is highly undignified—”

“Yeah, we don't really do dignified in Gotham, princess. Comfy?”

“No.”

“Mm. Hold my waist.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all ya want.” Hood takes your arms and wraps them tightly around his waist. He’s warm and, oddly enough, soft despite his bulk. “You’re drugged and unsteady. If y’don’t hold on, you’re gonna fly off. Press up against me and hold tight.”

“Go slow,” you say again, obediently holding his waist.

“Yeah, I’ll go slow,” he says.

“Do you promise?”

“Promise.”

Hood turns the ignition. The bike roars to life, louder than you expected. You suck in a breath as he revs the engine and starts off.

True to his word (and what a flimsy word it is), Hood goes slow. He takes gentle, easy turns and breaks at all the stop signs, even though this part of the city is essentially abandoned at this hour. You’re able to study the streets, twinkling streetlights a little too bright to your recovering eyes. But you look anyway, shocked at the dilapidated buildings and uneven pavement. You’re definitely not in the Gotham you were earlier tonight. It hardly looks like the same city.

You turn your attention to your savior. It feels like an odd word to use for the Red Hood, whom you’ve heard enough about tonight. Your father had warned you excessively about what a dangerous area this was, and who exactly made it so dangerous.

But a savior is exactly what Hood has been to you. You decide that, despite his roughness, he still deserves a good reward. Perhaps a Hoodmobile. Or new boots.

Your rescue is going smoothly until you cross the bridge. That’s when another biker turns onto the road behind you.

“Shit,” Hood says, and you’re startled that you can hear him so clearly despite the noise. It’s like he’s in your head. “We’re being tailed.”

Well, that’s not good. You turn around briefly but you can’t make out your follower; you’re too scared to move on the bike.

But then you hear the bike behind you speed up.

“Motherfucker,” Hood says, and speeds up. Your arms tighten into a death grip.

“Hold on,” he says, like you'd do anything otherwise.

Hood speeds up and takes a sharp left turn. You tense and yelp, squeezing your eyes shut. He takes several winding turns and you keep your eyes shut through all of them. The nausea has returned and you’d prefer not to ruin the inside of his helmet with your stomach contents.

“We lose him?” he asks when the road levels off and it doesn’t feel so much like you’re on a rollercoaster.

“Um…” you begin, and chance turning around.

It’s clear for a few seconds until…

Well, to echo Hood’s sentiment: motherfucker.

“He’s there!” you yell, and Hood growls.

“The helmets are mic’d, you don’t have to shout,” he says, leaning into a left turn.

“I see him!” you say, and grab one of Hood’s holstered guns. He scrambles to grab it but misses, surprise slowing him down.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!”

You ignore him and take off the safety. Moving your free arm up to Hood’s neck, you fire. He curses up a storm, throwing in a few words you’ve never even heard.

The shots go wide; one dents a parked car, and one hits a stop sign.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts!” Hood yells and snatches the gun out of your hand.

But your tail falls back, evidently spooked enough by you and your poor aim. He turns on a side street and disappears.

“He’s gone! We’ve lost him!” you say happily.

“Are you insane?”

You wince at his volume. “The helmets are mic’d, you know.”

“You’re so—”

Hood cuts himself off and pulls sharply onto the sidewalk. He dismounts and pushes the kickstand down hard. Then he turns to you, chest heaving.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again. Are you crazy? You could’ve gotten us killed!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” you ask, putting out your arms. “We lost him!”

“No, we didn’t. All we did was throw him off our trail a little. We gotta walk the rest of the way now because he probably fell back to get more guys to follow us. But that’s not the point: what you did was insanely risky and stupid. You don’t know how to use a gun and you could’ve hurt yourself.”

You stay silent, chewing on his words. Hood isn’t wrong, he’s just… loud about it.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps.

You don't reply.

“I need a yes.”

“...I wanted to help.”

Hood sighs. “Yeah, well… just don’t. I’m good at what I do and I’ll get you back in one piece. But you gotta trust me.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. You feel small, but you don't want to cry in front of him again and confirm that you really are just a spoiled, whiny princess. “I'm sorry, Red Hood.”

You sit down on the curb, feeling exhausted. Tonight is awful.

It's quiet for a long moment. Then Hood says, “Don't cry.”

Your jaw works as you swallow hard. “I'm not.” You turn your head so he won't see.

“Christ on toast,” he mumbles above you. “This is exactly why I don't do rescue missions—”

You sniffle. “I'm not crying.”

“—’Cause I'm the world's biggest asshole,” he finishes, voice miles softer.

Hood sinks onto the curb next to you. He scoots in just enough so that your shoulders brush against each other.

“Look, ‘m a jerk. The Bats are better at handling civilians and being nice. You got the potty mouth with a bad attitude.”

You rub your eyes. “I don't like yelling.”

“Yeah,” Hood says quietly. “Okay. I'll try not to yell unless you're in immediate danger. But you can’t pull stunts like that. Deal?”

You nod. “I won't fire any more of your guns.”

He snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. Where’d you learn how to shoot, anyway? I mean, y’didn’t do it well, but you did it. Not half-bad for your first time in Gotham.”

“My father wanted me to learn gun sports,” you say. “I learned how to take the safety off and point and shoot, but I refused to do any more lessons after my instructor shot a duck for target practice. I think guns are uncivilized and destructive, and I don’t condone killing animals for sport.”

“Uncivilized unless you're getting tailed by kidnappers?” You think you detect a smile in his question.

“Everything has its exceptions,” you say primly.

“Ain't that the truth. C'mon, we should get moving. We're, ‘scuse the saying, sitting ducks out here.”

Hood stands first and offers you a hand. You take it, letting him pull you up. He does that so easily. It makes your spine tingle.

“How far are we from my hotel?” you ask.

“‘Bout two miles. If I had my gear I'd call for an assist,” he says apologetically. “Wasn’t planning to save lost princesses tonight.”

“I don't suppose there's any chance that you'll carry me, is there?”

“Pretty and funny,” Hood says. “You're the whole package, beauty queen.”

Your snarky reply is cut off by your stomach growling. Your eyes widen.

“Pardon me,” you say, mortified.

“What, ‘cause you're hungry?” Hood asks. “‘S a normal human condition.”

“You don't know anything about royal manners,” you say, but you're relieved. Your father would give you a tight, deadly look if you were hungry in public.

“No, I really don't. Born and bred Gotham, baby.”

“Showing any signs of hunger or thirst around company is highly undignified,” you say.

“Being a princess sounds exhausting.”

No arguments there.

Hood starts walking. You scramble to follow, and he seems to remember your shorter stride and slows down.

“There's a pretty decent 7-Eleven nearby,” he says. “I'd take ya to my favorite diner, but we're on a tight schedule. Those guys won’t be far behind.”

“A seven and eleven? Oh, I've heard of those!” you say.

“I’m… glad you're so excited about convenience stores?”

“I saw it in a film once. My father didn’t catch me watching this one. It looked so rugged, eating in a convenience store and fighting crime afterward. I've never been to one.”

“I know I shouldn't be surprised considering how much your dress cost but it does kinda blow my mind that you've never tasted anything but the finest cuisine,” Hood says. “Wait, did you say your dad didn’t catch you?”

You hum. “He doesn’t like me watching films that aren’t pre-approved.”

“Wow. Y’know, I could pirate you some movies if y’want. I know a great website for it.”

You laugh. “That’s alright. I manage to sneak out to the cinema more than I used to, now that he’s older.”

“Pretty sneaky, beauty queen.” He sounds impressed.

You shrug, trying to hide your pride. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

You turn on the corner and he leads you through a residential area. A few people outside of their apartments stare at you, but when they see Hood, they relax.

“Red!” a little boy shouts from a fire escape. He waves excitedly. Hood waves back.

“Hope you’re listening to your ma,” Hood calls to him, mock-stern. To anyone else—to you—it would be unnerving.

But the boy grins. “I am!”

“Then why aren't ya in bed, huh?”

The boy shrugs. “Not tired. Who's the lady?”

“The lady is a princess, so be nice,” Hood says.

“Whoa!” The boy gapes at you. You wave at him and he jumps up from the window.

“Mom!” he yells. “Red Hood found a princess!”

You giggle as Hood leads you away.

He shakes his head. “Kids.” He sounds terribly fond.

You stare at his back for a moment.

“They like you,” you say. “You keep them safe. But you're also a friend.”

“Helps to earn their trust,” he says gruffly.

You walk a little more in silence.

“I was wrong about you, Hood,” you say. He doesn't look at you.

“Lotta people are. Nothin’ new.”

No, it probably isn't.

“‘Kay, here we are. C’mon. We gotta be fast, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, following him into the 7-Eleven.

“Hey, Benny,” Hood says to the tired cashier behind the counter.

Benny nods. “Long night?”

“You got no idea.” He gestures to you. “She’s a princess.”

“Sweet,” Benny says. “What’s up?”

“How do you do?” you say politely.

Hood leads you to the rolling hot dogs and other cylindrical foods under the heat lamps. You frown.

“I have had a hot dog before,” you say. “I’m not that sheltered.”

“Yeah, but have ya had a buffalo ranch roller? My brother and I used to get these after patrol. That with a blue raspberry slushie? Heavenly after getting thrown into a dumpster.”

“Well, you’ve gotten me this far, so I suppose I’ll trust you,” you say.

“I’m flattered. Benny, my usual.”

Benny gives a thumbs-up and puts the ‘roller’ in a paper bag. Meanwhile, Hood takes you to the back where the slushie machine is. You watch as he fills a plastic cup with electric blue sludge. Your brows raise.

“Why is it that color?” you ask.

“Tasty chemicals,” Hood says cheerily. “It won’t kill ya, I promise.”

“That would be counterintuitive at this point,” you say.

“I appreciate your faith in me, princess.”

You return to Benny, who rings up the food. “Five twenty-seven.”

Hood looks at you expectantly. You look at him.

“What?” you ask.

“This is the part where you pay,” he says.

“A princess never carries money on her person,” you say, like it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“You–” Hood looks at Benny and sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”

He pays and you take your treats, trotting out the door.

“Thank you, kind sir!” you say as Hood waves.

“See ya, Ben.”

You hold out your slushie for Hood to take while you work on your fried goodie.

“I’m not a cupholder,” he says, but he takes the cup anyway.

“It’s warm!” you say, delighted. “Let me take a bite.”

Hood patiently waits as you bite and chew. You hum.

“Good?” he asks.

“I like it,” you say. “It’s unusual. Is this chicken?”

“So they say,” Hood says. “Try the slushie.”

You take the cup and first take a small sip. It’s cold and sweet and slightly sour and probably full of enough sugar to rot your teeth out of your head. You love it.

“This is wonderful,” you say.

He laughs. “Yup. Told ya, nothin’ like this combo. It’s a classic. C’mon, let’s get moving.”

You walk and eat, and it definitely improves your night, having something in your belly.

“This is just like Roman Holiday,” you say.

Hood snorts. “I don’t think we watched the same movie.”

“It has a likeness. You’re Gregory Peck.”

“Yeah, sure. If Gregory Peck was a street fighter, then yeah. I’m Greg fuckin’ Peck.”

“No, you’re right. You’re much younger than he was in that movie. How old are you?” you ask.

“Twenty-four.”

“Really? Why are you doing this?”

“Took a career test.”

You bump his shoulder. “Seriously, Hood. You’re young. You’ve so much potential. I can tell that you’re smart.”

“Hence why I do this,” he says.

You tut, shaking your head. “That’s ridiculous. You could do more. Be more.”

“You’re just fulla charm, aren’t ya?” Hood says.

Your next step is hesitant. Hood keeps walking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” you say. “I guess I assumed…”

“Yeah, I know. You assume a lot, princess. And you’re wrong.”

“You made assumptions about me! You thought that I was stupid and naive and I’m not.”

Hood stops, turns. “Maybe I like doing what I do, huh? Ever think of that? I meant it when I said I’m not a criminal anymore. I help people.”

“I know that,” you say quietly. “I see how the citizens treat you. They like you. You care for them greatly. I just… I just meant that you could try new things too. If you wanted to.”

He’s quiet for a bit. You keep walking.

“I didn’t think you were stupid,” he eventually says.

You scoff. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Yeah, I thought you were a little… sheltered. But you’re smart. You’re certainly tougher than your dad gives you credit for.”

You roll your eyes. “He still thinks I’m six years old. It takes me getting kidnapped to see a city.”

“Pretty shitty tour.”

You smile behind his back. “Oh, I don’t know. The tour guide is alright.”

Hood stops. When he doesn’t speak, you approach.

“Hood?”

He suddenly puts a hand over your mouth and drags you backwards into an alleyway. Your yelp is muffled. Hood puts a finger to where his mouth would be under his helmet.

That’s when you hear voices.

“—single fuckin’ clue. She could be in the fuckin’ Atlantic by now. Halfway to China!”

“China’s on the other side, dumbass.”

You look up at Hood, eyes wide.

Those are your kidnappers' voices.

He seems to understand and nods. He squeezes your arm and removes his hand from your mouth. He points to himself and points outside, then points to you and points down.

You assume that means stay put and don’t try to shoot anyone with his gun. You can take a hint.

Hood slinks out of the alley. You peek your head out to look, curiosity overtaking fear. Besides, you trust Hood. You figure with a reputation like his, he can more than handle his own.

“Nice night, ain’t it?” he says.

The two men turn, looking close to pissing themselves. Good.

“Hood, we weren’t doing nothin’!” one says.

“Yeah, Ricky and I are clean!”

“Oh, really? So you had nothing to do with the kidnapping of a certain visiting princess.”

“We was nowhere near the Plaza!” Ricky cries.

The other elbows his friend. Before you can blink, Hood has them both down on the ground, pistols pointed at their necks.

“You were gonna hurt her,” Hood says, and now there’s no trace of humor in his voice. “That poor, sweet princess. Strapping C-4 to her like a fuckin’ bank vault. Drugging her, tying her up. You fuckin’ animals.”

“It wasn’t our idea, it was Bobby’s!” Ricky cries.

“Shut up, Ricky!”

A shot rings out and you flinch. Ricky starts sobbing. Red seeps from his leg.

“The only reason I’m not killing you two right now is because I want a word with your boss. But make no mistake.” Hood leans in. “You’ll pay for hurting the princess. I’ll make sure of it.”

With two final hits, Hood knocks them out cold. The sudden silence is loud.

He looks at you then, those eerie eyes glowing. He beckons you out. You go.

You look down at the unconscious bodies. “You don’t have to kill them.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’d rather you didn’t. You shouldn’t have that on your conscience.”

“They kidnapped you. They would’ve hurt you had their boss ordered it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I don’t want you to bear that burden, Hood.”

“‘S not a burden,” he says, gently taking your wrist. Your eyes fly open. “If it’ll make you feel better, safer, anything. It’s no burden.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, frightened at how pleased a part of you is at his words.

“I’ll tie ‘em up and send for ‘em when we get back. One second.”

You watch as Hood drags their bodies into the alley like they’re sacks of feathers. He handcuffs them to a drainpipe and ties their feet and gags them.

“So they can see what it feels like,” Hood says, dusting his hands. You can’t help your small smile.

“Ready?” he asks.

You look up at the starless sky, suddenly exhausted. Your limbs feel like lead. “I guess so.”

Hood looks into the distance, then back at you. He sighs.

“Climb on my back.”

You blink. “Pardon me?”

“You’re pardoned.” Hood shrugs. “I can tell you’re tired. We don’t have far to go.”

“Won’t I be too heavy?” you ask. “All that way…”

“Princess, I’m honestly offended. I once carried Batman and my brother to Bludhaven. I’m more than capable.”

“But what about your rule?” you ask. “About carrying people.”

“Turns out you’re not so bad,” he says. “Get on ‘fore I change my mind.”

So you climb onto Hood’s back. He secures you easily, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Don’t choke me out,” he says. “Otherwise we’re both goin’ down.”

You smile and relax on his back. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

At first, it feels like an eternity, waiting for the familiar Plaza sign. You can’t complain, though: Hood is warm and being carried by him is even better than riding on his bike.

You blink, startled at the thought. What are you even talking about? This is the Red Hood. You were terrified of him a few hours ago.

And yet, the rhythmic bumping and Hood’s solid figure lulls you to sleep. You don’t even realize until you’re being nudged and a voice pulls you back to consciousness.

“Hey.”

You’re gently jostled awake. You blink blearily, yawning into Hood’s shoulder.

Oh. Right. You’re on his back.

“Hm?”

“Ride ends here,” he says. “We’re at the Plaza.”

“Oh.” Sleepily, you try to climb off. Hood sets you on your feet. Embarrassment fills you as you become more awake.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. You could’ve woken me! I—”

Hood holds up a hand. “Hey, chill out. ‘S fine. You had a long night, I get it.”

“Right. I, um…” You look up at the hotel. The top floor windows disappear in the layer of fog that’s settled over the city. You wonder what Hood’s windows look like.

“I’m gonna track down your main kidnapper and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else. I’ll kick his ass, at the very least.”

You look at Hood, blinking. “Oh. That’s very nice of you, thank you.”

He shrugs. “‘S my job.”

You nod clumsily. “Right, of course. I could give you something in return, though. Money or, um, firearms. A car, perhaps?”

He snorts. You smile shyly.

“Cute,” he says, but he’s not being mean. “No, that’s okay. I’m pretty set, actually. Doing what I do is surprisingly lucrative.”

“Surely there’s something—”

“Seriously, princess, no charge.”

You bite your lip. Is this too bold? Yes, definitely.

“What about a kiss?”

At first, you think Hood hasn’t heard you. Then he turns to face you in a way that tells you no, he definitely heard you.

“Ex-cuse me?”

“Um.” You scratch your neck. “Well, princesses kiss their knights goodbye, don’t they?” you ask, but it’s weak. It’s stupid. You’re so young.

You think he’s going to just walk away. That would be the kindest thing to do in response to your blunder.

“I’m sorry, forgive me. That was a terrible joke,” you blurt.

“No, it wasn’t.”

He steps forward, close enough to kiss you if he didn’t have the helmet. You look up at him, heart pounding.

“Wasn’t terrible or wasn’t a joke?” you ask, blood roaring in your ears.

Hood’s quiet.

“Haven’t done much kissing, to be honest with ya,” he finally says, not answering your question.

You shake your head. “Nor I.”

“Mm. And y’wanna kiss me? Don’t offer ‘cause you think you owe me.”

“I want to kiss you, Hood.”

He tilts his head. “Y’wouldn’t be kissing a knight. More like kissing a toad.”

You frown. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m no Greg Peck. And I’m no hero either.”

“Do you give this speech to everyone who wants to kiss you?”

“You’re the first one who’s wanted to,” he says.

You inhale sharply. “Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

You wait. He waits. You both wait for the other to back out. You don’t. Neither does he.

“Can’t believe a princess wants to kiss me,” he mumbles.

And then he covers your eyes with his hand.

You blink, lashes sweeping over his glove. You hear a click, then a hiss of air. His helmet hits the ground with a dull thud.

Hood gingerly holds your chin with his free hand. You keep your eyes closed even though he’s covering them, out of respect.

His mouth is warm and so, so gentle. You barely feel his lips at first, so you press a little harder. Hood doesn’t know what to do with his mouth, resting it on yours, so you take the lead, following what you’ve seen others do and what you’ve watched on television.

You reach up and hold his face. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You stroke his stubbled jaw, feel strong cheekbones and the ends of curls above his ears.

“Your Highness? Your Highness!”

The hand leaves your face so quickly, your eyes stay closed for a second longer, slow to react. Then you open your eyes and see the empty street.

Your lips tingle with heat. It’s all noise around you, policemen and your guards flitting around you, asking questions, alarmed by your torn dress.

You exhale, disappointment overtaking you.

Your father is in front of you, taking your wrists. “Can you hear me? Doctor, I need a—”

“I’m fine,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. “I’m alright, Father.”

He exhales and pulls you into a hug. It startles you. He pulls away before you can hug him back.

“I am so glad you’re alright,” he says. “The police say they saw a figure with you. Who was that? Was he your kidnapper?”

“No, not at all,” you say, staring out into the street beyond. Your lips are buzzing. “He was my hero.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #princess reader

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danveration · 3 months ago

Text

Questionable Interests

Parings: Art x Reader

Summary: You fall asleep next to Art while riding the subway, and then he walks you home

Warnings: Mention of blood/killings/serial killers, talk of drunk men, talk of drugs, a mean male subway driver

Word count: 1203

A/N: tehehehehfkbdfk i hope u like ittt🙈🙈 it’s not the besssttt. i did this in one sitting within like 10 minutes HAHHA. i will do better stuff in the near future but Yes!woooo

Art was the talk of the town. “The killer clown is back again!” “Art the serial killer clown was spotted?” “5 killings that all lead to a killer clown. People have seen a black and white clown with blood all over him. They thought it was fake blood but they’re having second thoughts.” Art the clown.

You obviously heard of him. You’ve always had an odd obsession with serial killers and true crime documentaries. It’s a.. passion, some would say. You wondered if Art had any motive, or if he just killed whoever he thought of killing. Did he kill people because they were mean to him? Judging? Or did he just kill anyone, even if they didn’t pay him any mind at all. Did he feel anything when he killed? Did he feel anything at all?

You wished you could see him in real life. What can you say? Your have questionable interests.

You’re currently on the subway, sitting down with your headphones in. You’ve had a long day today. It’s about 8pm and all you want to do is get home and sleep.

The subway isn’t very busy. There’s only about 5 or 6 people on it at the moment. Your mind begins to wonder about random things as your eyes threaten to close. The subway makes a stop, you pay no mind. You’re too out of it to notice who gets on and who sits where. Little did you know, Art stumbles into the subway, bloody and carrying a black bag. Everyone looks scared and soft murmurs begin to start as people look him up and down. He sees you and doesn’t think anything. He see's that you're the only one who doesn't really acknowledges him and so he sits next to you and tosses his black garbage bag on the other seat beside him. You don't hear nor see the worried whispers and worried eyes of the others on the subway.

Your eyes begin to close and your head slowly drops onto Art’s shoulder. Art is taken aback, his eyes go wide for a moment before looking down at you slowly. He stiffens and then goes back to staring in front of him at the empty seat. He doesn’t particularly think anything of it. He just stays still and let’s you rest on him.

10 minutes later, he notices the subway is about to stop at the stop that he plans to get off. Though he doesn’t get off. He just sits there.

After a while, it’s time for subway to “close” aka just stop until the morning. Everyone is off except for you and Art. The driver gets up, and yells, “Hey! It’s time to go, come on. Get up!”

Art stars daggers at the man and just stays sitting down.

The subway driver rolls his eyes and hits the metal pole close to you. “Come on!”

With that, you suddenly wake up and whimper. Looking up to where the sound was made, you come to realization and your eyes go wide. “O-oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. Where are-“

He cuts you off, “You’re at the subway center on Marshall Street.”

Luckily that was not far from where you lived. You could walk, though you’re a bit scared to considering your watch says 2:50am. There are so many weirdos out there at this time. Drunk men stumbling out of bars, drug users, and even murderers! Like Art the clown. But honestly, you’d feel more safe with him than any other man. Which sounds horrible but at least you know he could protect you and he isn’t afraid of killing someone if it came to that. But why on earth would he protect you? He would probably just kill you. You don’t know what morals he has, if any.

You’re about to get up but you realize that you were actually laying your head on something when you were sleeping. There was not a wall next you so..

You turn to where you were sleeping and you notice something black and white out of the corner of your eyes. Looking up, you see..

What? You have to be dreaming.

Art or someone who is dressed as Art is sitting there staring at you with a neutral expression. You just stare with wide eyes as he stares back without blinking. Looking straight at him, you can definitely confirm it's the Art. Blood & all.

“Hey!! I said scram. Both of you!” The subway driver yells and motions for you both to leave.

You go to walk off the subway as Art reaches for his black bag and gets up to following you off, giving the subway driver a nasty look as he walks off.

Once you are off the subway, you look over to Art as he stares down at you. You don’t feel scared, necessarily. He doesn’t look mad or anything. But still, you feel the need to apologize for sleeping on his shoulder.

“H-hey. I’m real sorry about falling asleep on you. It-it’s just been a long day.” You stutter out.

He looks at you and motions for you to walk.

“W-what?” You ask in confusion.

He makes a finger person with his hands and motions them walking.

“Walk? Walk where?”

He attempts to draw a house with his finger and points at you and back at the house.

You take it that he wants you to walk to your house. Does he want to follow you there? You really are starting to feel intuitive with the way you just thought of this not even a little while ago.

“Walk to my house?” You ask him.

He eagerly nods and gives you a thumbs up as he smiles.

Art the killer clown wants to walk you home? You smile to yourself at the situation you’re in right now. Most people would be running away but you’re literally happy right now. You are kind of a fan girl of Art, so it’s crazy that he’s actually here and not.. Killing you. He actually seems sweet. Maybe he does have morals left.

“O-okay.” You say.

You start to walk and he walks beside you, slugging along his black garbage bag. You two walk in silence. You want to ask him questions but you’re not sure if too much at once is a good idea. Maybe asking him questions will set him off in a way, you’re not sure. So you decide to just stay quiet and soak in the moment.

You’re walking on the side of the sidewalk, until you hit a street. Your street. You take a turn and he follows, smiling to himself and looking around to take in the neighbourhood (Totally not to memorize where you live). You walk for a few minutes until you get to your house.

“This is me” You say as you awkwardly chuckle and motion towards your house.

He motions for you to walk up all the way to your door, at which you do. He follows you all the way until you open your door. Then, he waves goodbye with a smile and closes the door for you.

You stand on the other end, in disbelief of what just happened.

#terrifier #art #art the clown #art the killer clown #art terrifier #art x reader #art x y/n #art x you #art terrifier x reader #art terrifier x y/n #art terrifier x you #terrifier x reader #terrifier fanfic #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art the clown x y/n #terrifier art x reader #my works

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ahundredtimesover · 9 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (13) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of injury, trauma; family drama; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; they're still idiots; explicit sexual content (making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, mutual masturbation, protected sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 29k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: It's here! This is a long one so I hope you enjoy and savour it all. We're close to the end! So thank you so much for all the support and love for this story 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

You take up Yoongi’s offer of a listening ear on Saturday, the day after your last day at the company. You spent last night wallowing in sadness over not being able to see Jungkook during your farewell dinner and in regret for not telling him what you wanted to say - that you were thankful, that you wished the Arts Center would be everything he imagined it would be, and that hopefully, you’ll see him again.

Maybe if he showed up, you would’ve said more - that you’re terrified of everything he makes you feel, that you’re too burdened by your past, and that you want him even if you don’t know if you’re ready to be with him.

You spent much of today convincing yourself that it was better that you didn’t see him, even if you kept imagining his shy smile and the feel of his lips against yours, and then you got frustrated all over again.

With all that’s going on in your head, you figured that spending dinner on your own today would make you feel more sorry for yourself, so you’re currently seated in front of Yoongi with your wonton soup barely touched while he’s just slurped the remaining noodles of his.

“Your soup’s getting cold,” he nudges your foot as you mindlessly gaze at your bowl. “It’s not gonna eat itself.”

“Apparently, I don’t eat much when I’m sad,” you sigh, turning to him.

“Well, that sucks. It’s really good soup,” he hums.

Yoongi looks at you patiently just as he has for the past half hour. You told him you wanted to eat out, and he agreed immediately, even offering to drive you home after. But you haven’t said much since you arrived at the restaurant and he hasn’t forced you to say anything either.

“I’m sorry for not being a fun dinner partner tonight,” you say.

“It’s okay. When I told you the other week to call me if you wanted to talk, I didn’t expect you to actually talk,” he chuckles. “I know sometimes you just need someone to be with. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you reply. “I can't even figure myself out.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it,” he counters. “Human beings are complex, yes. But feelings of desire aren’t. They’re quite straightforward. You want something and that should tell you everything. It’s pride and fear that complicate things. If you set those aside, then you’ll be able to figure out what you really feel.”

“What if they contradict each other?”

“The push and pull isn’t always equal though. One overpowers the other in some way. So you’re either more happy about leaving or more sad about it. And then ask yourself why.”

“I’m sad about leaving Jungkook,” you admit. “I don’t regret my decision but it doesn’t make me happy right now.”

“And why doesn’t it make you happy?”

