#I'm sorry I know this sucks but I couldn't get this out of my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 3 months ago

Text

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing.

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.

Which was little to none.

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through.

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not.

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets.

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is.

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.

Nothing.

You knock again.

Silence.

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time.

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor.

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do.

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore.

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you.

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door.

“—long…”

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t.

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over.

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm.

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in.

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing.

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management.

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?”

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went.

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such.

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait.

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether.

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat.

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer.

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words.

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did.

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.”

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you.

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind.

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.”

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort.

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.”

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.

Something isn’t right.

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him.

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!”

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.”

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education.

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?”

“Have you seen the time?”

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.”

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke.

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.”

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.”

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?”

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class.

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile.

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe.

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.”

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to.

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply.

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic.

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about.

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.

“I’m assuming…” you start.

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks.

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.

You sniffle.

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question.

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that.

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse.

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation.

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises.

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?”

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you?

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?”

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.

His eyes are bloodshot.

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it.

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed.

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him.

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.

Everything. You tried everything.

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday.

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it.

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.

Estimation cannot be perfect.

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

——————

P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

it gets less complicated

promise :/

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM.

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like.

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.

Bright pink sticky note.

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday.

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate.

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught.

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.

You’re off centre. But it’s fine.

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else.

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

— 92/100

It’s Wednesday.

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost.

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before.

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret.

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one.

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night.

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself.

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt.

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether.

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of.

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.

It’s Saturday.

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.”

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.”

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.”

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag.

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait.

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value.

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.

There’s an attached file in the email you draft.

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again.

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you.

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider.

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him.

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.

Clicking on the notification, the email opens.

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home.

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before.

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting.

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains.

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.”

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late.

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?”

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.”

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.”

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly.

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled.

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.”

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?”

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?”

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.

“You know what?” he rasps.

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap.

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint.

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream.

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you.

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?”

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs.

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.”

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.”

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face.

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.”

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?”

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.”

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes.

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.”

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to.

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough.

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face.

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool.

There’s a ding in the background.

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.

Another ding.

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding.

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end.

“Gyu…” you whisper.

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped.

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.

His phone begins to ring again.

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.

The ringing stops.

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.

There’s a ding.

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.

“You should answer.”

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.”

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone.

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort.

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you.

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply.

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing.

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth.

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs.

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too.

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head.

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.

“Do you wanna come in too?”

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing.

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right.

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out.

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest.

“Hm? I think so.”

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not.

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer.

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?”

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway.

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.”

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.”

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive.

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in.

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want.

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.

I might love you too.

You hide that as well. For now.

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early

[Mingyu]: be there in 5

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.

“Good thing I came back early, hm?”

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?”

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you.

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better.

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look.

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.”

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.

“Rumour has it,” he starts.

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.

Mingyu was beautiful either way.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.

“More than okay,” you mumble.

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling.

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly.

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.”

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.”

You can only grumble in mild annoyance.

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.

“I think I might love you too.”

2K notes · View notes

nanaslutt · 10 months ago

Text

Good boy

synopsis: Choso ditched you for his brother. His punishment? Getting tied up and watching you get off.

pairing: Choso x reader

cont: fem reader, established relationship, kinda sub!Choso, restraints, masturbation, cumming untouched, bed humping, oral(r!r), dirty talk, cum eating, praise

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Choso's strong arms pull against the rope that binds them, secured in a way that can even hold him down. He's sat on his knees with a pout on his face while a puddle of pre-cum grows on the floor underneath his twitching cock, a line of the slick connected to the tip of his dick.

Choso has to remember to swallow every so often as he watches you piston your fingers in and out of your cunt, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. His face is all screwed in lust and need, his eyes glossed over and lips swollen and wet from how frequently he licks his tongue over them.

The squelches emanating from your pussy only makes his cock throb even harder. "F-fuuuuck Choso-" You whine, spreading your legs further apart for him, letting him get a better view of the mess you were making between your legs. Your fingers were coated with your wetness and were only getting wetter and wetter with each thrust.

Choso's cock bobbed at the sound of his name leaving your lips. "It hurts, I- I wanna fuck you now," Choso begged, stuttering out his words. He felt like crying, his poor balls felt so heavy and he needed to feel something wrapping around his cock before he lost his mind.

You shook your head, adding your other hand between your legs to start rubbing at your clit. Choso whined, watching astutely as your cunt squeezed around your fingers at the added stimulation. "D-did that feel good?" Choso asked, his eyebrows furrowing together tighter. "You got tighter when you touched yourself there." He explained.