“Because it hurt him. And then it hurt me.”

“Why did it hurt the both of you?”

“I don’t know about him,” you pout.

“Then what about you? Why did it hurt you?”

“Because he kept his distance - he replaced me, shut me out. And then he didn’t show up to my farewell dinner.”

“So what’s painful about that?” Yoongi pushes, wanting to help you make sense of things.

“Because I want him close to me,” you say quietly, letting the words sink in. You’ve always known this, but saying it to someone else somehow makes it feel more real this time. “I want him… with me.”

“Told you it was simple,” Yoongi shrugs.

“But it isn’t,” you argue.

Yoongi is a straightforward man, and you suppose the only way for him to understand is for you to tell him the truth, so that’s what you do.

You tell him about your ties to the Jeon family, why you stayed in the company for as long as you did, all the attempts at leaving, and the plan of doing so after the Arts Center opening. You share about your life in the process - your childhood of staying at the library and your coping mechanisms, your life in Busan, going back to Daegu then leaving for Seoul, working to repay a debt, and then losing yourself because of it. You talk about the closeness you developed with Jungkook, all the times that he was there for you, the kiss and the aftermath, why you pushed him away and why you also feel bad about how he reacted. You say a bit about the things that scare you - getting hurt being one of them - and why staying for Jungkook would be difficult, and why leaving him would be the same.

Yoongi looks at you earnestly. He’s always known about you being guarded, keeping parts of yourself that you don’t really share with others. This is the farthest you’ve let him into your world, and he sees so much of Jungkook in you. There’s that fear of not being wanted but also of being wanted; you’re scared of not being enough to be loved but also of not loving the other person enough. You’re unable to express how you feel because you don’t know if the person will respond with the same vulnerability and honesty, and you don’t like baring yourself with no one there to tell you it’s alright.

All of it feels like how his friend is. He’s seen it since the moment Jungkook stepped foot into the office a year ago; he’s seen it everytime Jungkook disengages from you or gets mad at you; he’s seen it even when you’ve started to become comfortable with each other, and Yoongi has seen it these past weeks of Jungkook dealing with your departure, especially recently.

“So after all that, you mean to tell me that you didn’t actually tell him how you feel?” Yoongi points out. “That he just overheard you say that you like him but you didn’t actually tell him? Not your feelings nor your fears, not your contradicting emotions, nor the fact that you want to be with him? Because I’m hearing you, ___. And all I hear is that you’ve found someone you’re willing to give your heart to but you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Even after he’s told you how he feels, because you don’t think that he would be open and honest enough to you to mean them.”

You let out a breath and pout, Yoongi’s words making it seem simpler than it actually is. In hindsight, maybe it is, because after everything that you shared, the first thing he points out is how, despite the obvious reciprocated feelings, you’re the one who’s afraid to give in.

“You talked about how Jungkook made you feel braver during the times you were scared and alone and hurt,” Yoongi says, seething at your experiences that made you look towards Jungkook for strength. “Why can’t you be brave enough for him? I mean, I get it that you want to leave the company, no one questions why you would. He did but he’s accepted it because he understands, but why do you have to let him go? Is it just because of the ties to his family? Or is it because you’re afraid of what he feels for you that isn’t tied to you being his assistant?”

His last question causes your face to fall, and Yoongi knows he’s hit a nerve.

“You’ve been living your life trying to prove that you’re more than your past, that you’re capable and that you deserve all that you have now,” he adds. “This job was your life. You told me before that you don’t know if you’d like yourself outside of it, and maybe you’re thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t, either.”

“I… don’t think I’m that great, Yoongi,” you confess. “I mean, just think about what the guys I dated said about me.”

“Those don’t count because they’re absolute jerks.”

“Even then, I… I’m terrible at a lot of things. I pull away, I get scared, I… I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. I don’t know if I want to be. I don’t know if I can, or what that even means,” you stammer. “For a second there, I let my guard down for Jungkook and—”

“He did the same and that terrifies you,” Yoongi finishes. “Being wanted back terrifies you. It’s why you feel confused and conflicted, ___. You have the chance to have something you’ve been yearning for and—”

“I’m scared I’d lose it,” you interject. “And I won’t if I don’t have it. I’m scared of heartbreak, Yoongi. I gave in when it came to Jungkook but I saw the possibilities with him and heartbreak was one of them. This is why I don’t give in to anything. I mean, it’s why I didn’t give in to you. I… I was scared we’d hurt each other and that I’d lose you and… I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now.”

“It’s good that you are,” he assures you. “Because do you see the difference? You didn’t give in to me but you did to him. You never know if the person is worth the pain until it’s there but you at least know that he’s worth a try. I wasn’t, and I don’t take offense, but that’s the point. He’s the guy you try for, ___. He’s the one you climb out your walls for. So don’t cower inside. Be brave for him this time.”

It’s a while before you’re able to say anything. The background chatter in the noodle house fades away in your mind as you take in Yoongi’s words. And he’s not wrong.

You never told Jungkook what you felt; you didn’t know how to. You kissed him to express that, but you pushed him away just as quickly, but you never got to say anything else, especially after. And now you’re left to wonder - what was the fear really about? And what was the need to let go of him because of it?

You’re scared of a lot of things; you’re scared of every single thing you want to have. You learned some time ago that Jungkook was the same, but you think that you’re probably more terrified than he is.

You’re a walking contradiction, too - you want to cut ties with him because it reminds you of a past you don’t want to be defined by, but in doing so, you’re cutting yourself off as what you started as - his assistant, and you’re scared to be anything else but that. You were good at it - you were competent, capable; you managed his life and the team well. But being with him means you have to be someone else for him - his partner, his companion, his lover, and you don’t know how to be those things for him. You don’t know if you’d like yourself, and so you don’t know if he’d like you if you tried. And that scares you.

But like Yoongi said, you thought Jungkook was at least worth it; you wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t, even if you thought it was a moment of weakness. You just have to follow through with that belief this time, and be brave enough to not just want him because you do; you have to be brave enough to let him want you back. You have to be brave enough to believe that he’ll stay.

“How… how do I do that? How do you become brave for someone?” You finally ask.

Yoongi relaxes in his seat, his eyes the most comforting they’ve ever been.

“You just tell them how you feel,” he says. “You face it head on because you know that there’s something more important than a possible heartbreak, and that’s losing on the possibility of happiness with them.”

You let out a breath. You know Yoongi’s right. You’d said that you want to know how it’s like to be truly happy with Jungkook, and it’s this paralyzing fear and stubbornness that’s keeping you from finding out. But you suppose that when you’ve gotten used to keeping a lot of things in, just telling someone how you feel isn’t that easy.

“It’s hard for you, I know,” he continues, reading your mind. “But how would you learn what your heart is capable of if you don’t follow it?”

“Then you’ll just risk it getting broken,” you argue.

“You do,” he hums. “Hearts break. But it’s not the only thing they do.”

The words are simple, just as the thought is. You almost feel embarrassed that Yoongi has to remind you of these things, about the inevitability of pain and loss and how it should be worth it in the end. But the fear comes from somewhere, from a heart that’s close to your own that shattered so many times, you wondered at one point if it was still capable of loving.

“I told you that I never met my dad, right?” You share, willing to bare a bit more of yourself to him. “He left before I was born because he wasn’t ready. But mom… Mom loved him deeply. I found a photo of them under her pillow one time and I asked her about it, and she had me lay my head on her lap while she told me about him. I was around 6 years old and probably didn’t understand much but I felt her tears drop on my cheek, and then everyday for weeks, I’d hear her cry, all alone in her room. And somehow, she just cried harder every time I hugged her.”

You remember those days. You learned what it felt like to have your heart broken at that age, and it was because of seeing your mom try to smile through glassy eyes; it was hearing her tell you that she loved you, even if the other half of you was the reason why she was hurting in the first place.

“Eventually a man came along and he made her laugh until he stopped,” you continue. “Until all he could do was hurt her. And that… that felt worse. She’d just learned to share herself again but then he just broke her. And I… I felt that, too. I felt it every time she hugged me, kissed me, covered my ears to drown out his yelling… I felt it every time I had my head on her lap so I wouldn’t see her break down.”

Your eyes wander into the streets outside, recalling those difficult years when your mother protected you, even as she was in pain herself.

“They say that a parent feels the pain their child is feeling,” you say. “I guess it’s true for children, too. I felt her pain, I felt her heart break. Her heart was my heart. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been scared for it to happen to me, knowing how much it hurts. It took years before she could recover. That was hard, too.”

“How long did it take her to give Min-woo a chance?”

“Years,” you shake your head. “She was so cautious. But he stuck around, and she realized he was worth it all. And she gained two other daughters who adore her in the process.”

“Her heart was your heart,” Yoongi repeats your words. “And all she did was love. That means your heart is capable of just as much. It’s just as strong, too.”

You’ve never thought about it that way. You've always believed that the one thing you took from your mother was her grace. Perhaps if you tried, you’d learn that you took her strength, too. Maybe her unyielding ability to care. Perhaps it’s her faith in what she was capable of no matter how broken she may be.

“I… I needed this,” you tell Yoongi, your eyes misty at his words. “It’s been hard understanding myself lately. And you, you just know me. You know what to say all the time.”

“It’s because I risked something, too, when I told you how I felt about you all those years ago,” he replies, the reminder of his unrequited feelings no longer awkward for either of you. “And at the end of it, I learned how I could care for you, and that I could care for you much better as a friend.”

“And well, you’ve been an amazing one to me, especially this past year.”

“Good, so for my sake, especially since you and Jungkook give me so much headache,” Yoongi laughs, “remember everything I said, okay? Your heart is capable of so much. So please give it a try and follow it. I doubt it will be broken this time around.”

You spend the entirety of Sunday at home, cleaning up the place and tending to your growing collection of plants. It was a cool enough day for you to walk up the neighborhood to buy some things from the store, and as Yoongi’s words from the night before ring in your head, you find yourself hurting more at the absence of Jungkook in your life.

There’s a new recipe for fried rice that you saw online, and he was your first thought because you think he’d like it. You read an article about Lee Jaemin in the morning where she mentioned the Arts Center, and you wanted to share it with him and gush over her words. His favorite Japanese chef has opened a new restaurant in Insadong and you wonder if he’s already tried it. The playground at the park is closed because they’re doing repairs after you told the council about how rusted the swings have become at Jungkook’s suggestion.

They’re little things, really, and you realize even more just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him, and how much of himself he’s shared as well. Whatever lines that were drawn up due to your respective positions were crossed long ago, even before that kiss. It started when you both started to care for each other, and when you both started to wish for the other’s happiness and healing. On your end, you’d hoped you’d be a part of that and that he’d be a part of yours. You don’t think that has changed though.

There are still many things you want to share with him, you realize again, especially on that Monday afternoon when you find yourself at Rkive Publishing for your contract signing that has you looking at Namjoon in question.

“Are… are you sure?“ you ask him, as you read through the document.

He’d sent a version of this for your review a few days ago and you’d given your verbal confirmation. You expected to come today to just sign the contract, but he asked you to review it again since he made a few changes. The salary is one of them.

“Are you asking me if I’m sure of offering you a higher compensation package?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Y-yes?” You say. “I mean, not that I don’t prefer it but… why?”

You knew that working for a smaller organization, and for a publishing company at that, despite having a higher position and more responsibilities meant that your pay wouldn’t be significantly different from what you were getting at the Jeon Corporation. You’d accepted that, and it was something you’d talked about with Namjoon. But still, this little bit of increase is something you hadn’t expected.

“We’ll, let’s just say that we’ve had many applicants in the past who oversold themselves. You did the opposite,” he responds. “You impressed me and the panel enough with your resume and interview and we thought you were a good fit but that recommendation letter from your company’s President showed us just how qualified you were, and that there’s so much potential there. I was also able to speak with your most recent boss.”

“VP Jeon?”

“Yes, I was on a call with him last Friday. He elaborated on the strengths you’d mentioned and that Mr. Jung had noted,” Namjoon responds. “They’re top executives of a well-known company who have worked closely with you, who saw your growth, and can attest to your potential. Given all those qualities, we thought it was just fair that we increase your compensation. We’ve learned it’s important to trust and be committed to our staff, and this is how we show that.”

“This… this is deeply appreciated,” you manage to say, not realizing just how valuable the references were. You check to see that your responsibilities didn’t change much, so you know that this is really them, believing in your worth.

“We’re looking to expand in the next few years and are working towards establishing our position in the industry,” he adds. “We don’t just need competent individuals - we need leaders, we need people of good character who can embody all the things that we stand for. We’re trying to build something here and someone like you would be a wonderful asset. You can help us grow, ___. And I, well,” he continues, shyly smiling. “I just really wanted to make sure that we got a good start. Your role is critical. It’s also one of the toughest ones out there and I wanna show you that we want you here. I mean, I was sure a lot of companies were trying to get you and we’d have to compete for you.”

“I was already convinced early on, Namjoon,” you assure him. “To be honest, meeting you at the bookstore that day felt like some sign from the universe that it was time for me to carve my own path. I guess I didn’t just need a new environment, I needed a blank slate, too, where I could start over and feel like I was really doing this for myself, that I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else, not even to me.”

“Glad I took a chance on talking to you, then, even if I sort of freaked you out,” he chuckles. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It was fine,” you laugh. “In hindsight, I’m also glad you did. I told you, it was a moment that stuck with me. It’s what pushed me to learn about what you’re all doing here, to learn about you. I… I do well when I’m surrounded by good people, by those who believe in their work, and those who believe in others. I know it won’t be easy but I already know I’ll thrive here. So thank you for giving me this chance, too.”

You and Namjoon talk some more and then lock in a date for your first day. You agree to start in three weeks - that gives you enough time to properly rest and mentally prepare yourself for this new phase. You’ll still be in a fast-paced and high-stress environment, but you’ll control your time and directly manage a team. Everything’s going to be new, and you want to be ready when it all happens, which is also why you’ll be doing your onboarding a few days before.

“I wanted to give this to you,” he says, handing you a book as he walks you out the door. “I always give one to new staff as a form of welcome because books are our heart and soul, you know?”

“This is lovely, Namjoon,” you smile at him. “This will definitely be my companion for the next few weeks.”

“Good. It’s always meaningful to have something tangible like this,” he smiles back.

There’s warmth in the way he does it, as if every time he talks about books, it elicits special memories. You think being around someone like that will be good for you, as you try to hold onto good memories yourself despite the sadness you still feel.

“I hope you like it,” he says before bidding you goodbye.

You walk through the neighborhood and picture yourself going through this route everyday. It’s definitely nothing like the busy streets that you’re used to. There are more trees and quaint cafes and boutique stores here, and even just this change is already making you feel lighter; you can imagine getting over your stress with surroundings like this. You suppose that’s how Namjoon remains as calm and hopeful as he is despite his responsibilities - there’s so much energy you get just being outdoors, and it’s something you decide you’ll do today.

You have all the time in the world now, so you grab coffee then head to a park to enjoy the early summer cool air.

The book that Namjoon gave you is a novel published five years ago about a woman who quit her job in search of herself. You don’t think it’s a coincidence, as in such a short time, you've come to know him as a thoughtful man who’s very assuring, and you suppose this is his way of telling you that everything will be okay as you take on this new journey alongside him. The bright color palette of the design seems to reflect the hopeful subject of the book, and right as you’re about to start reading, the sound of children laughing catches your attention.

There’s a playground nearby, and your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. There’s an image of him looking happy and safe in a place that made him feel those things that you keep in your heart. You don’t know how he looks like as a child but you can somehow imagine a little boy riding the swing and coming down the slide with the softest smile and thinking that he can do and be anything he wants, that he feels capable enough for it, and that he’s able to share that joy with whoever who’s with him.

You think about earlier when Namjoon was talking about your capabilities and how you were able to see yourself the way Jungkook and Hoseok see you as a professional. You think about how it felt being supported that way, how their trust and confidence in you made you trust and be confident in yourself, too. There’s this pride you feel at being able to make that much of an impression on your new boss early on and there’s no stress, there’s no pressure.

Sure, you want to show that all those aren’t empty words, but there’s no urge to prove yourself that you earned your spot unlike how you’ve been these past nine years. There’s just this desire to live - work is a part of it but so is reading stories, meeting people and learning about them, walking through quiet streets and appreciating the sunlight peeking through the trees. There’s this yearning to experience the day and not just survive it.

You look at the book in your hands and know that someday, you’ll be holding one that you had a hand in creating. And it would be something that you poured your heart and soul into, one that you experienced in its entirety, and it would make you so happy knowing that you could touch it, that you can hear it, that you can see the story come to life in your mind.

You trace your fingers down the front cover and realize that this beautiful thing is tangible. And then you realize another thing - happiness is tangible, too. You’d felt it, you’d heard it. You’d seen it smile at you. You’d felt its lips against yours, too, but then you pulled away and became too afraid to take it back. Happiness was so close - it breathed you in, it held you close; it wanted you, and you were too scared to let it stay.

You spent so many years chasing it. You’d found it in your friends and your new family, but there was always something more that you wanted, one that you couldn’t find. Until him. And you’re slowly learning just how painful it is to let it slip away.

Jungkook stays in your mind for the rest of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to share about your day.

You want to tell him that you felt a little shy when Namjoon was praising you but that you felt proud of yourself. And that you wanted to thank him.

You want to tell Jungkook that your new work environment is quite charming, that the surrounding areas are inspiring, and that you might just start spending time outdoors from now on. And that you wish you get to explore it with him.

You want to tell him that you’re excited to start your new job and that you’ll maybe start reading books because you’ll have a hand in creating the finished products. And that you want to share that with him, maybe make him read it, too.

You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have doubted what he felt, that you should've stood by your feelings regardless and fought for them. You want to tell him that you don’t regret quitting, but that you regret losing him in the process. That no matter how hard you try, he’s still the one you look for, the one you want to talk about your day with, the one you want to share your dream and hopes to.

Jungkook has made you feel free in a way that you hadn’t before - an irony, considering that working for his family made you feel constricted, burdened, stagnant. But there are so many possibilities with him, so many reasons - to smile, to be brave, to hope, to yearn for more, to believe that you deserve good things that you can touch. And you want to know what those are like; you don’t want to lose out on that chance and lose him completely.

Perhaps all you had to do was free your heart so it could feel what it’s supposed to. Like what Yoongi said, maybe you just had to follow it to know what it could do.

It’s why on Thursday of that week, you find yourself inside his office with an envelope in hand, as you hope that actually freeing your heart and following it isn’t too late.

You were scheduled to come today so you could get your final pay and sign some documents with HR. You arrived mid-morning and got to those right away. It didn’t take long, which is why you were able to pass by Hoseok’s office to update him about your new job and thank him for the recommendation. You headed to the support team’s office after, and they were quick to make lunch plans with you. Jungkook’s at the Arts Center, they said, so they can take their break in half an hour, but they can’t be out long. There are lots of things they have to do with the opening happening on Friday of the next week.

Lucas told you that he’d found some of your supplies that you’d left and they’re in a drawer in his desk, and you told him that you could get them yourself. They were easy to find, and you took the time to leave little notes for him in between folders and files; you figured that finding them on days when he doesn’t expect them could give him encouragement somehow.

Jungkook’s door was slightly opened, and you took the chance to enter and take in a piece of him. The last time you were here, it felt like there was so much you still couldn’t say, there were feelings you were too afraid to face and words you weren’t sure he wanted to hear. Being back here, you feel a lot braver, and you know it matters that now, you’re trying to be brave for him.

You stand in front of his desk, almost cradling the letter you’d written last night. You’ve spent the past days outdoors, finding cafes and quaint spots in areas that you’ve never explored before. You’ve been reading the book, too, and the more time you spent by yourself - not being tired, not being stressed, not feeling lost or burdened - the more you realized just how much you’ve been missing and yearning for things. And that you deserved whatever it was you wanted, and that included Jungkook.

The life you’d started to live without him convinced you that the intimacy and connection you’ve been desiring is something you can find with him. You want to know what that’s like; you want to know how happy you could be with him, and you’ll only know it if you express it to him this time. You owe it to him to do that; you’re scared that any more time apart will push both of you farther away, too far to pull the other back because the anchor wasn’t set securely in the first place. You don’t want him to be your what if; you don’t want him to be your biggest regret.

Telling him how you felt was another thing, though, and writing a letter took you longer than expected. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you could only hope he’ll see your sincerity through it, and that he’ll still want you, even if it took you quite a while to accept what he felt, too.

His desk isn’t as organized as it usually is, but you place the envelope on top of a folder of blueprints that you know he’s going to get to soon. You know how he is - he always likes his things in their proper place. The center is the urgent pile so you know he’s gonna find this once he gets back and that maybe, he’ll go to you right after, hopefully to tell you that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, and that like he’d asked before, you’ll figure things out together.

There’s fear just as there’s excitement. You hope at the end of all this, you’ll find yourself in his arms - everything forgiven, with nothing but more good memories you’ll create.

You head out to lunch with the team shortly after and hold off on asking how Jungkook’s doing or about the changes in the Arts Center. Everyone looks tired enough as it is and you don’t want them thinking about work during their break, so you settle on talking about your new job and how excited you are. They’ll be supporting the books, they say; you can’t help but think again about how much you want to share them with Jungkook, too.

You spend the rest of the day at home, waiting for that phone call from him or perhaps, his knock on your door. You’re unsure if he’ll come today; you don’t want to think that he wouldn’t, even if he has reasons not to want to see you anymore after what you’ve done.

But the hope lives, as you convince yourself in the evening that maybe he got back to the office late and hadn’t seen your letter.

You do the same thing the next day - you stay at home, hesitant to leave in case he comes, and then tell yourself that there’s a reason why he hasn’t shown up at your door yet.

You do it again the day after, then the next, and then again.

The hope remained but it has now withered away. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he still hasn’t come.

Jungkook sinks in the seat of his desk, breathing heavily as he tries to catch a break. It’s not much, but it’s the only moment he has of complete silence where he forces himself to not do or think about anything. He gives himself only ten minutes each day for this, other than when he’s sleeping. He does it only between meetings or calls or visits to the Arts Center, which he fits all in one day.

It’s only 2PM on Thursday but it might as well be late on a Friday evening. He’s exhausted, as if he hasn’t rested for days, as if he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and as if he hasn’t stopped working. And all of those are true.

Ever since he’d decided on making changes in the Arts Center, he’s been going nonstop. From drawing up the design, purchasing materials, to constructing the room, Jungkook has been doing it all, on top of managing the rest of the work being done. He’s employed the help of Yoongi and a project manager to help him, but Jungkook has been the one making all the decisions, and that definitely didn’t go well with his father.

He caught the ire of the old man right away, with the CEO scolding him for doing this weeks before the opening and for going over budget, which is why Jungkook stays in the Arts Center most of the day, going in the afternoon and then staying or returning at night, doing the manual labor himself so he doesn’t have to pay more for the workers. He paints the walls as well as some of the furniture, and that’s taken so much of him these past weeks, especially his time, time that he’d taken away from seeing you.

He wasn’t really present during your last days at the company. He approved all your leaves and he was sincere about having you take them, but during the days when you were in the office, he was barely there. He was either physically at the Center or his mind was.

Other times, he was performing his executive functions, with Hoseok reminding him of his Vice President duties. Jungkook had neglected some of them, as evidenced by his messy desk that’s giving him a headache. He’s always been organized with his things but not recently, not when all he’s been doing is working himself to the bone like what he’s used to. But this has more at stake for him; this isn’t just some structure or room he’s building. It’s so much more.

One other thing he’s been doing is regretting that he wasn’t there during your last day to bid you goodbye and to see you for the last time, it seemed like. He wished you well and thanked you, even if there was more he wanted to say. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he wouldn’t have handled lingering, too, if that would give you a chance to say something more to him that would make him express what he’s really feeling, and he’s scared that would push you further away.

He was never good at that. The one time he told you what he wanted and felt, things didn’t go right - the timing was off, you doubted his sincerity, and there was so much you kept hidden from him. He hasn’t known what to do nor say since then, which is why he’s doing what he’s doing for you. It’s more than the words he doesn’t know how to say; it’s something he won’t regret as it expresses everything that’s been in his heart, and it’s lasting, it’s constant, it’s comforting; it’s everything he wants to be for you.

But then again, all this work kept him from seeing you for the last time, and it’s a reminder again of how he’s been living his life - diverting his attention to other things instead of facing what’s important.

There’s not much he can do now, though. Everything has been completed. All the certifications have been secured, all the invitations are out, the promotion for the opening is all over social media, and the support team is on top of everything that’ll take place tomorrow. With the end of it just within reach, he’s able to take a breath, and it’s why he’s able to extend his short break to 15 minutes.

The Arts Center is being cleaned and security checked, so he has no choice but to stay away from it until it opens tomorrow. So right now, he has the time to work on his other responsibilities, such as draft plans for a project that Hoseok’s working on that he’d asked Jungkook to review.

“I had Lucas leave the blueprints on your desk last week,” the older man says over the phone after being asked if the files are still with him. “You should see it right away. It was urgent so I told him to put it at the center.”

“Well, that’s one of many that’s apparently urgent,” Jungkook sighs as he sees the pile of documents in front of him. It seems like he’s neglected a lot of other things this past week. “When did you say you left them?”

“Thursday morning,” Hoseok responds. “You would’ve seen them immediately.”

“I would’ve… except I haven’t really been at my desk in days.”

Which is the truth. Jungkook has been sitting on his desk only to go through his emails and then signing documents that Lucas gives him before heading to meetings and the Arts Center. It’s been his schedule this entire week, which is why he hadn’t seen the designs that Hoseok’s talking about. And as Jungkook goes through the pile - of memos for checking, of studies from Yoongi - he sees something else that makes his heart drop.

The last time he found an envelope on his desk with your handwriting on it, his world took a complete turn. He remembers reading that resignation letter and thinking that he’d really screwed things up, that life wasn’t going to be the same without you next to him everyday, and that there was no way he could have you again after how things turned out.

He doesn’t know what to expect with this, not when he hasn’t seen you in days, and not when he doesn’t know how you’re doing right now.

“Kook?” Hoseok says on the other end after the prolonged silence. “Are you still there?”

“Did ___ come to the office this week?”

“She was here last Thursday. She signed some HR stuff and dropped by my room. Why?”

“She… she left a letter on my desk.”

“Oh… What does it say?”

“I… I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what’s inside,” Jungkook says, his hands trembling as he places it back down.

“It could be many things but you won’t know unless you read it,” Hoseok responds. “Both of you have been keeping your feelings to each other from each other, Kook. This… this might be something that changes that.”

“Did… did she say anything to you when she visited?”

“Just about her job. She seems content and excited. Whatever else she feels, I’m pretty sure it’s in there. So read it, and don’t worry about the designs. Those can wait.”

Jungkook drops the call, noting that he’ll thank his cousin later on. This letter is the most important thing right now, even if he’s nervous about what’s written on it.

He finally opens the envelope and the first thing he sees are pictures - one of an empty playground, and another one of you on the swing, smiling. It’s been weeks without your smile, and remembering how much comfort it’s given him is what makes him calm down; it’s what makes him have the courage to read through the letter.

Jungkook,

I took the photo of the playground during my birthday trip using the gift you got me. We passed by a park on the way to one of the towns and we stayed there for a while. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I felt a kind of comfort I’ve never felt before, and it made me think of how I feel when I’m around you.

I was thinking of you, too, when Soomin took my photo. I seem to do that a lot, I’ve learned. I think of you and smile, and there’s this unfamiliar feeling of joy. There’s this yearning to feel it everyday, and that scares me. We kissed and the desire for you scared me even more. So did the thought that I can’t be what you need me to be despite what we feel, and that there's a possibility I’d get hurt along the way.

But I learned that what scares me the most is losing you.

I don’t regret leaving, but I regret how I did it, and I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I got to tell you what I really felt, and I wish I realized much sooner that the happiness I’ve been looking for is one I can find with you.

I’m scared of many things, Jungkook, but you make me braver. This is me being brave for you. Please come and find me. I hope it’s not too late.

Jungkook reads the letter one more time. It’s nothing like he imagined but everything he hoped. You’ve wanted him all this time; you still want him after everything. He senses the sadness and the hope in your words, and they’re things he feels, too.

You want him to find you. And just like you, he hopes it’s not too late.

He rushes out of his room and instructs Lucas to cancel all his meetings for the day. Jungkook heads to the support team’s office to tell Mr. Ri that there’s somewhere important they need to go.

“Where to?” The older man asks once they get inside the car.

“___’s place,” Jungkook pants. “Get there as fast as you can.”

Mr. Ri doesn’t ask any more questions. He drives off and merely glances at the rear view mirror.

“We’ll get to her,” he says. “One way or another, we’ll get to her.”

Jungkook could only hope, but when he gets to your apartment and finds it empty, that hope slowly fades. He’d call you but that’s not how he wants to fix things, he thinks. That’s not how he wants to ask you to be with him. He probably won’t even be able to say what he really means. So he tries one more, knocking and calling out your name, but no one comes.

“She’s not here,” someone calls out. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jungkook turns around and finds your elderly neighbor, a woman he’d seen that one day he visited you after you got injured. You’ve mentioned her a few times and how she sends over food on some nights and invites you for tea on some weekends. She looks kind and warm, and definitely curious.

“She… she asked me to find her,” he says dejectedly. “But I didn’t know she wanted me to. I didn’t see her letter right away and now… now it’s too late.”

“You’re the man she was waiting for,” she hums, walking closer. “She’s right, you’re very handsome.”

“She… she talked about me?”

“A few times. I asked about how she got home when she hurt her ankle and she said you helped her,” the woman smiles. “I don’t see anybody visit her other than her friends. And I’ve known her for years; I haven’t seen any other man she’s allowed in her home in all that time, nor has she talked about one. I knew then you meant a lot to her. But she said things were too complicated and that always held her back.”

“That always held me back, too,” he responds. He’d smile at the thought that you’ve talked about him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. There’s a reason why you stopped waiting. “Has she been well?”

“She has. She seems to have more life in her now. I always felt like her old job tired her out so much,” she says. “She’s excited to start fresh, and I’m proud of her. Oftentimes we stay in one place for too long and we just lose ourselves in it, you know? We lose sight of the things that make us happy and it was really brave of her to leave behind everything she’s known.”

“It was. I know that now,” Jungkook sighs. “Did she say if she found it? What makes her happy?”

“She did. She said she found you.”

The words hit him, as he knows it’s the same for him. You may have found each other in the place you’ve both been in for so long, but it’s losing each other that perhaps made you both realize what it was you couldn’t live without. Letting each other go showed what happiness actually looked like, and that neither of you wanted to be without it anymore.

“I found her too late, I think.”

“That’s for her to decide, though. You won’t know unless you look for her,” she hints.

“When did she leave?”

“Tuesday afternoon. That was just two days ago. I doubt she’s changed her mind,” she smiles again. “Well, I’d love to stay here and chat but I have some grandchildren to pick up. And I believe you have someone to find.”

“I think I do,” he responds, the nervousness evident in his voice. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” she hums. “Get to her, okay? She deserves someone who won’t give up on her.”

You don’t, Jungkook agrees, as he nods in goodbye and heads back to the car. That’s not something he will do this time. All he’s done was let his fears and worries speak for him these past months and he doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when there’s more of you that he’ll lose.

“She’s not home,” Jungkook responds to Mr. Ri’s questioning look. “I… I didn’t get to her in time.”

“Where to, then?”

Jungkook breaks as he imagines you in your apartment, waiting for him, wondering when he’d call or knock on your door. He can’t imagine you still doing that after he made you wait, but the one thing he’ll do this time is go to where you are and tell you everything he needs to.

After the heartbreak he caused, he assumes you’d go to either your family or your friends. He remembers the way you’d talked about your mom in the past, and how her comfort was always the one you sought.

“Do you mind driving to Daegu?” Jungkook asks.

“Not at all,” Mr. Ri smiles. “I figure she’ll be there, too.”

The long drive feels that much longer with Jungkook in the passenger seat, just looking out the window and watching the buildings and houses pass him by. He turns to the man next to him every once in a while, asking about how you were during your last weeks in the office.

“She was trying her best, making sure she had everything organized. She spent a lot of time with the team, too, and I think that lessened her guilt, because she felt that,” Mr. Ri shares. “She hated that she had to leave at this time, but I knew it meant a lot to her that she was finally doing it.”

Jungkook hums, thankful that the team assured you that it was all okay. But still, he wondered some more, and the look on his face is something that the older man reads.

“She hated that she had to leave you, too,” Mr. Ri adds. “I think it mattered to her that she didn’t feel tied to your family through you, even if she was always going to be. It mattered that she made that choice to leave you, that she came to terms with who she is and her past and decided that it didn’t matter, that she still wanted you despite all of that.”

“You sound hopeful,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “That makes one of us.”

“You can tell how much someone cares by how they hurt, Jungkook. And during her farewell dinner when you didn’t show up, she… she was hurt,” Mr. Ri says. “I had to wipe her tears that night. I think that’s also when she realized how much she really felt for you, when she saw what life could be like without you and knew it wouldn’t make her happy.”

Knowing he made you cry again when he wasn’t there on your last day frustrates Jungkook. He held himself back that time, thinking that a short goodbye would be better for both of you. Then he spent the rest of the day at the Arts Center and he’d completely forgotten about the dinner. In his mind, he already let you go; seeing you another time would pain him again. But that’s what hurt you in return.

“Why are you going after her now?” Mr. Ri bursts through his thoughts. “After all these weeks of avoiding her, of convincing yourself that letting her go was the right decision, why now?”

“It hurts so much without her. I guess it’s how I know.”

The older man gives a satisfied smile. He always knew that only both of you could decide for yourselves when the pain was too much because only both of you would really know what to do about it. You've done your part and now it’s Jungkook’s turn.

They make it to your neighborhood in over three hours, with only one stop over at a service center. It’s the house in the corner, Mr. Ri says, and realizing that you’re so close again, Jungkook starts getting anxious. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. He supposes that coming out here to see you on a work day is enough of a statement, and maybe you’ll both just take it from there.

The car stops and he looks at the man to his left, as if pleading to take the lead for now.

“Aish,” Mr. Ri huffs. “Are you really gonna make me ring the doorbell and ask for her after driving you all the way here?”

“Yes,” Jungkook pouts. “I… I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t wanna see me because I made her wait too long? What if she’s angry? What if she realized while waiting for me that she made a mistake?”

“Over three hours sitting in the car and that’s what you came up with? That she’s angry?” Mr. Ri scowls. “Don’t make me think you’re hopeless.”

“Please?”

The older man sighs, thinking that Jungkook just needs time to pull himself together before facing you.

They both get out of the car, with Jungkook standing on the side of the entryway, hiding behind the shrubs just in case you answer the door.

Mr. Ri rings the doorbell and not long after, the gate opens. And for all the years that Jungkook has known the older man - with his firm and often stoic disposition - this is the first time that he’s ever seen his face soften, the gentle smile appearing and lingering. There’s a beat of silence, a moment of appreciation it seems, before he says anything.

“Hye-soo. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Byung-hun,” the woman greets. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we saw each other? Was it ___’s 25th birthday?”

“I think it was. That was a really great day. Your house looked much different back then.”

“Who knew an old house needed repairs and renovations to stay up,” she laughs. “But it all worked out. We’ve got more space now.”

“Space enough for Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin to run about?” Mr. Ri chuckles. “I remember their tag game then. They complained how it always ended so fast. But ___ also told me they’ve grown up so much now. And that they adore you. How’s it like raising teenagers at this time?”

“Ah, difficult,” she chuckles. “But it’s wonderful. They… they truly see me as their mother and I… I get to do things right this time.”

“Hey, you always did,” he comforts, having seen her do everything she could for you. “No one could’ve raised and loved ___ better than you. You got through the toughest times because of that.”

“With a little help, of course,” she smiles. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you. And years later, you’re still looking out for her. That means the world to me.”

She’s where all my love goes to, Mr. Ri doesn’t say. He knew early on that the only way to not lose himself in losing her is to care for the one person she loves the most - you.

“And you? Have you been well?” Hye-soo asks.

“As well as I could be,” he hums. “The stress isn’t the same as when I was working next to Jae-sung but he still tasked me to babysit his son; that in itself is a bit tough.”

“And why is that?” Hye-soo giggles, knowing there’s affection in his words.

“He’s a bit of a hard-head, you know? Pretty stubborn, too, just like his father,” Mr. Ri laments, disregarding the scrunched eyebrows of the man just meters away from him. “And he makes me drive all the way out here, only to be scared to face the woman he’s been looking for.”

“Is that so?” Hye-soo asks, picking up on the man in front of him gesturing towards the side. “I hope he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of.”

Mr. Ri finally turns to Jungkook, motioning for him to get out of hiding and do what he came here for. Jungkook sighs in his place, thinking that this is the first time he’s meeting your mother, and it’s after he’d made you wait and think that he doesn’t feel the same way. With his head bowed down, he walks towards the gate.

There’s a softness on his face when he looks up, and Hye-soo beams in delight at how the man she hasn’t seen in over 20 years looks very much like the 10-year old boy who used to quietly draw cars and houses on the Jeon mansion living room floor. It’s that same shyness and those same wide and curious eyes that made her have a soft spot for the younger son. They reminded her so much of you.

“Jungkook,” she says with such warmth. “You’ve grown up so well. It’s nice to see you after all these years.”

She definitely has your smile. It’s welcoming and assuring and perhaps the one thing he didn’t know he needed before seeing you. There’s so much comfort in her eyes, and there’s this subtle strength that she exudes, one that’s oddly giving him the courage to face you.

“Mrs. Cho,” he bows. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wish it was because of other reasons, though.”

“What’s wrong about the reason you have today?” She wonders.

“A lot of things,” he sighs.

“Nonsense. You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she smiles. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be great.”

Jungkook follows inside while Mr. Ri opts to stay behind.

There’s something special about entering someone’s house. People spend time and energy to make it feel like home, to make it be a place of safety and warmth. It’s a place filled with all the things they care about, of all the things they love.

Jungkook never designed the places he’s lived in; an irony, considering his profession. But his residences have always been a place for him to just move into, to just sleep and eat and work at. They’ve always been… empty - grand, expensive, well-designed, but empty. They’re superficial, he would say, a reflection of what he’s always felt. Which is also why he never really welcomes anyone other than his friends. The women he used to bring home don’t count - he’d let them in and make them leave; he never makes them stay long enough to be comfortable, to feel like they belong there. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he belongs there, either, as if it’s a place reserved just for him to feel alone in.

And so being welcomed in someone else’s home feels different. You’d done it to him, and being in your apartment both times made him feel at ease and familiar. Now, your mother welcomes him to the place where you grew up and it feels the same - there’s that comfort, that sense of nostalgia, even if he knows he’s never been here before.

“Welcome to our humble mansion,” your mother says. “Please, feel at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh, yes. Tea is fine,” he bows.

She heads to the kitchen and Jungkook is left to look around. It’s not a small house but it’s not large, either. He’s in the middle of a spacious living room, with shelves lining up the walls - one has family pictures in it, the other one has books and small framed paintings. The dining and kitchen are to the right; on the left is a hallway that seems to lead towards the bedrooms. There’s a screened door that also leads out the backyard.

The entire space is airy, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. He spots some renovations done over time, as there’s some mismatch of materials, something only trained eyes could see. But they’re done well, and he could see the love that created this home for all of you.

Your mother returns with two cups and places them on the table. She asks him to sit down, and Jungkook makes himself comfortable, facing the door as he gazes out at the sky and admires the beautiful changing of the colors. He knows you’d probably admire how it looks, too.

She observes him - nervous as he meets her eyes, a kind of desperation and fear evident as he constantly shifts on his seat. He’s grown up so much, but he’s still that shy little boy she remembers meeting all those years ago. She used to regularly go to the Jeon estate for some private events, and she won’t forget how Jungkook was the son who always kept to himself, content with a sketchpad and some crayons or riding the swing in his custom-built playground.

“Do you remember me at all?” She wonders.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Did I see you often?”

“A handful of times,” she responds. “Your father introduced me to you and your brother when I first started and I’d see you whenever I had to go to your house. But you were always so shy.”

“I was, but I… I wasn’t really good at paying attention. And I guess, there were a lot of things from when I was younger that I don’t remember,” he explains.

The faraway look in his eyes says that there’s more to that, that they aren’t just things he doesn’t remember but they’re memories he tries not to, that he blocks out.

“I’m sorry about what you had to go through as a child,” your mother says, having wanted to express her apology for years, knowing how much the experience haunted him. “I involved your parents in a very personal matter and that deeply affected your family. It affected you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And I know it wasn’t my parents’, either,” he sighs, feeling regret over the resentment he felt and the distance he created.

“They were just trying to protect you. I hope you know that now.”

“I do,” he hums. “Do you… do you know what happened that night? In the woods?”

“Byung-hun told me,” she nods. “I’ve never seen him so broken over not finding you sooner. He carried that guilt with him, too, that he didn’t look out for you the way he should’ve.”

“I… I didn’t know that.”

“That man feels a lot even if he doesn’t show it. He’s got the biggest heart that I know and he cares for you so much,” she smiles. “A lot of people do. That includes my daughter.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s eyes perk up, the softness mixed with sadness evident once more.

“She and I didn’t want our ties to your family to be known,” she explains. “It was a way for us to move on from all that happened. But in no way did she mean to deceive you. She… she would talk about you with such admiration and fondness. And you showed her that it was okay to let people in, that it could be worth it to follow her heart. She’d hoped that you could see past her decisions and know that she was sincere about everything. That she was sincere about what she felt for you.”

“I… I know that now.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re here?”

“It is,” he sighs, wanting so badly to see you, even if he doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to. “Is she around?”

There’s a prolonged silence after his question, and your mother’s eyes flit to the far end of the house before they return to him.

“She, uh, she picked up the girls from school and decided to have dinner out and watch the movies,” she excuses. “I’m not quite sure what time they’ll arrive. And it’s a shame that you came all the way here. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Jungkook debates whether he should wait to say all this to you, perhaps when you’re ready and able to see him, or to say what he can now, knowing it’s important that he gets to express whatever he can at this moment, knowing it will get to you somehow.

But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can hold everything in. All the emotions he feels for you - the regret, the yearning, the desire to have you next to him - have been festering and he just needs to say them. Maybe doing so in front of your mother might be a bit of pressure, but if there’s anyone who can relay all this to you, it would be her.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not good at, Mrs. Cho. Opening myself up is one of them,” he starts. “But your daughter, she… she showed me that it wasn’t so bad. That it’s something I’m capable of doing, and that it’s safe to do that with her. Even when I distanced myself, she didn’t go anywhere, and that does a lot for a person.”

“She’s quite stubborn, isn’t she?” Your mother laughs, remembering those hard times when she’d tell you to get ready for bed, with you disobeying her because you wanted to hold her hand while she cried.

“She is,” he echoes. “It’s one of the reasons why I like her. One of many, actually. She’s also so patient and gentle and understanding… everything I’m not but… all the things I want to be for her. And I wish I’d told her all this when I had the chance but I was so blinded by my own needs that I… I eventually pushed her away. But she was still the one to reach out. She left that letter but I only saw it today and I…”

“Came all the way here to see her,” she finishes.

“Is it too late, do you think?”

“Between the both of us, not at all,” your mother smiles. “She’s all those things you said but she’s human, Jungkook. She gets scared, too, and hard-headed and tired and upset because she feels so much when she allows herself to do that. And sometimes she needs someone to just show her that it’s worth it, that having fears is valid but that they’re not the only things out there. And you being here… I think it’s what she needs.”

She pauses so he could process her words, meeting his eyes so he could feel them even more.

“You’re all she thinks about, you know? She likes being home with us and she’s excited for her new job but I can tell that there’s something missing. And I know that's you.”

“She’s all I think about, too,” he expresses, feeling more at ease now. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just always think about being with her. And I know that made her doubt, too. I’ve gotten so used to her presence but that’s not out of necessity. I’m not… a boss when I’m with her. I’m just… me. Because she made me see myself as someone beyond all that I do, someone worthy, and it’s that person who wants her, who needs her.”

Jungkook bows his head, angry at himself as all the words come out now, at a time when you’re not in front of him to hear them, to see that he means all of them. For weeks, all the things you said rang in his mind and every time you were in front of him, there were so many things he wanted to say but he never could, afraid of your rejection, of losing you for good. Now they’re out in the open, but somehow the words don’t seem enough. He realizes that when it comes to what he feels for you, nothing is.

“These are the things I should’ve said to her but I just got overwhelmed at the thought of losing her,” he continues. “I don’t want that, Mrs. Cho. I don’t want to lose your daughter. I want to be with her and tell her that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that I want to protect her and take care of her. I want to make her happy.”

It’s the most he’s said about how he feels for you, and he feels quite overwhelmed about expressing them. But he has to say them. You have to know, even if you’re not the one in front of him. They’ll get to you, he’s sure of it.

“I know she wants that, too, Jungkook. And seeing you now, I just know you’ll find your way to each other again, and you’ll both be free from whatever it was that was holding you back,” she assures. “But if it’s not too much, do you mind being a little patient with her this time?”

“Of course,” he nods, knowing that everything that’s happened could make you a bit cautious again, and that’s not something he could blame you for. He’ll give you as much time as you need, and you’ll be the one to find him once you’re ready. “I’ll just be where I always am. And uh, the Arts Center opens tomorrow. It would be great if she could come.”

“She’ll know where to find you,” she smiles.

He feels that he’s said all that he could, so he finishes his tea and stands up. He remembers that he bought something for you, initially hoping that it would make you smile once he gave them.

“Could you, uh, could you give this to her?” He asks, handing your mother a plastic bag, somehow feeling ashamed that this is all he got as a peace offering.

She peeks inside, her eyes widening in delight.

“Chocopie?”

“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “I would’ve given her flowers but I just thought this would make her happier. ___ told me that it’s her favorite because you’d give it to her as a treat while she waited for you to get off work at the school. She said it always made her day.”

“This was your favorite, too, wasn’t it?” Your mother asks.

“It was. My mother said I always hoarded the ones she’d bring home and wouldn’t share it with anyone,” Jungkook chuckles, recalling those days of stacking them in his room and quietly eating them while he drew houses on his drawing pad.

“You shared it to ___, though,” she says.

It catches him by surprise. He’s never done that, as far as he knows. This is the first time he’s even getting it for you.

“That night those years ago, after I told your father what was happening, he offered us to stay at the staff house of your family’s estate until I’ve sorted things out,” she recalls. “We were in the living room while your parents talked to me and there was little ___, hiding behind my legs. I noticed her let go for a bit and that’s when I saw you, handing her some chocopie. She was always a shy kid but she took what you were giving, and I remember the smile on her face. Everything was new and scary for her and that… that was the first time she smiled that day. And I’ll never forget it.”

Jungkook stands in silence, as much of his memories from those years have been buried deep in his mind. He remembers hiding away whenever there were visitors at home but perhaps he looked on, curious about the girl who seemed scared and maybe something prompted him to share the treat with you, and something pushed you to take it.

“I thought she was just being nice,” your mother continues. “She didn’t really like sweets then but she ate the ones you gave her. And when I’d take her to the convenience store after that, it’s what she always picked out. I’ve just been getting it for her since then, and that’s probably what she remembers but it was you, Jungkook. You’re why I bought it for her every time.”

“We’ve… we’ve met before. And I didn’t even know,” he manages to say, thinking now about the familiarity of your presence and the need to always look out for you.

It’s something he always wondered about, how someone could just pull him in and make him feel things he’d never felt before - that comfort, that warmth, that desire to be good for someone else. It turns out, he’d felt those long before he knew much about the world. And while so many things happened that got both of you here, there’s still something serendipitous about not realizing you met as kids, and then finding each other decades later. There’s all this pain and sadness between the both of you, much of them intertwined, but at the end of it, you heal each other, you make each other stronger, braver.

“She didn’t know, either,” your mother hums. “And this just means that she always kept something of you from that day. Without realizing it, you were always a good memory that she kept; you let her forget the bad things even though she'd forgotten about you, too. It’s how I know that even if she’s not the one in front of you right now, her heart will always search for you.”

Your mother’s smile is reassuring, as if she knows that it’s what he needs. He’d meant to find you today and tell you everything he feels, but somehow he believes it would’ve been hard for him to do that, and so expressing it is all he could do. He feels like he’s gotten so much despite not seeing you though. Learning that missing part of his childhood that had you in it is overwhelming enough, but perhaps it reinforces what he’s known all along - that his heart will also always search for you, it’ll always find you, and it will always be what he wants to hold close to him.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mrs. Cho,” he says as he bows another time and heads out to leave. “It means a lot meeting you today.”

“It does for me, too,” she states, leading him towards the door and out to the street where Mr. Ri waits. “And thank you for being good to my daughter. She’ll find you. You have to trust that she will.”

He nods, knowing he’ll just have to have faith in what you feel for him. And he hopes that as he walks away and gives you the space you need, you’ll trust in what he feels for you, too.

Your mother bids you and Mr. Ri goodbye, the longing look between friends hitting Jungkook deeply. They’re each other’s what if’s, and while one was able to live out another love, the other kept living out the one he let go of. It’s painful, and Jungkook now can’t imagine making that choice of letting you go completely.

Love is a big word. It’s something he’s forgotten how to feel. He knows there’s still so much more to experience with you and love could be one thing, and that’s a possibility he’s sure he wants to live out one day.

He enters the car and sighs as he sinks in his seat. It’s been a long day and an even longer trip back home, but Mr. Ri insists that they take it.

The older man starts the car and looks dejectedly to his side. “So, she wasn’t there, huh?”

It takes a while but Jungkook answers. “She was.”

It’s a wild guess, but somehow he knew you were there, probably inside one of the opened rooms or in the hallway, just meters away from him but still so far away. Your mother had said you were out, but the way her eyes constantly flitted elsewhere, the way she gave him the time and space to just talk and express his feelings, and the fact that she’d shared that story about both of you meeting as children as if she meant to say it to you, too, all told him that you were right there.

Maybe you hadn’t expected him to come. Maybe you didn’t know what to say this time. Or maybe you thought that seeing you would leave him tongue-tied again, unable to express everything he means, and you wouldn’t be wrong. He just focused on what he felt and not the right things to say or how you’d react at that moment, and he supposes that allowed him to be vulnerable, too.

“And you’re not there with her because?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“Because she needs time,” Jungkook states. “And it’s the least I could give her. And I’ll wait until she’s ready. We’ve spent all these months avoiding each other, thinking that letting each other go is the way to move forward but I… I know that’s not what I want. She is. And I’ll show her I mean it.”

“Well, you went to her. And that’s not all you’re doing.”

“I’m not good with words, you know that,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“I do. She knows that, too. So when she sees everything that you’ve done… she’ll know you mean it.”

It's the assurance that Jungkook needs, and he’ll hold onto that, too, until the time you find him again. Right now, he’ll focus on the Arts Center - he owes it to you to make sure that all the work you put into it is worth it. He knows you’ll want that, too.

The long drive to Daegu had him think about how much of yourself you’ve given to the project that means the world to him. You may have done so because it was your job, but he can’t help but think that in the midst of it, you saw what he was yearning for, what he was trying to attain for himself, and that it mattered to you that he did.

Jungkook and Mr. Ri go to a restaurant for dinner on the way back to Seoul, and the serious expression on the older man’s face has returned. This is his default state, but his soft, longing look is something that Jungkook won’t forget soon.

“How was it like seeing her after all these years?” Jungkook wonders. “Does… does it still hurt, knowing what could have been and the life she lives now?”

It takes a while but Mr. Ri finally replies. “In an alternate universe, Hye-soo and I are living with our family on some farm. We talked about that a few times, about wanting to grow old in a place that’s peaceful,” he recalls, all those long drives and hectic days becoming worth it whenever he shared them with her. “But this is the universe and lifetime I’m living now. The decisions I made brought me here, but they also set her free. You’ve met her, you’ve seen her home. She’s happy where she is and even if it’s not next to me, that’s the life I always wish she’d have.”

Jungkook hums, unable to fully comprehend the heartbreak of letting someone go like that, and then seeing them live a life that he could’ve shared with them. Thinking about meeting you at a park or something years from now, perhaps with a husband or children, and then wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you go plagues him. That’s not the life he wants. It’s not a decision he wants to make, and he could only hope that neither do you.

He looks across at the man in front of him with all that love for the woman he can’t have, and Jungkook wonders where all of that goes, recalling a conversation from not long ago, when Mr. Ri first revealed about a woman he’s held onto for years.

“Does it all go to ___, then? All that love?”

“It does,” Mr. Ri hums. “It also goes to your family, Jungkook. It goes to you. Those have kept me going all these years and they always will, so seeing you and ___ care for each other means a lot to me, too.”

It’s a comforting thought, knowing that at the end of everything, Mr. Ri still finds happiness in others, that he hasn’t allowed himself to fall into a kind of despair that paralyzes him. Jungkook recalls growing up and seeing the older man always by his father’s side, joining him on his trips and then coming back with some treats that he gives to Jungkook and his brother. When he was in Singapore, Mr. Ri visited often, showing up whenever he had a project launch. Jungkook also knows that he stayed in Canada for a few months, helping Jeong-sik recover after an accident left him with broken limbs.

And there was that incident that Jungkook carries with him, how he was powerless and alone under the rain but it was Mr. Ri who searched for him, who didn’t give up, who dealt with that guilt for years. And Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever thanked the man for all he’s done.

They engage in light talk for the rest of dinner. Jungkook offers to drive the rest of the way home, insisting that it’s a way for him to preoccupy himself instead of thinking about you. They spend it recalling his growing up years, how he slowly isolated himself, and then how he gradually opened up again. The older man expresses how proud he is, that regardless of what happens after all this, Jungkook pursued his happiness, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you, for uh, for everything,” Jungkook says as he exits the car, hoping that his simple words would convey all his emotions.

There’s a softness on Mr. Ri’s face this time, one that Jungkook has seen only twice in his lifetime, both of which were today. It speaks of care and warmth; he knows now that it also speaks of love.

You lay on your mother’s lap, needing the comfort you always felt whenever she held you close and ran her fingers through your hair. It’s something she always did when you were a child, and she knows that despite having grown up, you need it now just as much as you did before. She doesn’t say much, letting the silence of your bedroom envelope the both of you this Thursday evening.

It’s been a roller coaster of emotions this past week, and today pretty much took you on a deep plunge that has you holding onto your chest and wanting the stability of being on the ground. After you left that letter on Jungkook’s desk last Thursday, you stayed in your apartment and waited for days.

In hindsight, maybe it was silly that you stayed put when you could’ve called or gone back to his office in an attempt to talk to him. But you weren’t sure what he was feeling, if he was harboring resentment for how you chose to leave, or if he was too busy with the Arts Center opening to even think about you. He kept himself busy during your last weeks after all, and he missed your farewell dinner, too.

That letter was your way of expressing yourself without the fear of outright rejection. And giving him that decision to find you was your way of telling him that it was his call, that if he still wanted you, you’d be waiting for him. And that’s what you did, day in and day out - you waited for that knock on the door or for the ring of your phone.

It drove you crazy, thinking that you could be with him already, but the possibility of him also deciding that that’s no longer what he wanted plagued your mind; it’s what kept you from making that call or paying him a visit. There was that part of you that couldn’t help but think that he might’ve wanted things to just remain as they are. It made you realize that despite taking that step of being brave, there was still fear within you that held you back.

The hope dwindled by the weekend despite the comforting conversation you had with your neighbor, and on Tuesday afternoon, the sadness took over. You packed your bags and decided that if you were to get over this, being with your family is where you need to be. You knew your mother would convince you to wait for Jungkook a little longer. She’d be the reasonable one and say that maybe he’d missed the letter. And she may be right, but if you were to pursue him again, you knew you needed to be around people you loved to give you back that strength and confidence.

It turns out, your mother was right. Jungkook did miss the letter. It took him days to see it, and he didn’t waste his time and went to find you right away. Perhaps that certainty that you’ve been needing is what turns out to be the one that overwhelms you in the end. You walked out of your room to find him in your living room, and you froze. You stayed rooted in that hallway, listening to him talk about what he felt for you, and all you could do was hug your knees as you sat on the floor, taking his words in, hoping they’d heal your heart as quickly as his silence broke it.

“Do you think he knew I was there?” You look up to your mother in question.