You gasped, rubbing your clit faster while looking up at him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes which were focused on your hole. "Yeah, Cho, f-feels so good." You replied, your pace faltering for a moment as you rubbed your clit perfectly, making your mind go blank.

Choso's breath picked up, he was panting loudly now, squirming on the floor. "I wanna lick it. I- I wanna lick your pussy." Choso cried, licking his lips. "Please, please give me something It hurts, my cock hurts." You almost started to feel bad, but each time your eyes found his desperate face, it was hard to.

He looked so vulnerable, so needy, it was a good look on him. "No Choso, t-this is your punishment for ditching me for your brother." You said, staying adamant in your stance on not letting him fuck you. "I- I know I know I'm sorry, I don't have to put it inside just- please, please give me something." Choso cried, his shoulders flexing as he tried to wiggle out of his restraints.

Looking at him for a few seconds, you decided a little something couldn't hurt. Pulling your fingers out of your cunt, you sat up and crawled toward Choso who sat by the wall. He watched with hungry eyes as you slowly made your way closer to him, leaving your previous spot against the back of the bed.

"You wanna taste me?" You asked, tilting your head at him. You braced yourself on your knees and leaned forward, placing one of your hands on his upper thigh to steady yourself, dangerously close to his cock. Choso nodded hastily before you even finished speaking. "I'm not going to touch you, this is all you get." You told him, making him look into your eyes so you know he understood.

"Okay, thank you, thank you," Choso asked, his eyes dropping to your hand that had just been inside of you. "Open." You instructed, watching him with bated breath as his jaw fell open and his tongue fell out, his eyebrows furrowing together in need. "Good boy." And with that, you pressed your fingers against his tongue, letting him wrap his lips around them as he sucked off your juices, his tongue swirling around them.

A smile graced your features when his eyes rolled back in his head and a loud muffled moan vibrated your fingers. Your mouth fell open in a small o, the feeling of his tongue licking your fingers making you feel a new sense of need between your thighs.

Suddenly, Choso bit down on your fingers, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to catch you off guard, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. You watched Choso's body jerk repeatedly, his eyes fluttering in their sockets before you felt something warm and hot land on your thigh.

"Oh fuck..." You whispered to yourself as Choso whined around your fingers, his tongue still working adamantly around them, trying to prolong your taste as much as he could. Choso's cock bobbed heavily in the air, his balls throbbing as he released his seed all over you and the floor between you.

Your fingers slipped out of his mouth when his chest fell forward, his head landing against your shoulder. "Oh my god Choso, fuck." You whined, your body feeling like it had been set on fire. Choso was cumming. Choso was cumming hands-free, just from tasting you.

You reached out to grab his hot cock at the end of his orgasm, slowly jerking him off, trying to milk every last drop out of him. "Oh- y-your hand-" Choso groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, wishing he could cling onto you with his arms right now. "F-feels good, feels so good keep touching me, please." He begged.

You knew you weren't supposed to touch him, at least according to your own rules right now, but when he begged so sweetly it was hard to ignore him. Choso breathed heavily against the side of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "You like my taste that much, baby?" You asked, running your freehand through his hair, still every so slowly jerking him off.

He nodded right away, a soft "uh-huh" leaving his lips. "You're so cute Choso, so cute." You praised, dropping your eyes to his cock, noticing how his abs still clenched and twitched every so often. He made such a mess, his cum had drenched your thighs and the floor under him.

"You made such a mess though, Cho." You said, gripping his hair tightly between your fingers, pulling him out of the crook of your neck softly. "Look at all this, it's everywhere." You said, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs at the sight as you pretended to act annoyed.

"I- I'll clean it." Choso immediately offered, looking up at you like a puppy as he nodded at his own words. You let go of his cock and wiped your hand clean on your thigh before grabbing his soft face in both of your hands, which he leaned into, his eyes closing as he nuzzled against your palms.

"How are you gonna clean it with your hands tied behind your back?" You asked, waiting for him to suggest a certain idea before you did. Choso was one step ahead of you as he answered, "My mouth, I'll use my mouth." He said confidently, his face staying serious even when you smiled, your eyes raising in surprise.

"Yeah? You gonna lick up your own cum off my thighs?" You asked, a hint of teasing in your tone. Choso nodded right away, already trying to lean down to start when you slid one of your hands behind his head and gripped his scalp, tugging his hair sharply, making him groan as he was stopped in his tracks.

"I'm not gonna make you do it on this hard floor, come lay on the bed with me." You said, your thumb rubbing against his cheek. Choso followed you like a duckling as you grabbed his forearm and pulled him backward with you towards the bed. You helped Choso situate himself between your thighs, his arms stim bound behind his back.