“I think he did,” she hums. “I doubt he would’ve said as much as he did to me, someone he’s just met, unless he knew you could hear him. He had this look on his eyes - it was sad and sincere, full of regret but also of hope. And it just felt like was baring himself right there, hoping you’d know exactly what he felt.”

You think about it. Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn’t have let himself be that vulnerable to someone that easily, even if it was in front of your mother. He’s not always able to express himself to you, and maybe that’s why. Maybe like you, he loses his words and caves in in front of the person he wants. It’s happened so many times to you, and it’s one reason you chose a letter to express your feelings; saying it to him directly with all the uncertainties just terrified you.

But he’d been bold, he’d been honest. And you got to hear his every word, and you believed all of it.

“Why didn’t you want to see him?” she asks, given that you’d shaken your head when she looked at you after he’d asked if you were around. “What were you so afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It felt so long being without him, and I was holding onto this hope after leaving that letter and then the wait just… it discouraged me. Somehow seeing him there paralyzed me a little,” you explain. “Suddenly I wasn’t ready. I had all these feelings that were hanging in the air and to hear that he returned all those was just… I… I was overwhelmed because he was finally within reach.”

“Both of you are in this constant push and pull that’s keeping you from each other,” she points out. “At some point, you’ll have to just get over the fear and meet him where he is and he’ll have to do the same. No one wins in fear, darling. Weren’t you the one who told me I owed it to myself to give Min-woo a chance? You’re the one who said it was better to be scared with him next to me than to be scared alone.”

“Easy to say that when I’m on the outside, it seems,” you chuckle. “I get what you were feeling then, mom, and I understand now how hard it must’ve been.”

“That’s true, so you’re gonna have to trust me that what you said was true - it was better that I was scared with him next to me than if I was alone,” she repeats. “But I made that choice and it was the best one, because I can’t be any happier than I am now because I let him love me, and I allowed myself to love him. You and Jungkook could do that. You just have to trust that it’s all worth it.”

You nod. At the end of the day, you know it makes a difference that it’s your mother reminding you all of this. It’s her pain that you carried, it’s why you were always scared of opening up and sharing your whole self to another person. And it’s also why it matters that it’s her happiness that she reminds you of that pushes you to get over your fear, or at least, to choose to be with Jungkook in spite of it.

She tucks you in bed and tells you to get some sleep now. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow, she says, as you have to make that long trip back to Seoul in time for the Arts Center opening.

“As your mother, I’m kicking you out of my house,” she teases. “You are to head out there and tell that man how you really feel, okay? I won’t allow you back here until he’s with you.”

“That’s unfair,” you pout.

“It is, but so is keeping yourself away from him,” she shakes her head. “You take after me so much. Stop being stubborn.”

You laugh this time, knowing that while it’s that stubbornness that pushed Jungkook to open up to you, it’s that same trait that’s keeping you away from him.

“I will. And I’ll head out tomorrow,” you promise. “I’m so tired of being sad.”

“Good. No one gets tired from being happy, so that’s what you should try to be.”

Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, tightening his necktie and then spending half a minute to determine if it’s aligned or not.

It’s something he’s started doing. It’s been weeks since you left and stopped doing it for him, and even if Lucas has pointed out a few times that it was crooked, the younger man never really attempted to fix it. Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to learn how to do it himself. For an architect with trained eyes, he’s ironically terrible at assessing something as simple as this. He never knows if he’s done it right, and he’ll always be amazed at how you do it.

He finally decides he’s done it correctly, and he takes his coat to complete his look for the biggest day of his professional life. He opts for the classic suit this time, needing that refinement and elegance that a Kim Taehyung tailored outfit gives. Despite his best friend’s suggestions of trying something a little different, Jungkook insisted that simple is what he wants - the attention shouldn’t be on him, adamant that a textured charcoal ensemble would do its job. The pattern differentiates it from an ordinary suit so he at least doesn’t blend in too much and it’s a good compromise. You agreed with him on this months ago, and hearing you assure him that it looks good on him is something he’s missing.

He shakes his head at the thought. Here he is again, his mind going to you. Perhaps it’s his body’s way of dealing with the nerves; somehow thinking of you calms him down even if you’re not around. You’ve always had that effect on him, and with the unveiling of most important project of his life as the company’s Vice President, that composure and confidence is what he needs.

It doesn’t stop him from wishing that you’d taken to heart what he said yesterday, not just about what he feels but about finding him. You know most of the details of today’s opening, and if you wanted to, you’d come to show your support even if he kept you in the dark during your last weeks. And if you really wanted to, you’d come to tell him that you want to be with him, and that you’re not going to walk away this time.

It’s difficult to have today, of all days, be somewhat of a determinant of how things are going to go for both of you. He’ll definitely wait for as long as he needs to until you’re ready to face him again, but if it’s not today, he’s afraid there’s more that’s holding you back, and that not getting to you early on must’ve really hurt you.

But he’ll keep on, as so much has happened for this day to be as successful as he hopes it to be. Hoseok constantly reminds him of the entire team’s hard work and that it’s what will pull him through. But beyond the expectations from his parents and the Board and past the importance for the artists involved, this was Jungkook’s dream as a professional, and he made it happen. He’ll hold out hope until the last moment that he’ll see you there, though, but if he doesn’t, he’ll just have to deal with your absence like he’s been doing these past weeks.

Jungkook exits his bedroom and gets approving looks from his best friends who’ll be his support system for today. He’d gone to the Arts Center early in the morning despite last night’s long trip back to Seoul, wanting to make sure that everything was okay. It took some reprimanding from his father to finally go home to fix up, the older man claiming that Jungkook will need to collect himself before all the activities in the afternoon.

There’s an interview with the Culture Minister, a press conference right after, and an afternoon tea spread in the nearby hotel for all the artists whose work will be exhibited for the opening - all before the ceremony scheduled for 5PM. It’s a big day and an even bigger evening, and he’ll have to preserve his energy and learn to manage, and it’s the first big event without you. He knows it’ll be hard, so do his friends, which is why they're here to show their support and lend their energy when needed.

“You look like the star of the show,” Seokjin praises. “It’s a really good suit.”

“The stars of the show are the artists, actually,” Jungkook corrects. “And the public. It isn’t me.”

“Too bad. It’s a simple suit but you’re styled to still get attention so own it,” Taehyung states. “You look really good, Kook. So chin up, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

Jungkook tries to smile, hoping that faking it would eventually make it look real.

“We know it’s tough and you wish you could share it with ___, but just think that she’d want you to enjoy this either way,” Seokjin comforts. “You also owe it to her to give it your best today.”

He knows his friends are right. So many things had to come together for today to happen. Everyone involved did their parts. He heard that there’s so much buzz on social media about the Arts Center and the registration that opened to the public exceeded expectations, and that’s only the beginning. Thinking of all the possibilities excites him, and he’ll hold onto that to get him through the day. Or the week and even beyond that, if needed.

Jungkook nods and thanks his friends, saying that it means a lot that they’re there for him. It catches them by surprise because he’s not one to easily express gratitude or any level of sentimentality. They suppose it’s what having you around had done for him, and maybe losing you also reminded him of the importance of being vulnerable.

They head to the hotel that’s one block away from the Arts Center. Jungkook goes through the interview with ease, and with the support of his father, Hoseok, Ji-woo, and Lucas, he manages the press conference, too. He takes some time to collect himself after all that engagement, then he proceeds to the event hall to meet with the artists, curators, and craftspeople and show his appreciation.

He feels a sense of accomplishment already just knowing that they’re as excited as he is. The inaugural exhibitions feature their work, and the products created to commemorate them are all beautiful. It’s truly come together, he thinks, and he allows himself to feel pride for the first time, knowing that more than the structure, it’s the connections and the art that they’re all celebrating, and it’s what he always hoped to achieve with this project.

It’s not long after when he finds himself in the Arts Center, first doing the customary ribbon cutting with his father and the Culture Minister before entering the lobby where he’ll give the formal welcome and signal the official opening of the center.

It feels different with so many people present, all awaiting to see how the structure was renovated and what new features they’ll look forward to. There’s a buzz of excitement that Jungkook internalizes, as he sits on a chair by the stage. He watches on as his father and cousins go around to meet the guests, opting to save his energy for his speech. It’s the feel of his mother’s touch that makes him realize he’s shaking, and he turns to her and is met with her warm smile. It’s been a while since he allowed that to comfort him, and at this moment, it’s what he needs.

“It already looks gorgeous, son,” she assures him. “And you’re going to do amazing up there. People listen when you talk, and they believe in what you say. I’ve seen it. So just trust in yourself, okay? At the end of the day, the structure speaks for itself, and that’s what the people will remember.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook smiles back. “And thank you for staying here with me. And uh, for all the other project launches that you attended.”

“Of course, Jungkook. I’ll always be there to support you,” she says. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Anything that you work on will be something I’m proud of. Never forget that.”

He nods, feeling a little lighter the more he accepts the love and support of those around him. He never really knew what that felt like, and he knows that’s all on him. He’ll try to change that now, and he supposes that expressing and receiving gratitude is one thing that he took from you. He just hopes he gets to have an opportunity to thank you again - he wouldn’t have done any of this without you.

Chin-sun approaches him to say that they’ll begin shortly, and Jungkook looks at the growing crowd one last time, that sliver of hope that he’ll see you keeping him going. There are so many moving parts to this entire project, but he knows he’s not alone. After tonight, he can breathe easy and look back at the year that’s passed and know that he put his all into this, and that it turned out to be exactly how he imagined it to be.

It’s not long after when the program begins. CEO Jeon gives his opening remarks, followed by the Culture Minister, before Jungkook takes the stage. It’s a much longer speech he gives this time, as he wants to make sure that he gets to thoughtfully express his hope and purpose for the Arts Center. He talks briefly about its conception and then delves into the ideas of connection and intimacy, how he wants art to be experienced by people as both spectators and creators, and that he wants this to be a hub for people to create meaning, all while celebrating Korean culture in an environment that reflects the merging of tradition and modernism.

He keeps his eye contact with the audience, and he sees their warm reception to his words. A video plays to introduce the artists and craftspeople who are featured, and then he ends with thanking everyone who was involved in the process - from the laborers, suppliers, and contractors, to the Board, the investors, and the executive team. He gives a special message to his project team and management support team, asking them to join him on stage because they deserve all the praise for how the Center turned out.

There’s a resounding applause, and once that’s settled, he finally asks for all the doors to be opened.

“There are so many things to explore here,” he says. “Please savor every space you enter and take your time. The meaning of art is something only you could define but the beauty is in the experience, and the experience is even more fulfilling when it is shared. Thank you very much and have a good evening.”

He watches the crowd disperse and he releases a breath. The night is far from over and the toughest part for him is just about to start, and that’s going around to see how everything is being received. His mother greets him after, congratulating him again. Hoseok and Ji-woo tell him how proud they are, and his father gives him that assuring nod, with words expressing pride and encouragement accompanying it.

Jungkook quickly meets the team and gives instructions on how to divide and conquer before he heads to one of the performance halls. He sees Yoongi hanging around and there’s a warm smile on his friend’s face, a rarity because it’s not usually directed at him.

“You’re getting the hang of these speeches,” Yoongi hums. “___ would be proud.”

“Only if she’d heard it,” Jungkook sighs. “I looked around but I didn’t see her. Do you… do you know if she’s here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook nods, knowing he’ll slowly have to accept that maybe you’re not ready yet, or that asking you to find him here at a time when there are so many people might have been too much. There’s hope that you’ll give him a call or maybe meet him at another time. He understands what you must’ve felt while you waited for him, and he hates himself for making you go through that. It’s excruciating being on the receiving end of it, and it’s only been a few hours.

“Let me know if you see her,” Jungkook instructs. “I’ll just be…”

“Around,” Yoongi chuckles. “I will. But your job continues, so go out there and find out what people are saying. I’ll be on the lookout for her.”

Jungkook thanks him and continues visiting the different halls, engaging with the artists and Board members and some other visitors along the way. He searches for your face in every space he enters, exiting them in disappointment when he doesn’t find you there. His heart slowly breaks, and he hangs on for a little longer until he starts to feel too much, with the tiredness from being on the go the entire day getting to him.

It’s a hard call but he decides to leave. Hoseok assures him that it’s okay; he’s talked to every important person already and that’s enough. People will explore for as long as the Center is open, and he’s got the project and support teams to hold the fort for him. There’s not much else he needs to do anyway; their subsidiary company tasked to manage the operations has already taken over, and Jungkook’s main tasks have been fulfilled. It eases him, knowing that he’s not abandoning anyone by deciding to step out.

As the hours go by with no sight of you, the heavier he feels. He needs time alone, not just because his battery’s gone out but also to just wallow in the sadness. It’s pitiful but it seems better than constantly hoping he’d see you here while being surrounded by so many people.

He goes to one final area before heading out. It’s the most special one, the one he dedicates to you, the one he hopes you’d one day see and know that he thought of you everyday, even during the days when it didn’t seem like it. He wonders if you’ll like it, if it would remind you of what you grew up with, and if it would be a place for you to feel safe and free and happy in, all the things he’d wished you’d feel with him.

One last look and there’s still no sign of you. He calls Mr. Ri and asks to be dropped off at the office. It seems like a better place to be in when he’s sad and upset.

The building is empty on a Friday night. Everyone’s either at the Arts Center or gone home and he’s ironically the one craving for the loneliness of this place. He’s committed himself to his job for a decade and doesn’t know much of who he is outside of it. He learned a bit of that in the midst of the biggest change he’s experienced and the most challenging year he’s had, and it was through you.

He learned that he’s actually quite caring, that there’s a protective side to him, that he steps up and shows up when he’s needed, and that he finds joy and peace in the outdoors. He’s passionate and a perfectionist but he wants to be a bit spontaneous, too. He makes mistakes and can apologize for them. He’s capable of kindness and in some instances, enjoys the company of other people with whom he can observe and laugh with. Being alone often made him feel lonely, and he realized that he’s someone who craves companionship, who wants intimacy, and that he’s someone willing to be vulnerable and share himself with the right person. And while he tends to be impatient most times, with you, he’s willing to wait. And for you, he’ll try to be better.

He enters his office and lets the silence envelope him. The city looks alive from his window but there’s dullness from within. He’ll get over it, he thinks, but until then, that sadness will remain for as long as you’re not in his life, for as long as you’re not next to him.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the elegance of your rose-colored midi dress a contrast to the stress painted all over your face. You give yourself only a few seconds to admire how you look - there’s a bit of that sexiness from the v-neckline and front slit, and the flutter sleeves and other vintage details lend to a classic look. Your hair isn’t as fixed as you want and your makeup is too pale for your liking, but with time no longer on your side, those are the least of your problems.

You couldn’t sleep last night despite your mother insisting that you get some rest. The image of Jungkook leaving your house plagued your mind. You should’ve ran after him and told him that you were sorry, that it doesn’t matter anymore if you waited, for as long as he found you. You should’ve stopped him to say that you wanted to be with him, that you were done with running away from what you really wanted, and that you’re willing to always be brave for as long as he held your hand and eased your worries. You should’ve gone back to Seoul with him, but you’d been too overwhelmed to move, to speak, to chase after what you’ve been yearning for.

Deciding to come to the Arts Center opening wasn’t always certain. You knew you were going to visit one day. You worked hard on it, too, and you wanted to show your support even if Jungkook would never know. But when he asked you to find him there, you knew you had to go right away. You imagined him making that speech that you helped him draft months ago, donned in the gray outfit that Taehyung was proud to make for him. You envisioned the smile he’d have on as he looked around to see all his plans come to life and the visitors taking it all in.

You just didn’t expect to sleep through your alarm and then miss the train by a minute. The travel wasn’t bad. The chocopies that Jungkook got you kept you satisfied the entire trip, but it was halfway back to Seoul when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear. The ones you have are either too formal, too casual, or meant for a night out.

Taehyung had designed a dress for you but you said it was no longer necessary after you resigned; it was fortunate that he hadn’t started making it yet, and so the guilt wasn’t too much. You didn’t want to go to the opening in just anything. While it mattered to get there, you didn’t want to get any attention, and so dressing appropriately was your plan. Everything else in your closet would make you look underdressed, and you made the quick decision to pass by a store and grab the first nice dress you could find and then head home.

The clock was ticking, and it didn’t help that you got stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, and that a vehicular accident at the intersection outside your village forced the cab driver to take a longer route to the Arts Center. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the program was over, and Jungkook would probably now be in the midst of engaging with so many important people and you don’t want any of the attention that your arrival might bring.

You finally make it though, and while minutes ago you were stressed and just desperate to make it to the Arts Center, now that you’re here, you’re quite nervous. You’ll face him again after so long, and the fact that happiness would be within reach brings about an unfamiliar feeling. But you also can’t wait to experience it. It’s a kind of joy and contentment you’ve only dreamt about, and you’ll finally know what it’s like.

Exiting the cab, you look around in awe. From this view, you could imagine the sunset framing the main building so beautifully. You enter the lobby and it’s even more spacious than you remember. Perhaps it’s the absence of all the laborers and materials on the floor. Now, it’s just this open space with art pieces placed around. The floor-to-ceiling windows would bring so much light in. It was one of the big changes to the old structure, and with the moonlight shining through, it feels as if there’s a natural spotlight on the art pieces.

You’re enamored by the grandness of it all. Even more by the many people around, perhaps taking their time in exploring all that the Center has to offer. It’s such a massive space that it’s impossible to absorb everything after one go around, and you already can’t wait to take it all in the next time you visit.

It’s tempting to get lost in it but right now, your priority is finding Jungkook, but as you’re about to head to the second floor, Do-hyun’s whisper-yelling of your name catches your attention. She gives you a tight hug and there’s suddenly an air of sentimentality as the old team is together once again. It was just a year ago when you all took on the biggest project together and after all the highs and lows, it’s finally here. And while you missed out on the final weeks of preparations, they assure you that you’re just as much a part of those as they are.

“You had to deal with the last minute changes, though,” you insist. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Only at the beginning,” Chin-sun says. “We were barely involved. We just helped with procurement but Mr. Jeon was the one who worked tirelessly on it. He had just two other people help him construct it and I guess that’s why he spent so much time there. But it turned out beautifully, and you wouldn’t have known it was only an addition.”

“Wha-what is it?” You ask, the curiousity taking a front seat for now.

“It’s—”

“It’s something you need to see for yourself,” a familiar voice says.

You all turn around and bow at the sight of CEO Jeon. He looks at you and smiles, gesturing towards one of the doors. You excuse yourself from the team and follow the older man, walking next to him in silence.

“I was worried you weren’t going to come tonight,” he says. “I think that so was Jungkook.”

“I… I tried to come earlier but there was all this traffic and… I, uh, how did he do?” You ask.

“Great, as always,” CEO Jeon answers. “He had everything under control and managed all the socializing impressively. He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” you smile, recalling the anxiousness that he used to feel at just remembering names and keeping up with people’s energy.

“He’s come a long way in other aspects, too. Smiling, believing in himself, being kinder to himself… it’s great to witness,” the older man continues. “And standing by and caring for someone the way he did with you, that was… that was new, too.”

“I didn’t intend on feeling this way for him, sir,” you say, recalling that the last time you spoke, you weren’t ready to talk about it. “And I tried to suppress it, and that pushed him away but I guess, sometimes we lose people for a reason; we find them again for a reason, too.” It’s a statement that CEO Jeon had told you the last time you talked, and it’s one that stuck with you. “I’m here to find him again.”

“Good. I was hoping you would, so at least I’d know that all this wasn’t in vain,” he chuckles. “And I really do hope you see his heart with this, ___. He takes after me, and I didn’t realize just how much until he came up with this plan.”

You lose him for a bit, suddenly unsure of what he means. CEO Jeon notices, so he gestures towards his right and you follow his lead, and that’s when you see it. Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp at the space before you.

“He’s not always good with words but he tries. And this is how he does it.”

You noted entering the grand library as he spoke. The walls and design were familiar, as you’d gone in here during your last few visits. But this area that you walk into is new. It’s not a large space but it feels like it now. It used to be a section of historical books and archived materials that were put on display, almost like a museum of literary artifacts that a historian had sold off. But it’s nothing like that now.

The glass enclosures have been replaced by shelves and bookcases, all easily accessible and reachable by anyone. The framed walls are no more - instead, there are reading nooks and character murals painted artistically, bringing them to life outside of the books they only lived in. The lights are not blinding; they’re warm and inviting, illuminating a space that makes you want to just sit or even lie in, especially with the large stuffed animals spread across. The chairs aren’t the same, too; there are couches all around, all soft and comfortable, decorated with knitted dolls and colorful pillows.

You walk further, mouth agape as you take in every inch of the space that brings back so many memories from your childhood. This place is new but familiar. It looks nothing but everything like that neighborhood-run library that your mom used to take you to. Towards the back is a little activity area, with a large, leveled table and a row of shelves filled with coloring books and paper dolls.

You feel chills as you realize what this place is supposed to be, and who this was meant for.

You remember the first time you told Jungkook about this. It was after that incident at the restaurant. He took you to a park and told you how the playground was his favorite place, how it made him feel free and safe, how it allowed him to just be himself and imagine doing and being everything he wanted. You shared a piece of your childhood, too, and described that library you frequented, how you felt sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye to it, and that you hadn’t seen a place like that again.

But now you have. That last minute change that he made… It was this.

You turn towards CEO Jeon and try to find the words to say but nothing comes out. You’re overwhelmed by what you see, by the memories they elicit, and by all the emotions overtaking you all at once.

“Jungkook called me one evening and said that he was going to re-do the archive section in the library,” the older man says. “He wasn’t asking for my approval because it was his project, he’d said, but he just wanted to let me know. He made all the decisions and most of the design. He painted the walls and some of the furniture, too. He spent every afternoon here and stayed until the evening. He barely rested. He just… he just wanted this done. It was so important to him.”

“I… I told him about a place like this, that I used to go to,” you manage to find your voice now. “He never saw it but it… it looks like this.”

“Maybe you described it really well,” CEO Jeon smiles. “It’s how he’s always been. Just a few words and then it comes alive in his mind.”

“That’s why this Center is as beautiful as it is,” you hum. “He’s good at that, bringing to life everything that he envisions.”

“It’s his way of saying the things he can’t say, too. It’s something he got from me, I think. I’m not good with words either,” he admits. “So when Byung-hun told me that your mother used to spend her lunch breaks taking you to a library when you were younger, I knew this was Jungkook expressing everything he feels for you.”

“It’s a bit grand, don’t you think?” You say shyly. “Building something for someone is… so personal, so—”

“Sincere,” he finishes for you. “And intimate, I’d say. But my son, he feels a lot. Which is why I think he tries not to, and why he distances himself from others. He felt like he’d lost you, ___, even before he had you and that… messed with him. He needed to do this for you, but I think he also needed to do it for himself. If at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be a part of his life, this would remind him that you were.”

You blink away the tears that you quickly wipe off as you look away. If at the end of the day, he’s no longer a part of your life, this would also remind you that he was. But you don’t want that, because you want him in your life, you want every part of him that he’s willing to show, and you want to hold every bit of that in your arms, care for it, and never let it go.

The time you spent with so little of him in your life made you feel his absence, and that allowed you to recognize the pockets of joy you had with him. It gave you something to look forward to, to connect with, and to treasure. The first step was resigning, and that itself felt like freedom. You get to pursue that connection and deep desire by choosing him this time. Knowing yourself means knowing how your heart heals and loves, and you want him to be at the receiving end of that.

“I… I need to see him,” you say, not wanting him to spend another minute without knowing how you feel.

“You should,” CEO Jeon nods and motions towards the door. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

There’s a soft smile on his face and you mirror it, as if to tell each other that all has been forgiven, that everything has been accepted, that there’s no more blame or burden to carry anymore.

You rush out, wondering where to start looking for Jungkook. Turning to the left, you see Yoongi, who quickly rushes to you.

“What do you think?” He asks, gesturing towards the library where you’d just come from. “Is it close to the one you used to go to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “Did you help him with it?”

“Kinda had no choice,” he chuckles. “We were working on it while everything else was being completed. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially you. I didn’t even know why he wanted to build a children's library all of a sudden when it wasn’t in the plans until that night you told me about your childhood. It clicked then.”

“He was already dealing with so much but he still had time for this?” You say, still in shock that Jungkook pushed through with this despite everything.

“He had a lot to say to you but he didn’t know how to. And I guess working on this was a way for him to deal with losing you,” Yoongi answers. “You mean a lot to him, ___. He was a mess without you.”

You think back at the times you felt that he was quickly replacing you, that he was distancing himself, that he was probably upset because you’d messed up his plans, and that he just wanted to move on from you. All this time, he was working on something that he could leave you with, all because he knew how much it meant for you to have a place like this.

“Now I just have to find him,” you say. “Have you seen him?”

“Not in the past half hour. He’s just been going around but I did tell him I’d let him know if you came. You should call him.”

“I wouldn’t be able to say anything if I did,” you sigh, knowing that it’s probably the same reason why he didn’t call you after not finding you in your apartment yesterday.

There’s too much to say that can’t be said over the phone. You’ll probably be tongue tied once he picks up.

You decide to call Mr. Ri, the possibility of Jungkook having left swimming in your mind after thinking of how long he would’ve been socializing. It’s been hours since the opening; it’s possible that he’s gotten tired from it all.

“___? Everything okay?”

“Do you know where he is?” You ask, desperate now. “Is he still in—”

“I just dropped him off at the office,” the older man answers. “I don’t know why he wanted to be there but I’m on the way back to the Arts Center. Do you want me to pick you up somewhere?”

“I’m here right now and I just saw what he made. I need to see him.”

“You can wait for me and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll find my way there. Thank you.”

You drop the call and start heading towards the exit, with Yoongi on your tails, offering to drive you.

“You’ve done so much already. And you’re needed here,” you say. “It’s okay.”

“True, I have. It sucked witnessing you two constantly going in circles when you both clearly can’t get enough of each other,” he chuckles. “So go, find him. You can both stop being such idiots now.”

“Rude,” you laugh. “But thank you, Yoongi.”

He smiles, and it’s a sight that’s gotten you through some of the toughest days. He tells you again to leave now, and you rush out as you book a cab, slowly getting impatient as you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook already.

You get inside the car and watch the city pass you by. So many nights you’d done this, wondering about your life and where it was headed, hoping that one day you’d find the strength within you to go for what you’ve always wanted, whatever it was. A smile paints your face as you do it again now. One day is today, and with another act of bravery, you’re heading towards that other piece of happiness, and you’re finally claiming it for yourself.

The office isn’t far, and with the traffic having eased despite the hour, you make it to the building in no time.

You’re suddenly nervous once you enter the lobby. You’re used to late nights but it’s different this time. The security personnel assigned tonight still remembers you, and he doesn’t ask questions when you say you want to head to the VP’s floor.

It’s a little nostalgic walking down the hallway, even if you were here just last week. It’s knowing that you’ll be seeing Jungkook at the end of it that makes you emotional, your heart beating fast as the seconds tick by. You quietly make it to his room, and with the door opened, you wonder if he expected you to be here.

You stand at the entrance and see him standing by the window, looking out into the city below. His sleeves are rolled up, and he has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. You spot the bottle on the edge of the table and not far from it, the mess of folders and blueprints piled on the desk.

“Why are you out here celebrating on your own?” You say, your voice soft despite the yearning you’re feeling.

He hears you though, as the swirling of his drink stops and he slowly turns around to look at you. He looks tired, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up. You wish he notices the way yours do, too.

“The Arts Center is beautiful, Jungkook. You should be enjoying it with everyone else.”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” he answers, walking towards his table where he places the glass next to the bottle. “It felt incomplete without you around. You… you were a big part of that.”

“Why did you leave, then? That’s where you said I’d find you.”

“Is that what your mother said?”

“It’s what I heard,” you say. He doesn’t look surprised, and maybe a part of you knew that he knew you were there, but still, he asks.

“Why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”

You start to walk closer and see the sadness in his eyes. It brings you back to this room weeks ago, how those same eyes looked at you in dejection, in guilt. You hate hurting him, and you don’t ever want to do that again.

“I realized that I easily accept it when I’m told that I’m being selfish and that I don’t deserve happiness. But when it comes to someone’s genuine feelings, I cower,” you respond. “Your sincerity scared me and maybe that’s why I doubted it the first time and I’m sorry that I did.”