Choso sighed in relief, in this position his cock was pressed firmly against the sheets, making his still prominent arousal get a little relief. Choso nuzzled his head against your thigh as you placed your legs around his shoulders, your hands gathering the stray hairs around his face, making sure his hair didn't get any cum on it.

"Good boy Choso." You praised, looking at him fondly as he licked his first fat stripe against your thigh, taking his tongue back into his mouth and swallowing quickly before he scrunched his nose and opened his mouth for more. His reaction made you giggle. "You don't like the way you taste?" You asked, feeling yourself throb the closer and closer Choso got to licking up the cum that was right next to your throbbing pussy on your inner thigh.

Choso shook his head before swallowing, his hot tongue making your thighs clench as it caressed your skin repeatedly. "I was just thinking I feel bad for you." You laughed at how cute he was beginning before you shook your head and ran your fingers through his hair to recollect it before you held it back again, out of his face.

"I like the way you taste Choso." You said, making his eyes shoot up at you, locking onto yours as he leaned forward and licked another stripe against your leg, the eye contact making you swallow hard. Choso blushed at your shameless words before he shut his eyes and continued cleaning you off.

Your breathing started to pick up when his licks became kisses and bites, and he became less and less focused on cleaning off his cum, the trail of his mouth getting dangerously close to your cunt. You were throbbing at this point, you almost wanted to beg him to touch you. "Choso." You said softly, about to warn him not to touch you per his punishment, but you were unable to do so, instead tightening your hand on his hair, hoping that would get something across to him because there is no way you had the will to tell him not to touch you right now.

Choso looked up at you with lidded eyes, all glossed over and fucked out as he shimmied closer to your cunt, licking the skin just under your pussy lips. The look on your face now was pure lust and unbridled need as you swallowed hard, watching Choso try and be sneaky. Keeping his eyes on you, he stuck his tongue out before he leaned forward and opened his mouth, his tongue falling out, making your breath pause before he closed his eyes and made contact with your cunt.

"Oh fuck Choso-" You whined breathlessly, your head immediately falling back against the sheets at the contact, your grip in his hair loosening as you held him against you using the nape of his neck.

Choso moaned softly, shaking his head back and forth against your pussy as he lapped at your folds, his tongue breaching the entrance of your pussy as he swallowed up your wetness, replacing the bitter taste of his cum with the sweet taste of yours. Because Choso's arms were bound behind his back, the only thing holding him up was your legs that caged him in, so his face was getting buried in your pussy, bringing you the most delicious pressure.

"M-mmmm-" Choso moaned into your cunt, his fat tongue stretching open your walls. "B-bad boy Choso, you're such a bad boy." You scolded, with no real malice behind your words. You were too horny, and his tongue felt too good to care about him breaking your rules. Choso hummed in response before his plush lips found your clit, wrapping around them.

"Oh god- right there Choso- Fuckkkk right there-" You moaned, gripping his hair and the nape of his neck ruthlessly, trying to ground yourself. Choso moaned against your clit, the sound vibrating your pussy, making your body jolt and jerk with the stimulation.

You suddenly noticed how much the bed was shaking, which snapped you out of your own head a bit as you thought you were the one causing the commotion unconsciously. Peeking your head back up, you saw Choso's hips rutting quickly against the sheets, his eyes firmly shut as he ate you out, his tongue batting against your clit expertly.

You watched the way his hands clenched and unclenched in the restraints, the muscles of his back flexing every so often as he tried to fight them to no avail. "Does your cock feel needy again?" you asked, looking down at how sloppily he was working his tongue and lips against you. He nodded, his glossy eyes peeling open to find yours, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you gonna cum like that?" You questioned again, noticing how harshly he was fucking the bed, the frame squeaking underneath him. You blushed hard, from an outsider's perspective it sounded exactly like he was fucking you.

The man between your legs moaned as he nodded, his eyes staying locked on yours save for the occasional fluttering as he ate you out. His answer made your pussy clench around nothing. Choso was so shameless and desperate, you felt like you were gonna cum just from watching him hump the bed like some dog in heat.

"M-make me cum with you." You begged, feeling yourself on the verge of your orgasm. "I'm about t-to cum." Choso felt his balls tighten at your confession. The taste of you flooded his tongue, your smell invading all his senses as he flicked his tongue against your clit with twice the intensity, trying to make you cum before he did.

Suctioning his lips around you harder, your back arched against his face, which Choso followed with his head, not wanting to give you a second without pleasure. "Right there, right there, d-don't stop Choso, don't f-fucking stop-" You whined, your hips now humping against his mouth on their own volition, forcing him to nod his head with you to keep up, increasing the stimulation.

Choso was getting restless, he needed to touch you, needed to feel your body against his hands. He hated these damn restraints. Just before you felt yourself reach the edge, you heard an unintelligible 'snap' before you felt Choso's hands on you. Which is weird because you could've sworn you tied him up- but you couldn't think much about it as his tongue rubbing against you pushed you over the edge.

Choso gripped the fat of your thighs, keeping you flush against him as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. Choso followed only moments after, his cock humping weakly against the sheets as he came for the second time, his cock rubbed raw from the comforter, but that didn't stop him from fucking it roughly, pretending he was releasing his seed inside of you as he came.

Moans of his name falling from between your lips as your thighs snapped around his head only made his orgasm feel that much more intense. You had to practically push him off of you when the shocks of your high died down, his tongue starting to push you into oversensitivity. Peeling your eyes open slowly, you looked down at Choso, who was gripping your thighs, then over to the very expensive red shibari rope, which had been snapped in two.

You opened your mouth to speak but the next thing you knew, Choso's lips were on yours, his softening cum covered cock pressing against your inner thigh as he crushed you with his body, his arms coming between your and the mattress to wrap around your body, keeping you flush against him. All you could do was moan in surprise and gasp into his mouth as he forced his tongue between your lips, your taste flooding your mouth.

After the rushed, needy kiss, Choso pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you by your lips. His face was flushed and sweaty, and he was panting heavily, almost louder than you were. "I don't like that rope." Were the first words out of his mouth, making you giggle. You grabbed his face and pulled it against you, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"That rope was really expensive." You said, looking at him with raised eyebrows. Choso stared at you blankly before he squeezed his arms around you again and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his sweaty body overwhelming yours with heat. "Good. Don't buy another one I don't like it." He said pouting, his body relaxing into yours.

"I won't as long as you don't ditch me for Yuuji anymore." You said, poking the tip of his nose. Choso crinkled it before he nodded and buried his head deeper. "Okay. Sorry." He replied, his breath tickling your collarbones as his breathing returned to normal. "Good boy, Choso. You're a good boy.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso jjk #choso jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #jjk choso #kamo choso #choso

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obsessivevoidkitten · 10 months ago

Text

Feeding

Male Half-Demon Yandere x Gender Neutral Vampire Reader CW: Noncon, blood drinking, biting/cutting for blood, making out, drugged sex, drugged reader, forced addiction, overstimulation, reader fucked well and truly out of their mind whilst high on demon blood, aftercare, general yandere behavior Word count: 1.6k (Sorry this took forever. The image of reader sitting on dick while sucking blood from a wrist was living rent free in my head and I had to write this. Written on my phone, hopefully I fixed all the weird formatting and typos.)

The full moon shone brightly in the clear winter night. With each exhale, your breath plumed out visibly. The shadows of trees stretched long and spindly, grasping for a material world they were incapable of grabbing hold of. You hid amongst the bushes, silently watching the small bar in front of you. It was a secluded place. Quiet and down the road from anything else. Perfect for a person to grab a drink. Even a vampire like yourself. This was your first night in this town, but there were almost always places like this to slake your thirst.

Wait for a drunk customer to come stumbling out and nab them to have a drink of your own. Then, if you needed to, use your hypnotic powers to make them think it was all a dream.

That's what you had intended tonight. But then you caught a whiff of a human that smelled much more tempting than any other you had ever encountered.

The bartender. Your sharp ears could pick up his name even from outside. Wade. Not that you needed to bother knowing it.

You decided to wait for the last lingering patron to leave the bar before sneaking in and making your move. It took a few hours, and your joints grew stiff in the cold, but finally, the bartender was alone, and you could make your move. You were practically salivating as you slipped into the bar, and his scent hit you more directly. You couldn't wait to taste what waited in his veins. Luckily, you didn't have to.

"Sorry, we've just closed," he said as he heard you enter.

With superhuman speed, you rushed behind him, barely having time to note the surprised expression on his face.

You wasted no time on pleasantries and sank your fangs into his neck.

Instantly, you were lost in his flavor. His blood was glorious. But after one drink, your eyes glazed and your thoughts were foggy.

He plucked you off of him easily, and you fell to the floor, dizzy and confused but yearning for more of him. You were so thirsty. A mild sense of euphoria washed over you, but your body felt weak and wobbly.

Wade stared down at you, smirking. His brown hair turned silver, small black horns sprouted from his forehead, and his hazel eyes glowed red.