Your voice starts to shake now as the emotions intensify with every word you say, and with every inch of distance you eliminate.

“I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that I left, that I kept my past from you. I’m sorry that I was so scared about everything, especially about the way I felt, only because it was all so new. It was all so much; wanting you became too much, I didn’t know how to stop. But I…” you blink away the tears, not realizing they’ve been waiting to fall. “I realized I was more scared to lose you. I was foolish to think that I could just move on and forget about what I feel for you. I thought it’s what you wanted to do, too, and—”

He shakes his head, and it’s the most reaction you’ve gotten since you started speaking.

“All I’ve done since that night you left me here was think about you,” he says, now able to say what he’s been meaning to. “I didn’t know how to stop that either. Wanting you was no longer enough and I wanted to be with you but I didn’t think I could, not when I thought you didn’t want me. You left and I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“I knew it’s what I needed,” you admit. “I… I reached a point where if you asked me to stay, I probably would and I didn’t want to. I wanted to know myself outside of all this and I didn’t want you to be the reason why I’d stop myself from doing that, from searching for whatever would make me happy but I realized that it’s you.”

You take another step, your body aching for him as your heart beats faster. “I felt free but it didn’t feel like I thought it would be. I didn’t want to be here but I wanted to be with you. And I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I didn’t find you right away,” he whispers, as if he still carries that guilt with him. “I was so caught up with everything else, with dealing with the fact that I lost you.”

“The library,” you say. “You were caught up creating something for me.”

“I… uh, I didn’t know how to say everything that I wanted to say,” he sighs. “And I’ll probably always struggle with that but… I just thought that as you go about your new life, I could build you a place where you’ll always feel safe and free, and that if I can’t be that person to comfort you, you’ll have a place that can do that. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to forget me. But I also just wanted you to know that I was always going to think about you.”

“Doesn’t it feel a bit grand?” You ask now, inching closer once again as he takes another step forward. “Building a library for someone is a pretty big deal.”

“You would’ve been my biggest what if. I probably deserve something grand to remind me of how stupid I was that I let you go.”

“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?” You teasingly smile. “Because I won’t.”

“No,” he says a little seriously. “I put you through so much, ___. I just… I just want to be someone who would care for you and would make you happy.”

His words are simple but they carry so much. You suppose at one point, that’s all what’s started to matter. All he wants is to be part of that happiness you’ve been searching for. Maybe it’s what’s been missing in his life, too, and all you want now is to be a part of it.

Another tear falls down your cheek, and you appease the worried look on his face by saying that it’s a happy tear.

He softly smiles, wiping it off with his thumb before cupping your face in his hand. He’s gentle as he caresses you, and you learn everyday just how capable he is of giving warmth, that there’s such tenderness within him that he’s unable to fully show.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admits. “So many times that I’ve seen you cry and I’ve just been… so powerless to do anything.”

“Now you aren’t,” you breathe out as you eye his lips, knowing they’re what you need at this moment. “Now you can—”

His proximity stops you, as he bends down and closes the distance. His mouth presses against yours, the hint of alcohol intoxicating you a little but it’s the feel of him that makes your mind hazy. With his hand still cupping your cheek, he pulls you towards him, his tongue merely licking your own when he slides inside as if to tease.

“Do that,” he finishes, pulling away only a little bit to allow you to answer.

“Yes,” you heave, wanting so much more now that you’ve had a taste of him again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

“Good,” he pants, grazing the tip of his nose on yours. “I don’t plan to.”

You’re unable to take a breath before his mouth crashes against yours, but you don’t mind, not when you immediately lose yourself to the way he feels. The kiss is desperate, with his tongue seeking entrance right away and then entangling with yours. Yet it still feels gentle with how he holds you, as his one hand continues to caress your face while the other glides down your side torso, settling on your hip to pull you closer.

Your fingers grip his dress shirt, needing that anchor to ground you as you feel yourself drifting, getting lost in what you’re feeling - pure desire, an insatiable need, a sense of relief that there’s finally nothing holding you back. He angles your head, allowing him to go even deeper, and you let him take control, you let him breathe you in, let his tongue explore your depths before he pulls back and nibbles your lower lip.

But he doesn’t stop just like he said, as he makes his way to your neck. You moan once you feel him lick the shell of your ear, the sound urging him to do more. He finds spots that have you grunting in pleasure, sucking and licking and pressing soft kisses on them, leaving you a pleading mess. You chant his name, grind against him for that friction you badly need, and pull on his shirt, as if wanting that barrier gone.

“Fuck,” he groans, meeting your hips. “Fuck, you sound good.”

Jungkook feels the shiver of your skin, as his mouth slides up and down your neck while he grabs your waist. He loses himself in the sounds of your moans - constant and yearning - just as heavenly as he remembers. You’re pliant, moving your head to give him access, letting him explore whatever’s exposed for him to do as he pleases, to taste whatever you can offer right now.

He pulls you for a kiss once again, and there seems to be more desperation now, as you try to dominate, to taste him, to keep him there. Your hand finds his, guiding it to map your body, to let him know where you want him, to tell him where he can go. He curses under his breath when he feels your breast, fondling it for the brief moment it’s there before you direct it further down. You know exactly what you want and he’ll give it to you.

The front slit of your dress makes it easy, and when his finger grazes your clothed cunt, you let out a sound that rings in his ear, and he wants more of it.

“You like that?” He huffs in your ear. “You want me to touch you like that?”

“Ye—yes,” you mumble, unable to say anything more.

Jungkook hears your desire. He feels it, too, but he teases a little, gliding down the wet patch before slowly pressing on your clit. You jerk a little, briefly pulling away from him so you can take in a long breath. You bite your lip and he knows that you’re holding yourself back.

But he wants more and he can tell that so do you. He doesn’t care where you are right now; all he wants is to taste you, to feel you pulsate against his tongue, to make you feel good and let you know what he can give.

He looks down where his fingers have slipped past your underwear then back at you, the lick of his lips his way of seeking permission. You seem to know what he means, and you nod, granting it to him. He pulls you again for a kiss, much rougher this time, before he pushes you against the desk and lifts you so you could sit on the edge, just like that first time. But like you said, you won’t stop him anymore. And he truly doesn’t have an intention to.

His mouth moves down actively, kissing every clothed and exposed part of you it passes while slowly lifting up your dress. He kneels on the floor and spreads your legs open, aching to taste even more of you. But he glances up and sees the anticipation on your face, his mind hypnotized even with just this view alone.

Holding your gaze, he teases, with his tongue merely grazing your throbbing cunt.

You tense up but it’s what gets you pleading.

“Please,” you whimper, the sight of him from below leaving you in a daze. “Jung—want—plea—I—”

You’re unable to form proper words so he finally gives in, pulling your underwear to the side. He grunts, as the sight of your wet lips has his dick getting even harder. Your desire matches his, and all he wants is to fulfill your need.

With the barrier gone, he presses his tongue flatly over your clit, warming it up first before he starts moving around. He alternates fervent licks on it with slow movements everywhere else - on your lips, on the sides of your thighs, and inside your hole. It’s messy and absolutely mind numbing, as your scent and and the way you taste divine have him burying himself even deeper into you, losing himself even more when he feels your hand in his hair, pushing him towards you as if you don’t want him to go anywhere. And he wouldn’t mind. He’d live here if he could.

You start to give in, your legs slowly closing on him but he pushes them apart, keeping them open so he could do more. With his movements, he pulls you closer to the edge - of the table, of your orgasm - and he buries his face there again, licking and sucking and moaning like a man starved.

The sounds you make drive him crazy, and that's with you still holding back. You’re still in his office, doing something you both definitely shouldn’t, and he supposes you don’t want your obscene sounds to echo throughout the floor despite it being empty. He can’t wait to hear you without anything stopping you.

You start to shake and that’s how he knows you’re close. He feels your uneven breathing, hears your broken chants of his name, and sees your grip on the table getting tighter. He wants to take you there, and with one final nip of your clit, you crash, the low, long-winded sound satisfying his need to pleasure you.

You try to catch your breath while he laps up your juices. You’re still sensitive, as your legs jerk with every movement of his. He takes a peak and sees your half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, but you eventually return to your senses and meet his gaze. You’ve had enough, it seems, as you pull him up and meet his lips.

Jungkook tastes of you, and you kiss him languidly, still out of breath and definitely in a daze. You want more of him, though; you want to bury yourself in him and elicit hypnotizing sounds that’ll have him chant your name, too, so you start to palm his hard length in return. But he goes soft on you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before he cups your cheeks again while he returns your kisses.

“This feels quite familiar,” you hum against his lips.

“Really? I don’t remember you pushing my head between your thighs the last time,” he teases.

“Oh, shush,” you frown, quickly realizing exactly what you’d done. “I can’t believe I had you eat me out on your desk. In your office. On a work night, too. And while you have an event going on. Your father will be so angry.”

“Good thing he won’t know,” Jungkook shrugs, clearly unbothered.

But you aren’t, so you pout at him. “What was I thinking?”

“Maybe you missed me too much, and I can’t blame you, since you know, I did, too,” he reasons, his shy smile turning cheeky in a second. “Or maybe you wanted to leave me with a gift or something,” he smirks.

“True. When you’re stressed at work you can just remember what you did to me here and then you’ll feel better, I guess.”

“Actually, that’ll probably frustrate me,” he chuckles, pulling you closer again and wrapping his arms around you. “Thinking about how good you sound and how amazing you taste without you around… Yeah, I’d be angry.”

His praise flusters you, and you briefly turn away. But he assures you again that his father won’t know, and that you’re in the clear despite the indecency you both committed.

“And it doesn’t matter,” he continues. “That is worth whatever trouble I’ll be in, if it happens. I… I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted you right away.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks again, and you giggle and bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting, the way he giggles back but hugs you tighter. He smells just as you remember, and you think that this is how you want your days to go from now on - flushed against his chest, cradled in his arms, with his soft lips giving you shivers as he kisses your forehead.

It’s just your joint breaths that you hear now, and you turn to him, your soft smile making his heart skip a beat, and he knows that this is how he wants his days to go from now on - safe in your embrace, with your soft lips tracing his jaw and leaving teasing pecks on his cheeks. He captures them in his, basking in the taste of you, and it’s not long after when the kiss intensifies, leaving him wanting more again.

But just as you return his desire, it’s at that moment when the phone rings, catching both of you off guard and in surprise. He appeases you, as your eyes look at him in worry. He picks up the call, and he hums in confirmation before putting the phone down.

“The building is scheduled for sanitation in half an hour,” he says. “We have to go.”

“Oh right. I remember putting that in our calendars,” you hum, getting off the table and feeling the dampness of your underwear.

You fix your dress, trying to make it less uncomfortable. You turn to him who looks at you shyly.

“Can I take you home with me?” He asks. “Maybe we could, uh, continue this and you know, make up for the time we spent apart?”

“Yes,” you respond, feeling your heart race at the possibilities of tonight. “I’d like that.”

He nods, unable to control his own smile. He motions towards the door and you walk out side-by-side, knowing enough that there are security cameras around. There’s at least that unspoken agreement that neither of you want the attention that could come from having this exposed, whatever this is. But you suppose you have time to figure it out. You’ve both expressed enough that you want each other; you’ll just have to talk about how to move forward and make up for all that’s happened.

It’s cheeky glances from the elevator down to the car. But once he drives out of the building, he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. He smiles when you tighten your hold, as if to say that you don’t want to let go of him, too.

You explain that you woke up late and had to buy a dress that’s why you didn’t get to him earlier. You share how you met the team and then his father, and the anticipation you felt on the way to the office to see him.

Jungkook narrates how his day went, saying that the interview and press conference were successful, and that he received so much praise from the artists for how the Arts Center turned out. You compliment him, too, saying how everything looks grand but that each individual space feels intimate, personal, and that you can’t wait to explore it further.

The conversation is a good distraction, as the moment from earlier still has you reeling internally. His taste is addictive, and there’s just so much more of him you want to see, to feel, to immerse yourself in. He seems a bit impatient, too. He’s driving close to the speed limit, perhaps wanting to get to his place as soon as he can to continue what you both started. With everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t mind doing it all night.

You finally make it to his building, and he constantly pulls you close as you make your way up, with his hand snaking around your waist while you smile at him. But when he opens his door and you enter his penthouse, he keeps his distance, letting you walk through his hallway and into his kitchen as he looks on.

He walks slowly towards you and his heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s got you alone now, and that there’s no limit to what both of you could do. But though he wants to just take you in his arms, feel you against him again, and kiss you until you both run out of air, he decides to savor this first - the sight of you back in his apartment.

It’s been so long. And with you looking as beautiful as you do in your pink dress, he wants to ingrain this image of you in his mind - happy and content, with a tender smile that’s already healing the parts of him that once hurt.

“Your place looks the same as the last time I was here,” you say, looking around.

“Well, I haven’t really been spending time here,” he shrugs. “I was too busy being an idiot and making this children’s library for this girl that I’m really, really into to make up for it. And well, she’s here with me now. I feel like this place is going to start feeling like home.”

“Plants would help. And maybe some personal photos,” you tease, but you reach out your hand that he takes and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and grazing your nose against his. “But I’m also here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I just happen to really, really be into you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a sound you once said you want to hear all the time. You think from now on, you will.

“Good. I’d like to keep you for as long as I can.”

His eyes turn serious and it makes you feel hot all over. It’s hard not to use his playboy lifestyle as a basis for how he’d be, and you can’t help but think just how good he’s going to make you feel. There’s always been so much tension with him that in hindsight, you’ve always tried to quell or overlook, but there’s no need for that anymore. You’ll let your desire take over, release all that lust and yearning until he knows just how much you want him in ways words could never express.

But just as he closes the distance between you, the doorbell rings, and his groan of frustration makes you laugh. It’s as if the universe is edging both of you with these distractions.

Jungkook looks at you in apology and agony. “That might be Mr. Ri. Or Lucas,” he says, remembering that they’d said that they’ll drop off some of the gifts he received in celebration of today. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll probably enter on their own, since he’s given them permission to.

So he lets you go and heads towards the door while you scurry to the left towards the hallway.

You doubt whoever it is would come all the way inside so you don’t really attempt to hide, but you do lean by the wall and listen in. You’re appeased to know it’s Mr. Ri, as you see him enter with several gifts and packages.

“These are from the artists and the Board. There are art pieces in the cart outside so just bring them in,” he instructs, oblivious to you standing not far away. “They gave you lots of alcohol, too. I thought to bring them here already for whatever reason you might need them.”

The older man chuckles and finally looks up and sees you.

“And I assume that reason is to celebrate,” he smiles now, and you don’t miss the smug look on his face that makes you feel flustered. “I was just gonna say that ___ was looking for you,” he turns to Jungkook. “Looks like she’s found you.”

“She… she did,” Jungkook smiles back.

“Good. It’s about time you kids made up,” he teasingly rolls his eyes. Heavens know how much he had to deal with, with you and Jungkook being such hard-headed idiots.

“We were in the middle of it but then we got disrupted,” Jungkook frowns, to the amusement of the older man.

“Oh, I wonder who did that,” Mr. Ri teases. “I better get going then.”

He sets aside the boxes and turns to both of you.

“But before I leave, I just… I just want to congratulate you, Jungkook. The Arts Center is a beautiful piece of artwork. And that… that last-minute thing you did… I’m telling you now that it drove your father crazy. But he… he told me how proud he is of you,” he continues, his look softening as he recalls their recent conversations, including the one just before he drove here. “To do all that for someone you care about, that takes a lot of heart. I think that you, finding it and using it is what he’s happiest about.”

His words are followed by Jungkook’s nod, perhaps in appreciation, and silence, as you’re unsure what else could be said after that. Mr. Ri excuses himself after bringing in the last set of gifts and there’s still that soft smile on his face before he leaves.

It’s happening, he thinks, and despite all the time it took for you and Jungkook to get here, he supposes it was the only way. It would’ve been easier if he or even Yoongi or Hoseok went ahead and spoke to both of you, perhaps to say it was all a misunderstanding or that there was nothing to be afraid of, not when you both undeniably felt the same way.

But he also knew that you both had to come to that realization on your own, that life without each other isn’t something neither of you wanted. You also had to make that decision for yourselves - to be vulnerable, to be brave, to take risks, and to find out that it would all be worth it if you’re just honest about how you feel. It seems you’ve both figured it out now, and he can finally feel at ease that two of the most important people in his life can now take care of each other, and that the love he gave helped both of you to get here.

Jungkook leads him out the door then returns to you, and as he walks to where you are, you’re finally able to appreciate how he looks. It’s just like the other times when he had an event to go to - hair slicked back, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt accentuating his toned chest, and the fit of his trousers showing off the rest of his figure. You eye him up and down and he smirks at you in response.

“So… you exposed yourself, Mr. Jeon,” you say, pulling the neck of his tie to bring him closer to you. “Who taught you how to use your heart like that?”

“Who knew I even had one in the first place?”

“I did.”

“Not at the start though,” he says, with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“It was there, you were just hiding it. But I saw it. And I got used to it. Then I couldn’t get enough of it, of you,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And now I just… I want more of it, Jungkook. I want all of you.”

Having you be so bold about what you want does something to him. It already got him weak in the knees when you directed his hand where you wanted it earlier and when you looked at him to grant permission about having a taste of you. Hearing you say you want all of him causes his mind to short circuit, but he recovers quickly, as he nods and releases a breath before cupping your face in his hands then crashing his mouth into yours again.

It’s sloppier this time, as you both try to take in as much of each other as you can. Your tongues battle for dominance, you nibble and lick each other’s lips, and you moan with every breath as he’s got you caged against the wall, your hands gripping on his shirt to pull him even closer.

You feel Jungkook’s length hardening as he’s flushed against you, and you grind against him, needing that friction badly. He meets your hips and releases your face from his hold, supporting your back that now arches as you chase him, as he finds purchase on your neck, licking and sucking to elicit the most obscene sounds from you. He kneads your ass while you moan his name and plead for more, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much pleasure with just this, and you can’t wait for what comes after.

“Please,” you beg, as you feel your cunt throb in pain.

Jungkook doesn’t need you to say anything else, as he has the same desire to feel your body. There’s so much he wants to do to you, so much more he wants to touch and feel. He wants to know how else you sound like, what makes you lose your breath, what makes you quiver and shake. He wants to know how else his mouth could make you come and how his fingers can drive you wild. He wants to know how your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, how much of him you can take, and how it’s like to be buried deep inside your warm walls as your essence coats him.

He wants you right now, so he heads towards the closest room, guiding you backwards as he unzips your dress and removes your bra. His hands immediately map your bare body, feeling the shiver in your skin with every movement. You whimper when he fondles your breast, and the thought of you being sensitive to his touch makes him even harder.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he guides you to lie down. He trails downward, nibbling as he goes and memorizing your body this way. His mouth reaches your waist, and from here, he finds himself intoxicated from your scent. He slowly removes your soaked underwear and the sight of your went cunt makes him throb in pain.

You’re so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He can’t believe he waited so long to have you like this.

He thumbs your clit, and your continuous moans and calls of his name make him give in. He stands up and smirks at you and, taking your hand, he replaces his fingers with yours, his eyes ordering you to touch yourself.

You follow, and though it doesn’t feel as good as how he does it, the pleasure hits differently when you watch him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. All those months of doing your morning routine comes back to you - now you get to see all that’s underneath the clothes you prepare, and when he pulls down his trousers, your mouth drops the same time it does. He’s thick and veiny, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you.

His eyes are on your sopping cunt while yours are on his fingers as they stroke his length, getting himself ready for you. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom, and while there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment, you don’t mind. It’s something you’ll eventually talk about. Right now, you just want him inside of you and you call out for him another time, prompting him to smirk once again and walk towards you.

He replaces your hand with his fingers this time, and when he returns to touching you, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, lowering himself for a searing kiss.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips.

You lose it, as if you hadn’t lost yourself already, but his deep voice and the way he grunts against your skin do something to you. You feel his cock not long after, and no amount of yearning for him could prepare you for how good he feels. He fills you up just right, and the gradual way he enters you while his eyes bore into yours has your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mouths as he goes deeper. “Fuck, baby, you feel so, so good.”

He hits the edge and he settles for a while, letting you get used to the feel of him, but when you start to grind against him, he decides to do the same.

He moves his hips, pushing then pulling out then pushing harder. He raises himself and intently watches your face distort in pleasure - your breath hitching, your lips parting, your eyes half-lidded as you moan his name, as if it’s the only word you’ll remember after all this. He starts to increase the pace, loving the way your breasts bounce in response. Then he slows down, only so he could capture one of them in his mouth to suck and the other, in his hand to touch.

The feeling of ecstasy overtakes you. He doesn’t go rough all the way, as you initially expected he would. Instead, he paces himself, going fast for a period of time and then slowing down to let both of you bask in the feel of each other. He doesn’t seem to want either of you to come right away, you can tell, by the way he moves and the way he looks at you - with a kind of longing and desire that feels so intimate.

He gets back on his knees after and spreads your legs, giving him more space to pound into you, and with his hands gripping your hips, he pulls it towards him to meet his. You feel him deeper inside, and it has you holding onto your breasts, pleasuring yourself there, too, as he starts fondling your clit once again.

You’re feeling everything everywhere, and your mind starts to go hazy when he lifts your leg and places it over his shoulder, allowing him to enter you from an angle that has you mewling in intense pleasure. You feel your eyes rolling out, but somehow they land on him, and the way his head tilts back while he grunts in pleasure as he caresses your thigh is a sight that you want to keep seeing. That image of his clenched jaw and strained neck will be ingrained in your mind from now on.

You continue with this pace for a while until he lowers himself and kisses you, hard and deep the same way he thrusts into your hole. With his chest flushed against yours, his mouth sucking and licking your neck, and his hand flicking your pert nipples, you come, the deep inhale and the exhale of moans echoing inside the bedroom.

Jungkook feels your essence despite the barrier, and it’s a kind of euphoria that pushes him to reach his peak. He hovers over you again, pinning your hands to your side for that anchor he needs. He meets your tongue with his, and then he pounds hard, wanting that high as you come down from yours. But you don’t hold back, as you meet his hips and curse and tell him how good he feels

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you seethe. “You fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck, yes. Keep going, please baby. Keep going.”

Your words push him over the edge, and he crashes before he knows it. He grunts as he catches a breath, a way to express the intense pleasure he just experienced. But he sees you still panting. You may have already come but another one won’t hurt, so he nibbles on your breasts again, knowing it won’t take long. You’re already close, and with a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, he feels you quiver again.

“Come for me again, baby,” he mumbles. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds again.”

It doesn’t take long. There’s a tone of your moan that lets him know you’ve reached your peak, and he keeps that in mind for everyday that he plans on doing this to you.

You catch your breath, feeling as if you’re in a daze with what you just experienced. As you come down again, you meet his eyes. They were intense and lustful earlier but they’re soft now, just as his smile is. There’s contentment on his face and adoration. He kisses your lips, and that’s soft, too, before he turns to your side and lies on his back.

Jungkook feels the exhilaration from that ride with you, and he definitely wants to do it again. But he knows he’ll have to recover. He turns to you and thinks that you’ll need some time, too, but he can’t help himself. He presses soft kisses on your torso, up until he reaches your cheek, and that causes you to smile.

He finally stands up and tells you he’ll clean up, and you nod, somehow needing a moment alone to wrap your mind around what just happened.

It’s different, you think, when sex is with someone you actually feel really strongly for. All the ones before don’t compare. Sure, you were attracted to the men you dated, but they never made you feel anything close to this. Perhaps it’s Jungkook, but maybe it’s also you - for the first time, you’re giving more than just your time and your energy. For the first time, you’re giving your heart, too. All of it.

The thought makes you giddy. It also makes you shy because it all feels new. And it suddenly makes you hyper aware of where you are.

You look around. This is a new room. Other than Jungkook’s bedroom, you’ve only been to his study; this door was always closed and you never had a reason to see what’s behind it. You know he doesn’t really have people over but you assume an extra bedroom is always good to have.

You start to feel cold without Jungkook’s warmth, so you shift on the end and pull the covers, burying yourself under it. You don’t remember where your dress is, and you’re suddenly too shy to just head out the room and get it. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits the bathroom with his boxers on, and even that has you feeling all kinds of things.

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you respond.

He looks around and spots his dress shirt on the foot of the bed. He takes it and pulls away the blanket so he can make you wear it. He buttons it and fixes your hair, parting the damp strands and tucking them behind your ear. He helps you stand then you scurry towards the bathroom to clean yourself up.

You don’t take long as you don’t want to make him wait, and when you open the door, you see him with his trousers back on, fixing the bed. On top of it are your folded dress and underwear. Between that and the shirt you’re wearing, something inside you stirs as you’re reminded again of how thoughtful Jungkook is. You like him for so many reasons, and now that you get to be with him like this, you’ll get to know him even more.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him as he moves about until he starts walking towards you.

“I’ll get your clothes dry cleaned. Is that okay?”

You nod, giddy again and unable to speak.

“I was also, uh, thinking. Do you want to spend the night with me? And maybe the one after, too?” He asks.

“I’d like that,” you smile.

“Good,” he smiles back, kissing you deeply. “I was really hoping we get to do more of that.”

You laugh in response even if deep inside, you’re screaming in excitement. You’re still overwhelmed by all this, but you know that spending the evening and then waking up next to him will let you ease into this new life that you have.

He laughs, too, when your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten anything since you left your mother’s house, and that was almost 12 hours ago.

“I actually don’t have anything in my fridge so let’s just order out.”

You nod, and shortly after, you find yourself sitting on the couch with him, your legs laying over his lap while his fingers caress your thigh. He’s got his arm around you and you sit there, just talking, while you wait for your dinner to arrive.

You stay on the dining table when it does, and you remain there after you’ve both wiped out all the food. You both clean up, liking the domesticity that feels more real now, even more when he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

“I don’t have any makeup remover or anything like that,” he says from inside his bathroom. “Just cleanser. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, that should be fine,” you say, following him inside.

He places some skincare items on the counter and says that he’ll buy your brand this weekend. He grabs a towel and places it on the stool next to the shower before he turns to you.

There’s a look of desire in your eyes, and though he’d initially thought that maybe you’d want to wash up on your own, the way you’re biting your lips makes him think that maybe you don’t.

He walks towards you and, with his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt you have on, he looks at you in question as a way to seek permission. You nod, and it’s his confirmation. There’s something about you speaking to him with your eyes that has him nervous, but every approval you give stirs something in him. There’s your shyness but there’s also that desire to have him close.

He undoes the shirt, and though he’s already seen your bare body earlier, it still takes his breath away, as if it’s the first time he’s being graced with this, only because he’s been craving it for weeks.

Not much is said when he undresses after you, but you don’t really need words. Right as he turns on the warm shower, your lips are already on his. It’s sensual this time, as you both seem to want to savor this now that you have more time to spare. There’s still so much he wants to know and to feel, and he supposes there’ll be more days to learn all that.

But then again, that could also be today, as you kneel on the floor and take his hardening dick in your mouth. You’re just as heavenly as he imagined, even more when you let him come on your chest and he’s dazed with how turned on you look. He finishes you off with you caged against the wall, your breasts in his mouth and his fingers inside your hole. It’s more languid kisses once you decide to actually take a shower, and going slow as you caress each other’s bodies is another feeling that he wants to keep having.

He gives you one of his shirts to wear before you both head to his bed. It’s past midnight and the day has started to catch up to him. He’s been tired since midday, and he would’ve crashed on his couch after finishing a bottle of whiskey if you hadn’t come.

But you did, and the past few hours have been nothing short of amazing, as if it’s a dream he doesn’t believe is really happening. You lay next to his side, looking warm and comfortable with the softest smile on your face, a contrast to how you looked when you took him so deep in your mouth and moaned curses while you pulled on his hair as you came on his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him.

“A lot of things. Also nothing,” he says. “So much has happened today and I just… I just wanna sleep but I also want to stay awake with you a bit longer.”

“We’ll have more time together though,” you assure him. “We can talk about them tomorrow.”

He hums, knowing that his weekends from now on will no longer be boring like they used to be.

“What about you, what are you thinking about?”

“That your bed is so soft and your pillows smell so nice,” you respond, earning you a laugh. “Better than the one earlier. Although come to think of it, I didn’t even know you had a guest room.”

“It’s, well, uh… I wouldn’t really call it a guest room. I don’t really make people sleep there. Unless, they, uh, stay the night even if I told them not to.”

With his embarrassed face, the thought dawns on you.

“You have a room specifically for your hookups?” You gasp. “You fucked me in your hookup room!”

You don’t seem angry but still, he supposes it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.

“That… that was the closest room with something to lie on and I just wanted you so badly,” he explains, truly looking like he feels bad about it. “I only have that because I don’t let people in my room and well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t like people being inside my space but you… I want you here. I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with apologetic eyes and you suddenly feel bad for reacting the way you did. It’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t ideal when you look back on it but then again, he fucked you so good, it doesn’t really matter. It also doesn’t matter where he does it. But maybe claiming other parts of his penthouse isn’t so bad.

“It’s okay, you made up for it,” you say, kissing his pouty lips to let him know it’s fine.

There’s really nothing you can complain about, not when you’re next to him and feeling the safety and warmth of being by his side. There’s that comfort of being able to say and do what you want to, including expressing your desire without holding back anymore. That itself feels like freedom, and you get to live that out with him.

“We should probably skip that room for next time,” you add. “I mean, you have a nice bathtub and a spacious closet and a large couch and a wide dining table.., you have a study, a gym…” you smirk, something he does, too. “We have so many options.”

“We do,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you now. “We also have my bed, in case you forgot.”

“I was just about to say,” you giggle, sitting up and motioning for him to lie on his back. His smile is replaced with a lustful look once you start grinding against his clothed dick. “So, uhm, shall we?”

He grabs your hips and aids your movements, immediately feeling pleasure that he fortunately isn’t too tired to build on. He sits up and catches your lips in his.

“I can do this all night,” he whispers.

And with languid kisses and curious hands mapping each other’s bodies, you feel the beginnings of learning what your heart could do. Right now, it’s racing, as it feels the desire to be one with him, to share in intimacy and vulnerability as you bare parts of yourself to him with no reservations.

You know that starting today, there’ll be more that your heart will learn to do, like understand and forgive. One day, it will heal. And as it soars and finds a home in Jungkook’s arms, you know that one day, it will learn how to love, too.

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versupital · 5 months ago

Text

2 cocky!

getoxreaderxgojo!

you recently fucked your roommate’s best friend behind his back. you think he’s going to hate you, but the two of them are actually excited to finally have you at the center of their web.

CONTENT: gojo x geto, gojo x reader, geto x reader, switch!geto, switch!reader, top!gojo, sex under the influence, bondage, tad of cuckolding, overstimulation, unprotected, creampie, afab!reader, vaginal and anal WHOOPS, kinda dacryphilia

word count. 🫣 idk i wrote it in a moment of being feral.

lowercase intended - just trying it to see how i feel about the aesthetic.

✯ song inspo: best friend ft. trey songz

“you should see her tears, satoru,” suguru grunts from above, his long cock burying itself in your stomach with each stroke, his balls clapping into your ass.

“bet she looks s’pretty cryin’ for us,” satoru grunts from below, mercilessly pounding into your other hole, his grip on the pretty ropes digging into your skin growing harsher with each pump.

now… how did you end up here? let’s roll the tape.

your back falls against the cushiony plush blanket of the hotel bed. thick hands hold you by the waist, nails locked in to prevent you from squirming away.

your lips are quickly attached to your roommate’s again, desperate and impatient. that wedding reception had lasted an eternity.

“f-fuck, suguru,” you chime out, parting your legs to allow him to glide between them. you’re so drunk, your party dress hiked up your sides, and your hair has fallen from its dainty clips and ribbons.

“need your dress off,” suguru responds with a coo, releasing your hips and finding the hem of the silky material. “but it looks too expensive to rip off of you the way i really want to.”

“who cares about taking it off,” you gasp, back flying off of the bed.

suguru grins, you don’t have to tell him twice.

you’d barely made it home from the wedding, where you’d been a bridesmaid, and he a groomsman. you’d been staring at suguru in his delicious little suit all night from across the stage where the bride and groom had gotten married, cunt in overdrive.

you’d started downing liquor to distract yourself, but every shot made the room a little more fuzzy around the edges, while sharpening suguru, as you zeroed in on him and the fat bulge that’d appeared in his suit pants.

by the time the two of you had made it back to the hotel, you were like rabid animals, clawing at each other in the elevator, leaving rough kisses on each other’s neck.

you grip him by his tie and pull it loose, beginning to unbutton his messy white shirt.

“oh, can’t believe i made it through that dreadfully long reception,” he grunts, hovering over you with his lips parted as he watches you work down his buttons. “wanted you bent over the dinner table.”

“we could’ve arranged that,” you coo, sitting up as suguru backs off of the bed and stands straight on the floor.

your hands have successfully finished popping his buttons but now they’re focused on his belt.

he shrugs off his blazer and discards it to a random corner of the room, looking down at you as you slide the leather garment out of his belt loops.

you feel a twinge of guilt, as this is the first time you’d been with suguru since you’d been filling yourself with his best friend, satoru. you’re thinking of your week long escapade with him now, cunt pulsing rapidly at the memory.

you hadn’t meant for it to happen, honest. suguru had been out of town and satoru was checking on you - per suguru’s request. one movie night later and you were pouncing on his cock, telling him how scared the movie made you, how his fat dick made you feel better.

you knew you were grimey for it, that suguru would probably not speak to you for a while if he found out. but right now, he doesn’t know, and he’s about to promptly fill you with dick.

“need you so bad,” suguru whines. “been too long, baby.”

you let out a deep sigh and unbutton his pants before shoving them down carelessly. “look at you, my needy little boy.”

suguru lets out a noise. “mhmm…”

“s’okay, gonna take care of you i promise,” you whisper, running your hand along his clothed bulge. he jerks in place and stares down at you.

“don’t tease,” he pouts. “i’ve already been waiting all night.”

you grin up at him, sliding your fingers down the side of his bulge, stroking him through his boxers. “but baby boy, that’s no fun.”

“hngh - i-i’ll do whatever y’want, please,” suguru begs, and you think it impossible to deny him when he’s so vulnerable like this.

“anything?” you question. “on your knees, sugu.”

suguru obeys immediately. you scoot your hips to the edge of the bed and spread your legs in front of him.

“yes baby,” he purrs, sliding his hands down the soft skin of your thighs before resting them right on your knees. “you want my mouth?”

“mhmm,” you huff, reaching for the waistband of your panties, frantically getting them off. “don’t make me ask twice.”

the needy boy wants nothing more than to make you feel good. he leans forward, eyes dilated with lust as he stares at your cunt that is wet for both him and his friend, and he has no clue. you try to put the images of satoru’s head fallen back, his lips parted, and his dripping cock out of your mind.

you momentarily forget when suguru’s wet tongue lands on your clit, lathering it sloppily with spit as his lips purse and he sucks the nerve ending.

you writhe immediately, hands desperately clinging to his roots. his own fingers are threatening to break open the skin of your thighs as he devours you, making eye contact to confirm he’s doing a good job.

“o-oh, satoru,” you moan softly, but unfortunately not soft enough for suguru not to hear.

his mouth freezes immediately and you feel yourself tense above him.

he pulls his face from you, “who?”

“woah, that was weird,” you say, cracking a nervous laugh. “your names are similiar, don’t know how i made that mistake. i’m sorry-“

“you’re sorry?” suguru releases your thighs and stands straight, his submission leaving the room, his anger clear on his face. “you were thinking about him, weren’t you? you don’t just make that kind of slip up. you never have and we’ve been doing this for a while, y/n.”

“sugu,” you chirp desperately, reaching out to him and feeling your stomach lurch when he recoils. “y-you know i didn’t mean to…”

he shakes his head. “satoru, what do you think i ought to do to her now?”

you blink, unsure you heard him correctly. he glances towards the closed wooden closet with little ridges in it. ridges that would easily allow someone on the other side to look into the room.

you stare in horror as the door opens and satoru steps out of it, the bottom half of his outfit discarded, his hand sliding over his erect cock.

“mm, dunno, but i wanna hear her moan for me again,” he lets out a wet breath as he stares at you, sprawled over the bed with your panties off and legs parted.

“what is this?” you ask, voice quivering. “you were watching us?”

“that’s right,” satoru hums, still stroking himself. “sick, isn’t it? but not any sicker than fucking two best friends, is it, y/n?”

you swallow thickly and stare between the two of them. you slowly close your legs and sit up. this has to be some kind of twisted fantasy, you think. the alcohol is clearly overcoming you.

“she wants us both, look at her.” suguru licks his lips as he eyes you. the two of them stare like owls as you stand and walk over to them, dress falling to cover your bare lower half.

you blink between them both, and to your surprise they each take one hand and pull you closer to them. now you’re surrounded, nearly sandwiched as they close in on you.

“didn’t think we’d find out, hm?” satoru coos, his hand leaving his cock and coming to slide over your shoulder, inciting a shiver from you. “we’ve all been hooking up with each other, you’re just the last one to know.”

your eyes widen. “you two…?”

“right,” suguru says, each of his hands creeping around your waist and satoru’s. “so, now that the cat’s out of the bag, don’t y’wanna know what we’re like together?”

your pussy is throbbing. you’re trying to avoid staring directly at satoru’s cock, but the way it’s twitching wantingly has your mouth nearly watering - but you’re also missing suguru’s wet lips attached to your cunt. the thought of both together…

“she’s thinking about it,” satoru cocks his head to the side, leaning in to drag his lips over your ear and down your neck. “don’t y’wanna make us feel good, princess?”

you shudder under his touch. his hand has slyly started pulling on the strap of your dress, sliding it down your arm. suguru’s leaning in closer now too, his breath tickling your cheek, his fingers still entangled in your dress.

your eyes flutter closed, imagining yourself bent over between them, your cunt full of cock as well as your mouth. it nearly makes you whimper aloud.

instead of responding, you turn your head and connect your lips to suguru’s; bringing a hand down to satoru’s cock and yanking him by the length.

he moans against your neck before you feel him smile, followed by a deep chuckle in your ear.

“need to hear you say it,” satoru says.

“y-yes,” you whisper desperately. “i wanna.”

“can’t wait to have you both screaming f’me,” satoru grits against your neck.

you and suguru both moan into each other’s mouths, your hand pumping satoru, slicking your fist up with his ample amount of needy precum. he’s nipping your neck with his teeth, his hands greedily continuing to rip off your dress, material shredding and falling to the floor.

you part from suguru and stare at him as you pant, while satoru breaks away from you and then pushes you towards the bed.

you land on your back, now fully naked, and you bite your lip while staring up at the two of them expectantly. satoru stands between your legs, a hand coming up as he takes his long fingers between your folds.

he reaches for suguru, who comes to stand next to him. suguru reaches for satoru’s cock and satoru does the same. all the while they pump each other, satoru’s other hand is expertly flicking rhythmic circles over your aching clit in time.

you stare at the way satoru and suguru play with each other, feeling a bit out of your comfort zone and a bit ashamed, but so incredibly aroused when you remember that they both want to fuck you. you can hardly find time to focus on that when satoru’s destroying your nerve ending with his delicate rubs.

he stares down at you while his arms flex from pleasuring the both of you.

“all warmed up, baby?” he questions, noting how your knees are starting to wobble in the air.

you nod, but it’s a mistake. he removes his hands and walks to the other side of the hotel room, where there’s a black bag on the floor.

you lay there, wantingly, and suguru comes to lean over you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“you look a little nervous,” he whispers, and your face starts to grow warm. “remember our safe words are red, yellow, and green. you know what each one stands for, right?”

you bite your lip, nodding in understanding.

“so if you start to change your mind,” suguru says assuringly, “you say what?”

“red,” you answer.

“good girl,” he winks at you, before standing back tall and turning to satoru, who has returned with skinny tan ropes dangling from his hands.

“how do you feel about me binding your arms, princess?” satoru questions. “i know this is a lot to take in-”

“no!” you shriek, still so tipsy but now also cockdrunk and needy. “n-no, w-want you both. please. tie me up.”

satoru bites his lips and suguru steps out of the way. “such a good fucking girl, god. how did we manage to pick the perfect one, suguru?”

suguru hums in approval, his hands running wild over his own body as he watches satoru flip you over - roughly.

he pulls you into a standing position with your back against his chest, and suguru comes to be in front of you, where he grabs your red and pouty face while satoru is yanking your wrists behind your back.

“gonna look so pretty for us,” he coos, leaning forward to plant his slobbery lips on yours, and you take him into your mouth instantly - tongues dancing together so familiarly, all the while ropes begin to dig into your chest and stomach, as satoru expertly presses knots into your skin, your arms completely bound.

suguru keeps his mouth on yours, distracting you, nicking your bottom lip with his teeth and reverberating his moans down your throat.

and that’s pretty much how you found yourself pressed between the two of them like the cream in an oreo.

but oh, the positions they’d put you in before this.

you, on the edge of the bed, bent over while suguru holds onto your ropes like reigns on a horse. he fucks into your juicy cunt, awful wet noises filling the air with each pump of his desperate hips.

suguru’s moaning louder than anyone because, each time he pulls out of you, he takes more of satoru’s length. satoru stands stagnant while suguru fucks himself and fills you to your brim.

you’re bent over like a ragdoll, arms useless, drool pooling out of your swollen lips.

the next position had involved satoru getting his chance to slide into you. after quickly cleaning himself off, he was ready to fuck your poor cunt to the point of swelling. all the while, you lay with your head dangling off of the bed so that suguru can fuck your gummy throat.

his hands are on your chest, occasionally coming down to crack a hit across your poor nipples. if you were satoru, you’d be able to see the bulge filling your throat each time suguru thrusts into it. spit falls down your cheeks in a combination of your mascara stained tears, saliva bubbling around the base of suguru’s cock as you take every inch of him like a good girl.

meanwhile, satoru’s cock is stretching you much harder than suguru’s. suguru is longer, but satoru is girthier. his cock is pressing against your unfortunate elastic walls, forcing them to mold to the shape of his wet cock.

“oh, god, y/n,” satoru whimpers pathetically, “missed your pretty pussy, missed how desperate she feels clenching around me.”

suguru moans from above, “mm, y’should feel her throat. f-fuck.”

“look at my babies,” satoru chimes. “making him feel so good, y/n.”

it’s all so much, but you want to please them, and they want the same for you. they occasionally pause to check in.

“how y’feel, baby?” suguru chirps, sliding his soaked cock from your mouth.

“so green,” you breathe, a harsh rasp in your voice from having your vocal cords obliterated.

“think she needs a second,” satoru coos, pulling out of you as well, gripping you by your ropes to sit you up.

your cheeks are bright and warm, wet and stained, lips puffy and dripping saliva.

“so beautiful, so ruined,” satoru hums, reaching forward to wipe your cheeks as suguru pulls your hair out of your face, planting a kiss to your shoulder.

“i-i wanna make both of you cum,” you whine desperately. “w-want both loads inside of me.”

satoru cocks his head to the side. “inside of you? so filthy.”

“mm, that sounds nice,” suguru breathes into your neck. “our cocks rubbing together inside of ‘er till w-we cum.”

satoru nods greedily, stroking his cock with a tight fist as he stares down at the two of you.

so, now you lay on your back, satoru pinned underneath you. his cock has your tight ass feeling as though it’s going to light on fire, even though they’d oiled you up and lathered it in lubricant. you shift brainlessly between the two of them as suguru fills you from the front, and the friction of their cocks on the thin skin between your two holes has you drunk and unable to speak.

you all look dreadful, all flustered and sweaty and needy. suguru has puffy red claw marks all over his chest and arms, satoru’s hair is destroyed. everyone ruined and desperate in their own way.

the warmth of being enclosed by suguru and satoru has you purring like a cat, toes pointed in the air, attempting to leave kisses all over suguru’s shoulder as he dips his head into your neck.

your arms are still bound and useless, but your nails dig into satoru’s sweaty abdomen and he hisses below you.

“mmh - oh shit,” satoru whines in your ear.

“s-so tight like always,” suguru growls.

you can’t respond, throat swollen from being filled with cock but also your incessant wailing from the overwhelming amount of stuffing and pleasure.

“gonna stuff you so full of cum ‘till you’re dripping out of both holes,” satoru threatens, digging his fingertips wherever he can find them. one hand raises and grips suguru by his hair and you watch as suguru’s eyes roll back in his head.

“i-i’m gonna… ngh,” suguru loses control first, his body spasms and his cockhead jerks against the roof of your sludgy canal as the spurts come quickly and hot.

his cum pours into you without regard for anything else, and all you can do is lay there with your lips parted and take every last drop.

satoru decides you’re going to be next. he reaches around and starts toying with your clit, two long fingers swiping over it without a routine, just mindlessly trying to pull your cum out of you.

suguru’s strokes have slowed but they haven’t halted. he uses his sticky cum as more lubricant to fuck you through your high as you attempt to scream out, instead tears fill your eyes again and pour down your overstimulated cheeks.

“f-fuck!” each boy cries out, feeling you clench both holes around them, and this prompts satoru to fill you up a second time - thrusting harder as he makes sure you milk him of all he’s got.

“hah - mmh,” suguru whines from above you, pulling his strokes to a conclusion, his hands still desperately roaming your body as he twitches.

beneath you, satoru has dropped his hands against the mattress and closed his eyes, his heartbeat hammering into your back as you cockwarm him with your sore hole.

suguru pulls out and collapses next to you, and you roll off of satoru, who’s hands come up and slowly start to unravel your bondage.

your head falls on suguru’s sweaty shoulder and you close your eyes, feeling lightheaded.

“we’re sick,” you mutter aloud, not knowing what else to say.

“deranged,” suguru agrees.

“nasty.” satoru grins from behind you, and you feel the tension release your limbs and you stretch your arms for the first time in several hours.

“aw, look at the pretty red rope marks,” satoru whispers, dragging his finger along the skin and making you jump with sensitivity. “you did so good for us, honey.”

suguru nods and rotates his body to face you. his arm wraps around your hip and his palm rests on satoru’s.

“next time, we should tie up satoru and make him watch,” suguru grins.

you nod, yawning from the relaxing feeling of satoru’s hands massaging the searing red marks out of your skin, rubbing down your spine, as you breathe into suguru’s warm chest.

you can stay like this forever, you think, but it’s wrong. if all that you can get from the pair of friends is good sex every now and again, though, you’re satisfied with that. it doesn’t have to be anything more.

they’re just too cocky!

A/N:

@musepondersthings making a post about this exact scenario as i was writing it and nearly about to delete it because i thought it was too much is really living in my head rent free 😭

i… hope yall enjoyed, that is all i can say. im going to scrub my brain now. bye bye bye

~pennjammin

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru #suguru geto smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #geto x reader #geto smut

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tastesousweet · 4 months ago

Text

roommate!hamzah x reader . . .

summary: little headcannons i have ab these 2!!! they’re just friends of course (wink)!!

a/n: hiii i’m slowly working on hamzah requests, ty to those who send them in for me <3

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . tends to do his morning routine without a shirt on (grabbing coffee, feeding the cats, sitting on the balcony while responding to texts he’s put off for far too long)

it’s never bothered you because you’re rarely awake early enough to know of it. yet one morning hamzah is mortified by your hook up from the night before, awake and attempting to crack jokes with him as he pours the remaining orange juice into a soft magenta-stained mug that a girlfriend had gifted you last christmas.

hamzah's eyes give a silent glare at both the audacity (of this random man who's decided to parade around the kitchen that is fifty percent his in nothing but those loose boxer shorts!) and out of disgust (he'd unfortunately heard a lot of last night's... action from his room down the hall and he hates that he now has a face to associate with the trauma).

there's a awkward tension that is clearly not reciprocated by the brash and flamboyant guy leaning against the fridge door with a smirk.

hamzah keeps his arms crossed over his own bare chest, stood next to the coffee machine- and for once he’s actually annoyed by the slow frequency of the coffee's stream and the accommodating, overwhelming smell. but he's starting to think it must be your fling’s presence that's causing everything around him to feel a bit violating.

“ummmm….” he’d delay with a deep exhale, unsure how to end a conversation he never asked to begin

the guy would take a long sip of orange juice, “i’m just wondering like, how long have you two lived together? she didn’t even tell me she lived with anyone so— i mean, it’s not everyday you see a girl hot as that living with some guy!" he pauses, "oh…wait, come on man you had to have hit by now…” he babbles on and hamzah stares blankly, stifling a laugh when it comes to the last assumption.

“man, i’m just tryna’ enjoy my breakfast…” hamzah wishes he’d never left his bedroom so early.

the guy nods his head, “yeah…yeah i get that. i should get back to y/n and stuff. she sleeps kinda heavy, huh?”

hamzah nods absentmindedly, sipping his black coffee and making his way out of the kitchen, “guess so…” he stops and looks back at him with a look of slight disgust, “next time at least put some pants on dude, cmon.”

later that day hamzah tells you about it and you laugh so hard you almost fall off of the soft brown couch. “oh my god!!!!” you laugh through your words, “was your masculinity challenged?! did you feel threatened?? maybe he was trying to eye you up- you were practically naked...” you have a grin that makes hamzah subconsciously grin with you, forcing him to overcompensate due to your implications.

"absolutely none of those things?! what the fuck??? no. he was a fuckin' dog, even asked me if we've..." hamzah stutters a bit while gesturing between the two of you.

your face is shocked first as you both silently gesture between the two of you, occasionally making more grotesque and sexual movements to which you both begin to laugh. "no way! that guy has nothing but mush for brains."

hamzah bites his inner cheek harshly, tightening a grip on the circle pillow in his large arm, "yeah..."

you keep your gaze on your fingers fidgeting with the couch before a smirk inches onto your face and your head slowly turns towards hamzah.

it still surprises him how nervous you can make him with something as simple and intriguing as your eye contact, so he flusters up a bit and sputters a soft laugh, "what?" he reaches for the remote on the coffee table to distract himself.

you hum to yourself and pick up a mini twizzler from the small candy dish in the center of the table before plopping yourself down, resting your head on the pillow sat in hamzah's lap.

hamzah attempts to keep his demeanor intact as you snuggle yourself into comfort (so much so, your tiny spaghetti strap on your loose sleep top falls down your shoulder in beautiful imperfection).

you struggle with attempting to unwrap the red candy before hamzah eventually offers to help, "y'want me to do it?"

"please?" you nod and shift to look directly up at him rather than the tv.

"mhm..." he easily uses his teeth to open it, "and i'm taking a piece for my hard work."

"uh huh, sharing is caring"

not only does hamzah feed himself a peel of the twizzler, he holds a piece above your mouth which you take from him with a giggle, "mm, thank you"

hamzah's eyes almost explode when he wakes up a week later to see you making yourself a smoothie clad only in a bra and silky sleep shorts. you'd laugh at him and tell him he's so fragile and he'd claim you're trying to steal his thing while covering his eyes dramatically.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you like to play harmless pranks on in good spirits and post on your close friends story , calling it “hamzah hijinks”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . helps you cook or bake whenever you find a new recipe to try out on pinterest— at times they're even filmed and treated as competitions between you and mandy versus hamzah and martin

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . finds it difficult to not have a crush on you when his audience constantly tells him otherwise

there are plenty of shipping posts that come from your appearances and mentions on his channel but from your attitude hamzah's convinced you must not be aware of them or are truly that unbothered by anyone's opinion

clips such as you wiping flour from his cheek to which he joked, “okay stop it now, you know that really ignites my mommy issues”

or when you guest starred on a patreon episode of the podcast, adding small tidbits to the conversation while petting blue and eating a strawberry popsicle. leading hamzah to over reach and pet blue with you randomly, which many fans found cute— like you were a family

or whenever martin would bring you up and hamzah would immediately focus on what he says afterwards— many viewers have concluded he’s obsessed with you

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . now edits his youtube videos in the living room with your legs draped over his shoulders so that you can watch and help him when necessary (but mostly because of your abundantly clear physical love language)

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . thinks it’s really sweet that you can find a piece of him in any and everything without trying

“so i was out…”

hamzah leans his forearms against the island counter with a grin and his headset shifted from his ears (you interrupted his gaming and told him to come see you afterwards but he insisted on pausing for you) “uh huhhh??”

“andddd… i found a cute small shop and guess what they specialize in?!!!!”

“what??!!!”

“custom sonny angels!! so i got one for each of us.” you smile wide, “it’s crazy i just showed them a picture of us and they based the outfits on it. look at them!!!”

hamzah opens the box and finds the two small figures; one garnering his iconic nap queen hoodie and the other in one of your cute red babydoll tops. his mouth is wide for an extra second, “oh my god it’s us as lil’ babies” he laughs, “that’s so fucking cool, how much did you pay for this?”

“don’t worry about that. while i was waiting for them to paint those i also got you this nice green shirt from urban i just like this shade on you.” you held up the shirt and hamzah hugs you gently thanking you again with a short kiss to the top of your head.

“now lemme see what you got for yourself.”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . surprisingly finds you hiding away in the en-suite bathroom during a party you’re both hosting

“i didn’t think you would be in here??” he says while shutting the door behind him and taking a seat next to you on the bathroom floor

“i’m surprised to see you in here i lost you somewhere between martin showing up and that group of girls whisking you away.” you genuinely joke.

hamzah chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “yeah it’s really not like that— i’m really not like that.”

“i know you.” you smile at his oddly nervous face.

“why’d you end up in here?” he sighs and gives your side a soft tap of acknowledgment.

“i thought i just needed to use the bathroom but then i started to find myself way happier alone in here than out there right now.”

“i feel that. i don’t know if half of those people even know this is my house.”

“i know most of them don’t know this is my house.”

hamzah laughs and lets his head hang into the open space of his bent legs, to which you take the opportunity to steal his hat from his head, plopping it on top of yours.

“come on bruh, that was supposed to cover up this mess!” hamzah jokes referring to his wildly curly hair.

“it’s far from a mess hamzah, please.” and when he turns to you, you cradle his head with both hands, scratching softly at his scalp to help revive his hat-hair.

he stares at you kindly, “mm’hold on let me see it,” he gently pulls your hands away and stands to look into the mirror. “oh my god it’s fucking horrid.”

you stand up to defend as if you crafted his hair yourself, “stop it! it looks fine,” you lean onto your tip toes to fluff it a little more, “i like it like this,”

“oh really?” he exaggerates a lift of his eyebrows and manages to catch your eye in the mirror for a second before you look away bashfully.

“hey! don’t get all shy now,” he looks behind him and confidently wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, “it’s okay. i like yours like this,” he smiles and you roll your eyes playfully.

“‘m not gettin’ shy!” you wrap your arms around his lower torso and bury your head in his chest before you pop the question, reaching up to whisper in his ear, “did max bring you more weed??”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . hotboxes your bathroom with you, making sure to bring any snacks from the crowded kitchen for the munchies that will undoubtedly come afterward

this is one of the few times you’ve got a real good look in hamzah’s eyes.

the bathroom reeks of weed and the two of you (mostly you) decided that sitting face to face was far better than side by side. it was silent for a while before you felt the need to speak about his eyes.

“did you know your eyes aren’t black?” you ask.

hamzah shakes his head slowly.

“well they have the tiniest brownie-brown to them but you’d only know if you’re like this close,” you jokingly move close enough to touch your noses together.

hamzah looks over your entire face, realizing he’s never been this physically close to you before. you glance at his lips then to his glossy red eyes.

“you smell like coconut cookies,” hamzah smiles.

you sit back on your calves, across from him with his legs crossed, “i think it’s my shampoo,” you play around with a few strands.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod before sitting up again, resting your hands lightly on his thighs to hold yourself up, “do you wanna do something?”

he stares at you for a moment, “like what?”

“do you trust me?” he finds that your eyes glimmer extra when they’ve got that certain puffiness and widened pupil combination.

“yeah, ‘f course, but what are we doinggg?” hamzah drags unseriously.

“just shhh,” you smile and reach for his arm behind him, slowly bringing his cold hand up to your soft cheek. “is that okay?”

hamzah sends a silent nod.

“okay,” you breathe and bring your face closer to his.

hamzah’s mind is so boggled. he can’t believe any of this; he’s completely struck by awe and tangled in your sweet cherry stem of affection. he thinks you’re a special kind of girl; one with an attitude both sexy and innocently loving. so infatuating that he’s realizing he can’t kiss you, not here, not when you’re high and thinking irresponsibly.

not when there’s a chance that you’ll wake up tomorrow and not remember it, or worse ask him to forget about it for your sake.

not when your friendship lies directly on that line.

“mm, yeah we really… shouldn’t…” he takes pauses between his words, it almost physically hurts him to see you that stunned by his words with your face still safe in his palm.

you’re completely flustered and blink your eyes a few times before retreating from his space, “oh… fuck, i’m so sorry that was-”

“it’s not like that- it’s more like, not right now. later?” he scrambles for a response as you’re trying to keep yourself from drowning in embarrassment.

“mhm sure yeah, i’ll be back.” you give a forced smile and leave him alone on the tile floor.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you wake up the morning after a house party and find in your bathroom tub with a sharpie mustache above his lip and a pink post it note that read: “GOODNIGHT SUGAR!!! BEST PARTY EVER - Martin :D” written in a barely legible scrawl

#poor hazmat :((((#hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic fanfic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #martin and hamzah #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x y/n #hamzah #slushy noobz virus #slushynoobz #slushy noobz #thatmartinkid #martin #4freakshow #roommate!hamzah x reader

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rafescvntyclubgf · 5 months ago

Text

A Goddess - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeHockey!Rafe x Curvy!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: SMUT, drinking, swearing, soft dom Rafe, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), rough oral, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, and spanking.

📖 ask: Ok, hear me out: a group of beautiful girls and their gorgeous curvier friend, night out at a bar. Guys hitting on all of them but the curvy goddess. Rafe notices and decides to approach her. She's sassy vibes, he's soft Dom vibes.

✨“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.” ✨

3.2 K

Rafe’s POV:

“Jesus, Rafey. Losin’ your touch, baby?” Kelce snickers as he nabs my freshly cracked White Claw off the bar top.

“Uh, yeah. Two more White Claws and a shot of Tito’s on his tab, sweetheart,” I call to the bartender, firing her a wink. She shakes her head and smiles, draining the liquor in a glass passing two more drinks my way.

“Thanks for the liquor, baby.” Kelsey rolls his eyes and scoffs. “And, no. To answer your question, I haven’t lost shit.”

“Well, you usually got a girl or two by now…”

“I don’t need to try as hard as you, Kelc. Don’t worry about me. You could learn a thing or two? Been watchin’ your game all night. It’s rough.”

“By all means, King Cameron, show me how it’s done,” he mocks. I quickly down my shot, chasing it with a seltzer.

Kelce snakes through the thick crowd of college students bellied up at the bar, a packed dance floor in the center. I can’t help but laugh at my group, fawning over yet another variety pack of copy-and-paste girls. They’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the same shit every weekend. Kelce struts over to the last of the bunch, leaving me to break away; what a shame.

I walk toward the bar, leaning back into it as I stare into the crowd. ”A vodka cranberry. Please.“ I hear a soft voice come from my left. “Thank you.” That same girl hums as I look down in her direction, watching as she scribbles her name across the tab, passing it back. That’s a pretty name.

Her beautiful eyes flick to mine. A sweet smile falls on her plump lips. My eyes fall, lashes fluttering as I try my best to hide what an actual fuckin’ dog I truly am, but, my god… She’s a fucking goddess. Her cleavage is tied with a pretty little bow in the middle of her dress. Fuck me. I feel my cock twitch, eyes slamming shut; cheeks reddening in embarrassment. I’m too ashamed to even look back in her eyes for how long I’ve ogled her.

My gaze moves to hers again, still met with that same smile but a cocked brow this time. “You okay?” She chuckles.

“Mhmm…” I grunt. That’s it. That’s all I got.

“Alright… Have a nice night,” she giggles lightly before turning away, dress moving with her. The thin material hits just below her perfect ass, leaving her legs on display. Her dress shifts on her round hips as she moves, her ass recoiling with each step making my eyes roll back.

And, then, she stops just a few feet away. Joining my crowd, one of the girls hugs her. Another, leaning in to whisper something that makes her laugh. She lifts the drink that she bought, surrounded by a group of fuckin’ boys who should have bought it for her. A girl like that doesn’t need to do that shit. Not one of them is making a move. I hang back, watching her a little as she sips her little drink.

The petite blonde Kelce was talking to gives him a fake laugh and a nod, stepping away; Kelc, obviously struck out with her. His head is instantly on a swivel, looking around the group for another, matching eyes hers briefly before searching for the next. Kelce buries his White Claw before doubling back in her direction. Hell no. I walk toward the two of them, intercepting his efforts; shoving him away lazily. Her beautiful eyes widen in surprise as she looks back up at me.

Reader’s POV:

”Uhh… Hi again. Are you lookin’ for Alexis? She just went to the bathroom-“

”Who?“ He furrows his brow, the most delicious smile spreading on his lips as he steps even closer.

”Alexis. Sorry, these guys seemed to know her.“ You twirl your finger, gesturing to the men gathered around.

“Nah. Never met her. What’s your name?”

“Umm, Y/n,” you chuckle nervously as you look up at him. He’s gorgeous, even in the dim bar; light hair, light eyes, muscular… Holy shit. You reach out your hand, resting it on his chest as you lean closer. “I’m just visiting. What’s your name?”

He bites his lip, looking down, eyeing the contact between you. He draws a little breath, his arm wrapping around your body, resting on the small of your back. “I’m Rafe.”

“Rafe Cameron?”

“Yeah. Oh, shit. What did I do?” He winces.

“Horrible things,” you tease, tapping your hand on his chest. “No. I remember your name from the hockey game.” He gives you an open-mouthed smile, drawing you even closer. “You were in the penalty box a lot.”

“What? Me?” He asks with an exaggerated tone, pointing at himself. “Never.” Rafe’s eyes trail your body again, just like they did when you got your drink; when you weren’t sure if he was interested or just lost in a drunken daze. “You’re stunning, by the way,” he rasps.

Your cheeks warm up, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his compliment, finding yourself a little too stunned to speak. You lift your drink to your lips, taking a sip as you try to center yourself. ”Thank you.“

“It’s almost last call. Did you wanna get outta here?” He asks.

“Well – I. Umm… I should wait for these girls.”

“Eh. They come to our house every weekend, sweetheart. It’s up to you. And, if I’m somehow wrong… And hell freezes over. I’ll get you home safe. I swear. Scouts honor.”

“They come to your house every weekend, and you didn’t know Alexis?” You question as you guide your gaze to your gorgeous best friend. You feel his finger hook under your chin, directing your eyes back to his.

“Not my type.”

“This better, y/n?” Rafe asks as he pulls you in a little closer for warmth. His strong arms wrap around your body, chest pressed against your back as you wait for the Uber. You take in his rich cologne, the warmth of his cheek so close to yours.

“Perfect,” you hum.

“So, you’re just here for the weekend?” He asks; chills fan across your body as his breath hits your neck, just a slight gravel in his voice making you powerless.

“Just to visit. I’m comin’ next semester, so I thought I should check it out.”

“No fuckin’ way,” he asks excitedly, turning you to face his chest instead. “You’re comin’ here? Well, shit. We can do this every weekend. Huh?”

“This? And, what is ‘this,’ Rafe?” You ask in a breathy tone. His broad palms move a little lower, just a hair.

”Anythin’ you’ll let me.“ You give him a little nod, letting him know he can go a little further. ”Words, princess.“

”You can do whatever you’d like, Rafe.“

A devilish smirk tugs on his lips. Rafe is more than satisfied with your answer as his hands rest on your ass. ”You’re gonna let me do whatever I want? You sure?“

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” He steals your teasing words off your tongue, kissing you deeply. His hands shift to the back of your neck, pulling you nearer. Rafe slows down slightly, lips parted, letting you slip your tongue inside, rolling slowly. You scratch your nails through his dark blonde buzz cut, making him moan against your lips.

”Anything you’d like,“ you whisper again, feeling his smile spread along your lips.

The two of you are breathing heavily already, panting into your kiss, his lips on yours before you can even reach his bedroom. He pins you against the wall, lips locked on your neck as you pinch the buttons of his shirt, drawing them open, revealing more skin as you go.

Rafe leads you into his bedroom, throwing the door shut. His rough hands work up your arms, thumbs brushing your straps off your shoulders. Your dress slips to the floor, making him draw back fast. “Y/n, fuck,” he groans as his hands instantly caress your curves.

He snaps the lace at your hip, tugging at it impatiently as the other squeezes your tit. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he smiles, extending a finger for you to twirl under. “Look at this ass, baby. Shittt,” he moans as he cracks your skin, making you giggle delightedly.

“Thank you.” You slip the shirt off Rafe’s broad shoulders, tracing his tanned chest, working your way down as you take in his perfect physique. There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness, not with how he’s looking at you. You run your nails lightly through the ripples of his abs, tracing his v-lines, slipping just under the elastic of his boxers.

Rafe loops his fingers around your delicate lace thong, drawing it down to the floor, snagging it quickly before lofting it onto his dresser. ”Keepin’ those. Yeah?“

“M’kay.”

“Collateral. I expect you’ll come and take them back when you visit me. Yeah?”

“Okay… I mean. Yeah. Of course,” You giggle, nipping at your bottom lip. You grab his belt, drawing it open. Rafe pulls them off his hips as your lips meet his neck, sucking roughly.

You move lower, licking along his collarbone. His abs flex as you pass over them, dropping to your knees. “Shit, y/n,” he breathes. Your eyes widen as you take him in. White, skin-tight boxer briefs bunched up slightly on his thighs. His shaft and head stick out the bottom, strangled in cotton, leaking from the tip, dripping slightly down his inner thigh, aching to be freed.

You lean in, gaze locked on his as you glide your tongue along the mess. “Holy shit,” he whispers, yanking at the elastic, craving more. You tease him further: massaging his precum into his swollen tip as he watches on, dick pulsing with each brush of your finger.

You draw his boxers low, cock, swinging free, standing straight. “Fuck me, Rafe,” you whimper, taking a grip on his dick, rock-hard in your hands, feeling your cunt throb. He lets out a drawn-out moan as you wrap your lips around his mushroom tip, watching as his eyes shut softly.

“Mmm… Yes, baby,” he praises. You can taste him on your tongue; salty, just a hint of sweetness. Rafe’s fingers instantly reach for you, tangling into your hair. He follows your guide as you work his dick inch by inch, pushing yourself to see how much of him you can get. His warm tip kisses the back of your throat. You can feel the blood pumping in his cock.

You sweep your tongue along the bottom, feeling every ridge and vein. “Fuck, y/n. So fuckin’ good. Feel so good,” he mumbles, the pleasure in his voice making your eyes roll back. You fuck his aching cock deep into your throat, vision clouding as tears gather in your eyes. Blinking your sights, you feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, making Rafe smile. “Good girl,” he groans. “Look at you. Shit.” Rafe’s hips jostle, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands.

Popping off his cock you kiss his tip before opening your mouth wide, slapping his dick against your tongue. “Use me,” you whisper warmly, taking him back into your mouth as you grip his wrists; Rafe’s fingers are already twisted in your hair.

“Where have you been, pretty girl?” He grunts. “So fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe pitches his hips, dick driving into your throat, taking you by surprise. You relax your throat as he picks up pace. The squelching of spit, groans, and muffled moans fill the room as he ruts deep. You gag on his cock, making his eyebrows furrow. “Gonna cum. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. You ready, baby? You gonna – You gonna be a good girl and swallow it all for me?”

Rafe’s head tosses back as he praises your name; that same taste amplified as his cum coats your throat. You drop your hands, gripping his ass, feeling his muscles pulse. “Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps, wiping a glaze of sweat off his forehead as he looks down at you in awe. You draw off his cock nice and slow.

“Good?” You pant through a smirk.

Rafe picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves you to the bed. ”Good?“ He snickers at the ridiculousness of your question. ”Not even close, angel,“ he mumbles as he leans in for a kiss. ”M’serious. Alright? Not waitin’ ’til next semester. You’re visitin’ me. You can suck my cock just like that, baby girl, and I can taste this sweet fuckin’ pussy whenever I’d like. Alright?“

”Yeah?“

”Mhmm… You’re gonna ride my face. How does that sound?“

Your stomach sinks at his request. ”Rafe… I don’t kn-“

“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.”

“It’s just-”

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” You steal his teasing words off his tongue this time, kissing him deeply. Rafe chest presses into yours, craving you closer.

He lays down on the bed, beckoning you. Rafe touches you softly, brushing his hands up your legs; his lips connect to your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. ”You ever done this before?“ He asks. ”Or am I the first?“

”You’re the first,“ you whisper, looking down at him nervously.

”A virgin. Huh? You’re gonna love it. Alright? Grab the headboard, y/n,“ he smiles. ”C’mon.“ You feel his warm breath against your pussy, making you weak already. ”C’mon,“ he growls again in playfully tone, pulling you down.

”Fuck, Rafe,“ you pant longingly as you feel his warm tongue, licking up your silk to your clit. He moans against your cunt; the vibrations are electrifying; your sensitivity, at an all-time high.

”Mmm, you taste so fucking good, Y/n,“ he moans, locking tightly onto your clit. Rafe sucks and holds you in his mouth, using his tongue to flick. Your thighs instantly start to quiver. He grips your body, guiding you to rock back and forth. ”Sit, baby,“ he pants, hungrily.

”Rafe…“

”Sit.“ He slaps you roughly on the meat of your thigh, overpowering you; burying himself in your pussy.

”Oh… Just – Just like that,“ you moan; bringing your hands up, squeezing your breasts tightly. You feel your orgasm in reach. ”Rafe, do I cum like this?“ You pant frantically. He doesn’t answer, continuing to please you. You cry out as his finger slips into your entrance; his ringed digit gives you a little extra friction. The combination of both is absolutely euphoric. His mouth and hands play together beautifully; jolts of pleasure spur through your body as you grind your hips. Rafe increases his pace, moving at an unforgiving tempo. The sloppy sounds of your cunt, heard through the room as well.

”Rafe,“ you whimper, breathlessly; your pleasure about to bubble over. “I’m gonna… Oh my god,” you scream in pleasure. Rafe runs circles on your clit as you ride out your orgasm.

”God, you’re so beautiful, baby,“ he gasps as he sits up against the headboard. ”You taste so sweet. That feels good, princess?“ He asks as he brushes a few stray tears off your cheek.

”So fucking good,“ you barely manage to speak between breaths.

“Good, baby. Can’t believe that was your first time…” You can hear the genuine surprise in his tone, boosting your confidence even more. Rafe relaxes into the headboard, biting back a smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto his lap.

”Perfect fuckin’ tits,“ he hums. You toss your head back as he kisses you roughly, pressing your breasts together, licking a line in between. He locks down on your nipple; swirling, flicking, and nipping your pebbled flesh. Rafe runs his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyelids hooded. ”Mmm… Can I fuck you, princess?“ He gives you a hopeful smile as his eyes continue to roam your body.

”How do you want me?“

He looks down, eyeing his cock between your thick thighs. His gaze returns to yours; a smirk spreads on his lips. “Just like this, baby girl.” He seizes his dick in his hand, leaning back slightly. You bite your lip, giving him a little nod.

You drop down slightly, your wetness transferring to his cockhead. “Fuck me.” He lets out a loud groan; eyes, rolling back. Your lips meet his neck, kissing him roughly, licking and nibbling his skin. Reaching around your back, you skim Rafe’s tip with your fingers; he lets out a deep groan.

You press him toward you, guiding him to your heat. Rafe takes a handle on the plush of your hips, pressing you down. Your knees widen on the sheet as you work lower, pressure building between your thighs as he starts to stretch you out. ”Fuck, Rafe,“ you whine. Letting out a sharp breath. You look down, watching as you take the last of him.

”Are you okay, y/n?“ He whispers. There’s a fire in his eyes. Rafe, fully aware of his size. You can tell he’s taking satisfaction in asking you so sweetly as he splits you in two.

”M’okay,“ you whimper. Rafe smiles wickedly in reply.

”Good. I’m not gonna last long. This pussy feels too fucking good.“ He chuckles weakly.

You start rolling your body slowly, mewling softly into his mouth as you adjust to him. Your hands move up his tight stomach, resting on his chest. Grinding and winding gradually, you press your hands against him; tilting your body away slightly. Rafe watches carefully as you work him in and out of your wet pussy; hands inching up your stomach, past your rib cage, massaging your breasts. His tongue meets your nipple; fingers delighting the other.

Rafe takes you in his arms, shifting the two of you lower on the bed. You sink a little deeper on his cock; inhaling sharply when he lays flat. He lets out a lusty chuckle as you release a drawn-out moan. ”You like that? Not too much?“ He taunts.

A wide smile spreads on your lips as you toe the line between ache and bliss. ”Just right.“

“This body was made for me, I swear,” he mumbles. “Bounce for me, baby.” You start to push on the mattress, breasts moving with you as your skin slaps against Rafe’s lap. “Holy shit,” Rafe huffs through his kiss-swollen lips; hooded eyes fighting to stay open as he takes you in. Rafe slips his hands around to your ass, spanking one cheek, then the next. Causing your pussy to tense with each slap.

“Mmm… You gonna cum for me, princess?” He croons as his hand, rests against your pelvis; thumb circling your clit. The added contact makes you lose your rhythm. Rafe fucks up into you, holding you in place as he continues to stroke, fighting back his pleasure; but, it’s too much.

“Gonna cum,” he mumbles.

“Cum inside me, Rafe,” you whisper. ”M’on the pill. It’s alright.“

”That what you want?“ He asks with a lust-laced tone.

“Cum in me.”

Rafe reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your body, taking you quickly to your back. He spreads your thighs wide. Your breath escapes your chest when he plunges himself back in; his fingers greet your clit. Your legs start to quake, jagged breaths as he starts pounding you into the soft mattress. “Oh Rafe...” You cry in pleasure as you gush around his cock.

“Gonna cum in this perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes, voice wavering. “Mmm… Fuck, y/n,” he groans; gripping your hips in his hands, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his cock throbs; heavy loads of cum buried deep. Rafe expels a deep breath, his mouth connecting with yours the next moment.

He pulls out, making you reach for a breath; as he watches your share release drip out of your puffy pussy onto his sheets. The emptiness is comforted by Rafe’s hand on you again, fingers swirling through the wetness, stuffing it back inside.

Sex hangs heavy in the air; your bodies, tangled in sheets. Rafe cups your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me you’re free tomorrow?”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x fem!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x curvy!reader #rafe x reader smut #rafe cameron one shot #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron blurb #rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚

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eddiesghxst · 2 years ago

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no thoughts just loser!eddie losing his shit when he sees you over at his house for the first time, rifling through his things like any normal friend does.. but you stumble upon a box.under his bed. it’s like slow motion when he walks into his room and sees you open the lid and he nearly drops a glass of water, literally biting his fist in pain, trying to stop you but then you’d only get more curious of what he was hiding.

you. he has polaroids of you except they’re the dirty cum covered kinds. he has your underwear with his stains in it. he has your perfume bottles, your rings (he would totally get hard seeing how tiny they are compared to his, and imagining the dainty stones on the rings on your ring finger like an engagement stone)

it’s like a fucking shrine for you and he thinks he’s gonna pass out as your eyes widen.

but you only turn to him and smile, and his knees weaken. literally almost fainting when you kiss him because you have definitely slept with his sweatshirts, came to the idea of eddie, etc. he’s just such a fucking loser but that night he makes you cum so much you see stars and he’ll have a scrapbooks worth of polaroids (just from that night alone lol)

anyways do you think you could write a lil something based loosely off that? 🫶

BESTIE I MIGHTVE DIED YES. YES YES YES.

also this ended up longer than I'd intended but who cares its pervy!loser!eddie

18+ — MINORS DNI

word count: 1k

————

Eddie’s not sure if he believes this is real. There’s no way this is real, right? There’s no way he has his best friend naked on his bed, covered in sweat and cum— his cum, at that.

He almost thinks it’s all another one of his sick, perverted dreams, but then he’s reminded that none of those dreams have felt this real. None of his dreams have felt this vivid to where he can actually feel the tremble in your hands as you wrap a fist around his wet cock, the shift of the bed as you clumsily scramble to your knees, the lewd and unmistakable shlick sound of your hand fisting his spent cock. It’s never been this vivid— that’s how he knows this isn’t a dream.

You’re blissed out and cock-drunk as you shuffle to lean on all fours, lowering your mouth to suckle on Eddie’s leaking tip. Your toes curl at the sound of Eddie groaning above you, a hand resting on the back of your head to shove himself further down your throat. “Take it all the way in, that’s it— fuck,” Your center throbs at his words, a wet gagging noise emitting from the back of your throat when Eddie’s tip meets the tight space. He curses with a groan, head dropping back for a moment before he looks back down at you with a lazy smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you gag on my dick, sweetheart.”

You whine, your hips grinding back against nothing, the cool breeze of his room sending shivers up your spine when it graces the wet heat of your cunt. Around you, scattered on the bed, are the many polaroids you had just discovered earlier. Snapped photos of you in bed, in the shower, getting dressed in your room; all images that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Eddie was so sure you would never speak to him again when you found that box full of all things you, but to his surprise (and sinful delight), you were just as fucked up as Eddie, if not more.

Eddie’s eyes dart all over the bed; polaroids, lace panties and matching bras, dainty jewelry, lipsticks, and perfume bottles. Eddie Munson was a perverted thief, and it somehow landed him balls deep down your throat.

He reaches down and picks up a particular Polaroid, one of his favorites; a picture of you laid on your stomach in your bed, one leg hiked up to form a comfortable sleeping position. You’d forgone your sleeping shorts this night, and Eddie took it upon himself to jack off and cover your ass in sticky ropes of his cum, snapping a photo as the white substance dripped down between the folds of your ass to stain your pretty panties (Eddie stole those panties that same night).

He takes the picture and holds it up between two fingers. “So many nights of wasted cum… you’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl.” His voice is low and teasing, and you whine against him, nuzzling his cock further down your throat until your nose brushes against the curly hairs surrounding his base.

Eddie’s knuckles are tight against your scalp when he pulls you off his cock, shivering at the wet gasp you take, bleary eyes blinking up at him as your spit drips onto his thighs. “Think you’ve been good enough for it?” He wraps a hand around himself and rubs his throbbing tip against your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth to offer your tongue. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, chuckling when you whine and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the sticky feeling of his cum and your arousal sliding against the insides of your hot thighs, and your eyes roll at the sensation. You lean forward and nuzzle against his cock, “Please, Eds— want it so bad. I’ve been so good, I have.” Your words are nearly slurred; the only thing on your mind is the overwhelming urge you have to feel Eddie’s cum in the back of your throat.

You don’t see Eddie reaching for his camera, too focused on licking your way down to his balls. “Fuck— look at me, sweetheart, give me those pretty eyes.”

You slowly blink up at Eddie, wet lashes fluttering and pouty lips grazing his cock as you gaze at the camera. A flash and a snapping sound echo through the room before a white card come out the bottom, a curse falling from Eddie’s lips as he shakes the paper and tosses it to the side for later. He nods down towards you, “Love on it, baby; show me how much you love my cock.” You don’t wait for another second, licking a thick stripe up his cock, rounding your lips around his tip to suck eagerly. Eddie takes another picture, and you whine.

“Shit, I’m gonna come— keep sucking baby, keep taking me in.”

You shuffle forward, nose brushing against his pelvis once again, and Eddie takes it as permission to secure a hand atop your head and begin fucking himself into the back of your throat. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets below you, watery eyes gazing up at the blissed-out Eddie above you. His hips falter during the last few thrusts; he doesn’t last much longer.

“I’m gonna come… don’t swallow, okay?” You nod as best as you can, and without further directions, Eddie’s cum floods your mouth until you nearly choke on it.

He pulls out of your mouth with a moan, instructing you to open your mouth and show him your tongue, which you immediately obey. He reaches for the camera once more, snapping one picture with you on all fours, gazing up at the camera with your tongue out, white sticky cum coating the inside of your mouth. He takes a second picture, this time with his hand cradling your jaw. The third and last picture he takes is with his hand still cradling your jaw, but his thumb is now pressed against your tongue, smearing his sticky mess across your tastebuds.

And when he tosses the newly printed photos into the pile of new Polaroids, he catches a glimpse of one clear picture of your pussy freshly fucked and covered in his cum. Eddie can’t help it when his cock twitches against his thigh once again.

It’s safe to say that Eddie had to get a new box the next day <3

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

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hello!! i hope u have a good day🤗 i wanted to know if you still accept requests? and if yes, could i please request a remus x reader (golden trip era if possible!!🩷) in which the reader hates christmas so remus tries to do everything in his power to make this christmas a special one for her? thank you in advance!💞 i love your blog so much

Hi, thanks for your request! There's nothing in here alluding to Remus' age, so you can imagine him in whatever era you want I suppose

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It feels strange being in the car in your pajamas. You’re curled up in the passenger seat, socked feet tucked underneath you and heat blasting through the vents, with the thermos of hot cocoa Remus made you cradled in your hands. His own thermos sits open in a cup coaster in the center console, steam wafting from the top as it cools and Remus turns slowly down a neighborhood street.

“Oh, I like how they did theirs around the tree,” you say, leaning forward to see out Remus’ window. A large oak towers above the house, the trunk and larger branches covered in red and white lights striped to look like a candy cane. “Do you think they came like that, or they actually alternated colors?”

“I don’t know,” Remus replies. His face is cast a soft pink in their glow. “It was an interesting choice, though, doing the tree like that and then blue lights on the house.”

You tilt your head. “I think they’re supposed to look like icicles. It feels on theme.”

Remus hums, letting the car continue at a slow idle down the street. “Do you prefer white lights or colored lights?”

“I don’t care, I just like when they’re consistent. Don’t do your roof in one and your windows in another, you know?”

“Mm, fair enough. But if you had to choose.”

“I dunno, um…white, I suppose.”

Remus sighs. “And I had so much faith in you.”

“What?” You laugh, delighted at his little smile. You love when Remus gets into one of his teasing moods. “You feel that strongly about colored lights?”

“Absolutely.” He nods at a house with white lights across the street. “See, you do it like that, and you’re basically just outlining your house. It’s plain.”

“How’s that any different than outlining it in alternating colors?”

“Alternating colors are the classic Christmas light,” Remus argues, with a resoluteness you know is exaggerated but are fascinated by nonetheless. “It’s…I don’t know, sort of kitschy. And I like that they make the roofs look like gingerbread houses.”

“Like gumdrops?”

He smiles at you. “Exactly.”

You blow into your thermos, steam warming your face. “This is an odd hill to die on, Remus.”

“Well, someone’s got to.”

“Fine.” You heave a sigh, heavy on the dramatics. “You might be converting me.”

He gives you a sidelong glance. “I don’t want a partner who has to change just to be with me.” You laugh, appalled, and Remus’ lips quirk mutinously. “But if you’re doing it for yourself…”

“I am,” you assure him quickly. “I’ll be a colored light devotee for the rest of my life, I promise.”

You go on like that through several streets, admiring some houses and condemning others with ruthless judgement. You end up halfway on Remus’ side of the car, your elbow on the console and head touching his shoulder just for the sake of contact. One of his hands rests on the inside of your knee for the same reason. As you drive, he turns up the radio a smidge, until you can recognize the instrumental music crackling through the speakers.

“Is this the nutcracker?”

“It is.” You don’t know Remus to get embarrassed often, but he looks almost that.

You smile. “Do you have the nutcracker on cassette?”

“I do.”

You must look all too delighted, because he gives the inside of your knee a light warning squeeze.

“Don’t make fun. My mam likes it. It was almost all the Christmas music we listened to when I was a kid.”

“Oh.” You smile at his profile, lovesick. “That’s sweet, Rem. So now you listen to it on your own?”

“Sometimes.”

“Because it makes you nostalgic?”

“I suppose so.”

Your heart grows warm and heavy in your chest. You’re less shy about wrapping a hand around his elbow, hugging it closer so you can lean your head on his bicep more fully. You can almost feel the affection in his smile as he turns to look, shining down on the top of your head like the moon’s glow.

“Is this what Christmas is always like for you?” you ask in a soft voice. Pretty lights, the nutcracker, a thermos of hot chocolate. Slow drives down dazzling streets on a silent night.

Remus understands what you mean. “Not always,” he says, “but some of the time, yeah. I try to make time for the smaller traditions like this.”

You look out the front windshield. All the colors of the houses ahead blur together. “Thanks for sharing this one with me.”

“Dovey, of course,” he says. His arm moves underneath you, and you sit up as his hand finds your cheek. You bend to him willingly, letting him grace you with the softest kiss any girl has ever received. You think this about Remus often; that he’s your privilege and yours alone. It gives you tingles to dwell upon.

“I’m glad you wanted to come with me,” he says, thumb stroking over your cheek even as he turns his attention back to the road. “I know you haven’t always liked Christmas, but…it doesn’t have to be all chaos and spending money. There’s room for things like this, too.”

You hum, watching him while he watches the road. The slowly passing lights play prettily on his eyelashes and the tips of his overgrown hair. His hand holds the wheel near the bottom, relaxed and sure, and his window is starting to fog from the heat inside the car. It makes the outside world look blurred around the edges. Remus’ thumb strokes your cheek again, almost absently.

“I like your way of doing things,” you say near a whisper.

It’s a pleasure to watch his lips curve in a smile. You feel lucky to see it. “I’m glad, sweetheart,” he says tenderly. “We’ll do more things like this, okay? Try to make it a good one this year.”

You hum and settle back against his arm, looking past him to the lights of a house, the colors like gumdrops lining their roof. It’s already a good one.

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harmonictechnicality · 7 months ago

Text

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

#hi fam I’ve missed yall #please have some words if you need them #in my brain - this takes place while prepping for the vecna fight #idk I think about the conversations being had at that time a lot #serious and lighthearted bc how else do you cope?#aaaaanyways please thank Chappell roan #her music made me miss making things 😌#okay I hope you are thriving and hydrating out there 💙#steddie #steddie ficlet #oh my god I forgot what other tags I use fcegegeheghj

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

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oooh I have an idea for a modern!jace fic. I am a sucker for academic rivals to lovers so something like that. maybe reader finds out that jace is struggling (I thought a foreign language class since he struggled with valerian) or the teacher makes reader tutor Jace. I hope that made sense!

thank you xoxo

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You despised above everything anyone who was from a sports team. They were loud, entitled, arrogant, and made college all about them. You had a special hatred for that one guy from the football team who was banging at your dorm door at 11pm on a Thursday, thinking he was at his ex-girlfriend's dorm.

But when Mr. Perron had asked you to tutor the center player of the hockey team in exchange for extra credits, you couldn’t refuse.

You thought it would be easy and that he would take your tutoring seriously — his place in the hockey team was on the line —, but Jacaerys Velaryon was a pain in your ass. He had difficulty concentrating after twenty minutes and kept arguing over the spelling of words.

‘’You can’t pronounce it like that,’’ you said for the third time since you sat at a table in the tutoring center.

‘’Why not? It’s written that way,’’ Jace argued back, pointing to the word in the textbook.

‘’Because that’s not how you pronounce ‘croissant‘! I don’t make the rules.’’ You held back an exhausted sigh, your patience wearing thin. ‘’If you go to Paris and say it like that, they’re gonna laugh at you.’’

‘’They’re gonna be too distracted by my charming smile to hear my wrong pronunciation.’’ He flashed his signature smile at you, the one that made most people swoon, but you shook your head, refusing to engage in anything other than what you were there for.

‘’Unfortunately for you, your charm will not work on Mr. Perron,’’ you said, making his smile disappear. ‘’And it definitely won’t work on the exam.’’

Forty-five minutes later, Jace still couldn’t seem to get the translations right. You felt like he wasn’t even trying, but he actually was. French was just not sticking.

‘’Look, I’m here to help you, but if you want to waste my time—’’

Panic set inside Jace. ‘’No. I really need your help,’’ he insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. ‘’I swear I’m trying. If I don’t pass, I’m gonna get kicked off the team. There’s five games left, and we are so close to the play-offs. Please, don’t let me fail.’’ He looked at you intently, almost like a puppy dog begging for a treat.

You stayed at the tutoring center for another hour. There was a slight improvement, but Jace would need a lot more hours of tutoring to pass his exam.

So, that’s what you did. Everyday at 7pm, he would meet you at the tutoring center and bring snacks from the campus café, claiming studying on an empty stomach was proven less effective by studies. You hated how he made crumbs on the table and how casually flirty he was, but his charming smile was growing on you and making you less indifferent by the day, much to your annoyance.

You quickly shook those growing feelings out of your heart, refusing to fall for a hockey player. He already had a ton of girls at his feet. The chances he would reciprocate those growing feelings were too slim to even consider.

‘’Thanks for helping me. It means a lot to me,’’ Jace said on your last tutoring session. ‘’I’ve improved a lot this week, and I would not have been able to get this far without you.’’

During your time together, you got to know him a little and no longer saw him as just an entitled college athlete. He was sweet and thoughtful, and a true mama’s boy. You tried so hard to cover your fondness when he answered his mother’s call during a session. He even had a cute picture of his family as his lockscreen.

You gathered your stuff, putting everything into your backpack. ‘’Can I ask you something? Why did you take French if you struggle with foreign language?’’

Jace groaned, embarrassment filling his body. ‘’Because it seemed easy…and girls like it when a guy speaks French,’’ he admitted, his cheeks pink as he covered his face with his hand.

‘’Watch them all fall for you when you pronounce ‘croissant’ correctly.’’

A small laugh left his lips, amused by your teasing.

The sound of his laugh made your heart flutter, but you played it off by facing the other way. He couldn’t know that his charm was getting to you.

‘’There’s one week left until your exam. You gotta keep studying if you want to pass,’’ you said to him. ‘’No relenting.’’

You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked to the door, preparing to exit, but Jace called your name.

‘’What do I get if I pass?’’

His voice made you slowly turn around to look at him. ‘’You get to stay on the hockey team?’’

Jace pulled back on his Wolves hoodie, making you daydream about wearing it and smelling his woody cologne and something that was just him. ‘’No. What else do I get? I need something to motivate me.’’

A smirk curled at the corner of your lips, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. ‘’If you get above 80%, I’ll suck your cock.’’

To you, it was a joke — just a joke —, but Jace never studied this hard before. He spent all his free time with his nose in his french textbook, and even brought it to the gym so he could study while running on the treadmill. His teammate made fun of him, but he didn’t care. The reward would be worth it.

On the day of the exam, he asked Mr. Perron if he could grade his exam immediately, needing to know if he could play tomorrow night. Jace waited impatiently as the man checked everything, nerves bubbling in his stomach. When Mr. Perron handed him his exam, he walked out and started looking for you.

He found you sitting in the quad, reading by yourself. He ran over to you, and shoved his exam in front of your face. At the top right corner was a bright red 81%.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry

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deluboo · 7 months ago

Text

HE AIN'T HITTING IT LIKE HE SUPPOSED TO HIT IT.

genre: smut — 18+ ㅤ contains: protected sex intoxication fingering

the hum of the party surrounds you as you step through the doorway, the bass from the speakers pulsing in time with your heartbeat. colorful lights dance across the crowded living room, where bodies move in sync with the music, laughter, and conversation blending into a cacophony of sound. you scan the room, spotting your boyfriend in the far corner, engaged in a heated debate with his friends. you sigh, the tension between you two hanging heavy over your head.

you refuse to have sex with him, a boundary he hasn’t been too understanding about. he thinks you’re not comfortable yet, which is partly true, but there’s more to it that you can’t quite put into words. it’s not just about being uncomfortable; there’s a fear that grips you every time you think about taking that step with him.

in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, you spot minghao. his aloof demeanor and intense gaze make him stand out even in the dim lighting. he’s always been a bit of an enigma, quiet and reserved, which only fuels your irritation towards him. tonight, you decide to approach him, a mix of curiosity and annoyance driving your steps.

you weave through the crowd, the heat from the bodies around you making the room feel warmer than it is. as you approach the kitchen, the chatter and laughter seem to fade into the background, leaving just the steady thrum of the music and your own heartbeat in your ears.

minghao stands there, seemingly lost in thought as he sips his drink. he doesn't notice you at first, and for a moment, you observe him. his expression is neutral, his eyes scanning the room with a certain detachment. he's always been like this, you think. aloof, almost distant. it irks you, this air of mystery he carries.

“hey, loner,” you tease, leaning against the counter beside him. the corners of your mouth twitch into a smirk as you try to catch his attention. “why so serious?”

minghao finally looks at you, his gaze cool and detached. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence between you stretching out. he takes another sip of his drink before responding. “just enjoying my drink,” he replies, his tone as blunt as ever.

you roll your eyes, taking a moment to study him. he’s dressed simply, yet there’s something about the way he carries himself that commands attention. you’ve never understood why he intrigues you so much, especially given how different he is from your usual type.

“always so mysterious,” you comment, your voice light, though there’s an underlying edge to your words. “what’s it like being the brooding artist of the group?”

he raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “what’s it like always needing to be the center of attention?”

you can’t help but laugh, a genuine sound that surprises even you. “touché,” you say, raising your own drink in a mock toast. “i guess we both have our roles to play.”

the banter feels comfortable, almost familiar. it’s strange, given how little you actually interact with minghao. your interactions are usually brief, marked by sarcastic remarks and quick retorts.

“so,” you say, leaning in slightly, “why are you really here all alone? don’t tell me you’re avoiding everyone.”

he shrugs, his gaze drifting over the crowd. “sometimes it’s better to watch than to participate. you see more that way.”

you follow his gaze, the throng of partygoers a blur of movement and color. “and what do you see?”

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—interest, perhaps?—before his expression smooths over again. “people pretending to be something they’re not. it’s entertaining.”

you scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “and you’re above all that?”

“i didn’t say that,” he replies, his tone neutral. “just that it’s easier to see when you’re not in the middle of it.”

there’s a brief silence as you process his words. you’ve always thought of minghao as...detached, maybe even a bit pretentious, but tonight he seems more… grounded. it’s disarming, and you find yourself wanting to know more.

“you know,” you say, your voice softer now, “i always thought you were kind of a jerk. but maybe i was wrong.”

he chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “maybe you were. or maybe i am, and you’re just starting to see it.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “well, if you are, you hide it well.”

there’s another pause, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. you’re not sure what it is, but it makes your pulse quicken.

“so, what about you?” he asks suddenly, his gaze piercing. “why are you really here? with a boyfriend who doesn’t seem to pay you much attention?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. you glance over at your boyfriend, still engrossed in his conversation, oblivious to your absence.

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “maybe i’m just trying to figure things out.”

minghao’s expression softens, and he leans in closer. “figure what out?”

you take a deep breath, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. “why i’m with someone who doesn’t understand me. why i can’t bring myself to be… intimate with him.”

he studies you for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. “your boyfriend probably doesn’t even know the way you taste.”

your breath hitches, the bluntness of his statement hitting you harder than you’d like to admit. you laugh it off, though the sound is hollow. “yeah, true,” you sigh, surprising even yourself with your honesty.

minghao's eyes narrow slightly, curiosity evident in his gaze. "what, really? why?"

you feel a mix of irritation and vulnerability. his directness is unnerving, and you can't decide whether you appreciate it or hate it. "scared," you mutter, turning your eyes away from him, focusing instead on the rim of your drink. the conversation suddenly feels too real, too raw.

he frowns, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "scared of what?"

your fingers tighten around your glass, the condensation making your skin slick. "too many questions," you reply, your voice strained. you take a large sip of your drink, the alcohol burning down your throat. "i'm going to go dance."

you push away from the counter, your heart pounding in your chest as you head towards the makeshift dance floor. the music engulfs you, the bass vibrating through your body. you lose yourself in the rhythm, the world narrowing down to the beat and the movement of your limbs. for a moment, you manage to forget the piercing gaze of minghao, the weight of his questions lingering in the back of your mind.

you spot mingyu in the crowd, his tall frame and easy smile drawing you in like a magnet. he's talking with a group of friends, but his eyes light up when he sees you approaching. you feel a surge of confidence, the alcohol making you bolder, more uninhibited.

"hey, mingyu," you say, your voice a little louder than necessary to be heard over the music.

he turns to you, his smile widening. "hey, y/n! having fun?"

"trying to," you reply with a grin. "dance with me?"

he doesn't need to be asked twice. mingyu wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the two of you start to move to the beat. his movements are smooth and effortless, and you find yourself matching his rhythm easily. the music is loud, the bass pulsing through your veins as you lose yourself in the dance.

you throw your arms around his neck, leaning in closer as the song shifts to a slower, more sensual beat. the room seems to blur around you, your focus narrowing down to the feel of mingyu's hands on your waist, the warmth of his body against yours.

for a moment, it feels like nothing else matters. you can forget about your boyfriend, about minghao's piercing questions. all that exists is the music and the movement, the way your body responds to mingyu's touch.

but then, through the haze of the dance floor, you catch sight of minghao again. he's standing at the edge of the room, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. there's something unreadable in his expression—concern, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. you can't tell, and it frustrates you.

you try to shake off the feeling, focusing instead on mingyu. "you're a good dancer," you say, your voice breathy.

he chuckles, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "thanks. you're not so bad yourself."

you laugh, the sound mingling with the music. but even as you try to lose yourself in the moment, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. it's as if minghao's gaze is a physical presence, pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

the sensation intensifies, becoming almost unbearable. you open your eyes to see minghao still standing there, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. there's a moment of silent communication between you, something passing between you that you can't quite identify.

before you can react, minghao is beside you, his presence commanding. he gently but firmly places a hand on your arm, pulling you away from mingyu with a surprising amount of strength. "come on," he says, his voice steady but leaving no room for argument. "you need to sober up."

"hey!" you protest, trying to pull away. "i'm fine!"

minghao doesn't relent, his grip firm but not painful as he leads you through the crowd and up the stairs. each step feels like a small battle, the alcohol in your system making your movements sluggish and your thoughts hazy. you barely notice the curious looks from other partygoers as minghao guides you to the second floor.

he opens a door at the end of the hallway, revealing a guest bedroom, and gently but insistently guides you inside. the room is dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos downstairs. the silence is almost deafening, broken only by the distant thrum of the music.

minghao closes the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding strangely final. you sway slightly on your feet, the room spinning around you as you try to get your bearings. he places a steadying hand on your arm, his touch grounding you.

“sit down,” he instructs, guiding you to the edge of the bed. you sink down onto the mattress, the soft surface a welcome relief.

he crouches in front of you, his eyes level with yours. there’s a seriousness in his gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. he reaches for a bottle of water on the nightstand, unscrewing the cap before handing it to you. “drink this,” he says firmly. “you need to sober up.”

you take the bottle from him, the cool plastic a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin. you bring it to your lips, taking a small sip at first, then a larger one as the refreshing liquid slides down your throat. it feels like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long.

“what?” you ask, catching the intense look in his eyes.

“nothing,” he mutters, flopping back on the bed and pulling out his phone, the light illuminating his features.

you frown, turning to look at him. “you’re just going to lay on some random guy’s bed?”

“can’t really give a shit, but i think this is the guest room,” he replies, still focused on his phone.

you nod, a small “oh” escaping your lips. the silence stretches out between you, filled only by the muffled sounds of the party downstairs. you take another sip of water, feeling the fog in your mind slowly start to lift.

you lean back on your hands, your gaze drifting to the ceiling. “why did you bring me here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

minghao glances at you, his expression unreadable. “because you were about to make a mistake,” he says simply.

you furrow your brow, confusion and frustration warring within you. “what mistake?”

he sits up, his phone forgotten as he turns to face you fully. “you were drunk and about to do something you’d regret. i didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

his words hit you harder than you expected, a mixture of relief and irritation flooding your system. “i can take care of myself,” you snap, though the conviction in your voice wavers.

“i know you can,” he replies calmly. “but sometimes it’s okay to let someone else look out for you.”

you stare at him, the weight of his words settling over you. there’s an honesty in his gaze that’s disarming, and for the first time tonight, you feel a flicker of gratitude towards him.

“thanks,” you say softly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “anytime.”

the silence that follows is different—less charged, more comfortable. you take another sip of water, the clarity returning to your thoughts as the alcohol’s grip begins to loosen.

after a minute, a sudden surge of boldness washes over you. the silence stretches, filled with unspoken tension. you glance at minghao, his focus seemingly back on his phone, but you can feel the subtle shifts in his attention, the way his eyes flicker toward you when he thinks you aren't looking.

you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. the alcohol has dulled your inhibitions, but the clarity from the water has given you a strange sense of purpose. with a determined exhale, you shift your position, moving to straddle his waist. the motion is deliberate, and it catches him off guard.

minghao's phone slips from his hand, forgotten, as he leans up immediately. one hand instinctively goes to your waist, his grip firm and grounding. his eyes search yours, curiosity and amusement mingling in their depths.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with genuine curiosity.

your heart races, the intensity of the moment making you acutely aware of every sensation—the warmth of his hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the way his breath mingles with yours. you hold onto his shoulders, the contact grounding you as you lean down, bringing your face inches from his.

“if i’m being honest… you look really good tonight—and i’m horny,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of desire and nerves.

minghao's laugh is rich and warm, a sound that reverberates through your body. his grip on your waist tightens slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the charged atmosphere between you. “what happened to you being scared?” he teases, his eyes darkening with interest.

you swallow hard, your gaze dropping to his lips before meeting his eyes again. the closeness is intoxicating, the tension palpable. “well… it’s you,” you whisper, the words hanging in the air between you. “you know what they say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

for a moment, time seems to stand still. the room around you fades away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this electrifying moment. then, as if pulled by an irresistible force, your lips finally meet.

the kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. it starts tentatively, both of you testing the waters, but quickly escalates. it’s hungry, desperate, and filled with a passion that takes you both by surprise. minghao’s hand slides from your waist to your back, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to you as if afraid he might disappear.

the world outside this room ceases to exist. there’s only the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, the way his breath hitches when you press closer. the kiss is messy, your lips and tongues clashing in a dance that feels both frenzied and perfectly synchronized.

minghao shifts beneath you, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, angling you for better access. you moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you and spurring you both on. he breaks the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting heavily.

“y/n,” he murmurs, your name a soft plea on his lips.

you don’t respond with words. instead, you kiss him again, your lips moving with more urgency, more need. the room is filled with the sounds of your shared desire—the rustle of clothing, the soft gasps and moans, the rhythmic beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

minghao’s hands are everywhere, mapping out the curves of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he slips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, the contact of his skin against yours sending a shiver down your spine. you arch into his touch, craving more, needing more.

he flips you onto your back, his movements fluid and purposeful. his lips trail down your neck, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive skin, each touch making you gasp and writhe beneath him. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher until you lift your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head and discard it.

“beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes raking over your exposed skin with a reverence that makes your heart flutter.

you reach for him, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. he helps you, shrugging out of the fabric and tossing it aside. your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch. it’s overwhelming, the intensity of your desire for him, the way every nerve in your body seems to be alight with need.

the kiss deepens, becoming sloppy and filled with need. minghao's lips move against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. his tongue teases your lower lip before delving deeper, tangling with yours in a dance of raw desire. each kiss feels like it's pulling you further into a vortex of passion, leaving you craving more.

his hand slides up your thigh, the touch light and teasing at first, sending shivers down your spine. the heat of his palm against your skin ignites a fire within you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. he pauses for a moment, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just below the hem of your skirt, making you gasp.

minghao's eyes meet yours, a silent question lingering in their depths. you nod, giving him the permission he seeks. with a swift but gentle motion, he flips you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. the weight of him, the warmth of his skin against yours, is both grounding and electrifying.

his lips leave a trail of fire down your neck, each kiss deliberate and sensual. you arch your back, giving him better access as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear. he nips at the skin, eliciting a soft moan from you, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

minghao's hand continues its journey, slipping under your skirt and trailing up the inside of your thigh. his touch is firm but gentle, his fingers exploring the soft skin with a reverence that makes you tremble. he pauses again, his eyes locking with yours as his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your underwear.

“you’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “it’s driving me crazy.”

you bite your lip, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues to tease you. “minghao, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “patience,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your collarbone. “i want to savor this.”

his fingers slide under the fabric, finding your wetness. you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand as he expertly teases you, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. his thumb circles your clit, the pressure light and teasing, driving you to the edge but never quite letting you tip over.

“minghao,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to you as if afraid he might pull away. “i need you.”

he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your reactions. “i’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

he slips a finger inside you, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. you gasp, your body arching into his touch, every nerve ending on fire. he moves slowly at first, his finger exploring your depths with a gentleness that makes you ache for more. he adds another finger, stretching you, filling you, each movement deliberate and controlled.

his lips find yours again, the kiss a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. you lose yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him, every touch and every kiss pushing you closer to the edge. he moves his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still circling your clit, the dual sensations driving you wild.

“please,” you beg, your voice barely a whisper, the need for release consuming you. “i need to come.”

minghao’s eyes meet yours, a flicker of something soft and caring in their depths. “not yet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a barely-there kiss. “i want to watch you fall apart.”

he increases the pace of his fingers, each thrust hitting just the right spot, his thumb applying the perfect amount of pressure to your clit. you feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

“please,” you beg again, your voice a desperate plea.

with a final, skillful flick of his fingers, he pushes you over the edge. you cry out, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing over you in an intense, all-consuming rush. minghao doesn’t stop, his fingers and thumb continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your pleasure, making you see stars.

he watches you the entire time, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. “you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

when you finally come down from the high, your body trembling and spent, he gently withdraws his fingers, his touch soothing as he caresses your thigh. you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and hazy with satisfaction.

“minghao,” you whisper, reaching out to him, needing the connection, the closeness.

he leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “i’m here,” he whispers against your lips. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you pull him closer, your fingers trailing down his chest to the waistband of his pants. he inhales sharply as you undo the button and slide the zipper down, your touch sending a shiver through him.

he stands up briefly, the absence of his warmth leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. his movements are hurried, but there’s a grace to them that you can’t help but admire. the way his muscles flex under his skin as he discards his clothes is mesmerizing, each motion deliberate and efficient. you watch him, your heart pounding in anticipation, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

minghao’s shirt falls to the floor first, followed by his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. the dim light casts shadows across his body, highlighting the defined lines of his muscles. he glances at you, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down. you can’t tear your eyes away, your gaze drinking in every inch of him.

when he’s finally free of his clothes, he stands there for a moment, the weight of the moment hanging between you. the raw vulnerability of being completely exposed, both physically and emotionally, is almost overwhelming. you reach out to him, your fingers trailing lightly over his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch.

he shivers slightly, his breath hitching as your fingers brush against him. he reaches for a condom from his discarded pants, tearing the packet open with his teeth. the sound is loud in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the softness of the moment. he rolls it on with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving yours.

minghao lowers himself over you, his body a comforting weight, his skin warm against yours. he pauses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle and filled with concern.

you nod, your heart swelling with affection and desire. “i’m sure,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions coursing through you.

he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of him pressing against your wetness. he pushes in slowly, the sensation both familiar and entirely new. you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he fills you completely, the stretch a delicious burn. the world narrows down to the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies fit together perfectly.

minghao moves slowly at first, his thrusts measured and controlled. he’s giving you time to adjust, to savor the sensation of being connected in such an intimate way. each movement is deliberate, his eyes locked on yours, watching for your reactions. the intensity of his gaze, the way he’s so attuned to your needs, makes your heart swell with emotion.

as you grow accustomed to the feel of him, you begin to move with him, matching his rhythm. the pace quickens, each thrust deeper and more urgent. the room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—the slap of skin against skin, the soft gasps and moans, the rhythmic pounding of your heart.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more, craving more. he responds with a thrust that hits just the right spot, making you cry out his name. “minghao,” you moan, your nails dragging down his back, leaving faint red trails.

he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, his movements becoming more erratic as he nears his own release. “come for me, y/n,” he whispers against your lips, his voice rough with need.

with a final thrust, you shatter, the orgasm washing over you in waves, leaving you breathless and spent. minghao follows soon after, his release spilling into the condom, his body tensing and then relaxing against yours. the feeling of him filling you, even with the barrier between you, is overwhelmingly intimate, a physical manifestation of the connection you feel.

the room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the party downstairs and the sound of your breathing as you both come down from the high of your shared experience. minghao's weight shifts beside you, his warmth a comforting presence in the cool room.

he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender. his fingers linger for a moment, tracing the curve of your cheek before he speaks. “you okay?” he asks, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, the reality of what just happened beginning to sink in. “yeah,” you breathe, a small smile playing on your lips. “i’m okay.”

relief washes over his features, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours. he pulls away slightly, his movements slow and careful as he disposes of the condom, his actions methodical and precise. you watch him, feeling a strange sense of intimacy in the mundane act.

when he returns to the bed, he lays beside you, his presence a comforting weight. he props himself up on one elbow, his gaze soft as he looks at you. there’s a moment of silence, filled with the unspoken emotions and thoughts swirling between you.

minghao breaks the silence, his voice serious but gentle. “we can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” his words are a request and a plea, the gravity of the situation clear in his eyes.

you take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “whatever,” you mutter, feeling a mix of emotions. the reality of what just happened is complex, a blend of relief, confusion, and something else you can’t quite identify. “thanks for the first time,” you add, your voice softening as you meet his gaze.

a soft laugh escapes his lips, the sound soothing in the quiet room. “anytime,” he replies, his eyes softening as he looks at you. there’s a warmth in his gaze, a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache in a way you can’t quite explain.

you both lay there in silence for a while, the quiet moments stretching out, filled with the unspoken understanding between you. the reality of what just happened is starting to settle, the magnitude of the shift in your relationship becoming clear.

minghao’s fingers find yours, his touch light and reassuring. he squeezes your hand gently, a silent promise that he’s here for you, that this moment meant something to him too. you squeeze back, the simple gesture conveying more than words ever could.

you turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “this changes things, doesn’t it?” you whisper, the question hanging in the air between you.

he nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “yeah, it does,” he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and hope. “but maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

you ponder his words, the truth of them resonating deep within you. the dynamic between you has shifted, the lines between enemies and something more becoming blurred. it’s a lot to take in, but there’s a part of you that feels a strange sense of contentment, a sense of rightness in what just happened.

as the minutes tick by, the silence becomes more comfortable, the tension easing into a shared understanding. you both know that things won’t be the same after tonight, but there’s a sense of anticipation, of curiosity about what the future holds.

minghao’s eyes grow heavy, and you can see the fatigue setting in. “we should probably get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice soft and drowsy.

you nod, feeling the exhaustion creeping into your own limbs. “yeah, you’re right,” you agree, snuggling closer to him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence.

he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his embrace. the feeling of his body against yours is reassuring, a silent promise that he’s here with you, that you’re not alone. you close your eyes, the events of the night replaying in your mind as you drift off to sleep.

the night passes slowly, filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing and the warmth of minghao’s embrace. when you wake in the morning, the first light of dawn filtering through the curtains, you feel a sense of calm, of clarity.

you glance over at minghao, his face peaceful in sleep, and you wonder how this will change things between you. there's a part of you that’s excited, that’s hopeful for what the future holds. but there’s also a realization that you can’t ignore: your current relationship with your boyfriend isn’t right for you.

the thought of breaking up with him has crossed your mind before, but it’s never been as clear as it is now. last night made you realize that you deserve to be with someone who understands you, someone who makes you feel safe and cherished. someone like minghao.

quietly, you slip out of minghao’s embrace, careful not to wake him. you sit up in bed, watching him for a moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing your anxious thoughts. leaning down, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent thank you for everything he’s shown you, for the clarity he’s brought to your life.

minghao stirs slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but he doesn’t wake. you smile softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face before you slip out of bed. the room is cool, and you shiver as you gather your clothes, dressing quickly and quietly.

before you leave, you take one last look at minghao, a sense of determination settling over you. you know what you have to do, and you’re ready to face it. you’re ready to make a change, to pursue something real and meaningful.

as you step out of the room and close the door softly behind you, the reality of what you need to do sinks in. you pull out your phone, staring at the screen for a moment at the spam messages he sent last night.

boyfriend: baby? boyfriend: yo where you at? boyfriend: people are telling me they saw you leave with that guy you claim to hate wtf??? boyfriend: IM WORRIED. IM GOING HOME. YOU BETTER CALL ME!

you sighed, before typing out a message to your boyfriend. it’s not an easy message to send, but it’s necessary.

you: we need to talk. you: i think it’s time for us to go our separate ways.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ — © DELUBOO 2024.

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