"What's wrong? Bit off more than you could chew?"

Not much blood had been consumed, so you started to get to your feet, but Wade wanted you nice and helpless. He rubbed his fingers to the bite mark you had left and shoved his fingers into your mouth and smeared the drug on your tongue. You immediately slumped against the counter.

He went and locked up the bar before returning to your side and administering another hit of his blood. You eagerly drank it up. It was too irresistible.

Then he gently led you downstairs where he apparently lived.

"Didn't realize I was part demon or didn’t know demon blood was like a narcotic? Maybe you didn't know either of those..."

He tossed you on the bed rather unceremoniously.

"Thought you were gonna get an easy meal, but you're gonna feed me too!"

Assuming that he ate beings with magic, you looked up at him with a horrified expression and scrambled to get off the bed. He stopped you and pushed you back.

"I'm nourished by intoxication and addiction the way sex and lust nourishes an incubus," he explained, having noted the fear on your face.

Though you still had a fierce thirst for his blood, you weren't addicted. Yet. Just significantly increased blood cravings. You had the presence of mind to know what he intended, and you didn't want to be a captive.

"You can't do this!"

The effects of his blood on your body were rapidly wearing off. It had only been a small amount. You could use your speed to zip awa-

"I can do whatever I want to a little leech like you~"

Wade pinned you on the bed and used the sharp nail of his thumb to slice his wrist before shoving his wrist to your mouth. You tried to turn away and keep your mouth closed, but you could feel the warm blood tingle your lips, and the smell was all-encompassing. Tired of your struggles, he smacked you hard across the cheek. You could have shrugged off a strike from a normal human, but he had demonic strength. As he had anticipated, you cried out in pain. With your mouth open, he jammed his bloody wrist right into your mouth.

Once a drop had touched your tongue for the third time that night, all your resolve melted away. You relaxed under him and greedily lapped at his wrist. Now that it was in you, you needed more.

As you gave into your dark desires and fed off Wade, he fed off the intoxication and the budding addiction growing inside you.

But the whole situation had his cock straining painfully in his jeans.

He maneuvered your clothes off as well as his, but your attention was focused on your meal. You whimpered and grabbed for his arm as he pulled it away to lube up his cock. Just because he was doing this for nourishment didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. Besides, being all cute and needy for his blood made you look far too tempting for the half-demon.

He pulled you into his lap and slid his thick cock into you.

Wade put his arm up to you so you could suckle from his wrist as he slowly fucked into you. A large demonic cock like Wade's would have stretched and hurt the hole of any human, but you were far more durable. In fact, it felt quite nice. His blood seemed to heighten pleasurable sensations while reducing unpleasant ones.

You moaned softly as you fed.

"That's it, take alllll you want babe. I regenerate faster than you can drink."

It must have been true. His wound had healed and you had to bite his wrist to draw more blood. He didn't seem to mind.

The demon kissed your neck and sucked it softly as he continued pumping into you. Never too hard to interrupt your meal.

He kept the slow and considerate pace until you had finished. Blood was smeared all over the lower half of your face, your eyes glossy and half lidded. You were barely cognizant of your surroundings anymore. All you knew was that you felt warm, happy, relaxed and, for the first time since you had turned, alive.

Wade angled your face towards him and kissed you deeply from behind, enjoying the taste of blood from your lips and the rush of energy he got from getting you high. He brushed his tongue against your fangs to draw blood so you could suck it while the two of you made out sloppily. The half-demon broke the kiss, a sanguine string of saliva and blood connected your lips for a moment. Wade hastened the tempo of his thrusts into you as his mind raced over the implications of having you.

A human would have died from just a drink of demon's blood. That's why he blended each bottle of booze in his bar with but a single drop. Just enough to subconsciously coax humans to crave coming back to his bar and give Wade a bit more intoxication to sustain himself. But he didn't have to hold back with you at all.

Rapturous moans left your body as your pleasure reached its zenith. Your normally frighteningly pale face was actually flushed.

"You enjoying yourself?" Wade smirked and kept going.

You could only weep silently as the overwhelming sensations from the drug and sex mingled into an overwhelming wave of ecstasy bearing down brutally upon you.

With supernatural stamina he kept going for hours, he readministered his blood as needed. Every time he made you cum you whimpered. Each orgasm seemed to hold within it a greater and greater threat of throwing you off the brink of sanity and shattering your mind.

By the end of it, when he had finally had enough after filling you with cum over and over again, you were a shaky drooling mess. His demonic features faded away as he picked you up. Then he took you to the tub and bathed you gently, getting all the dried blood off your face and cleaning up all the semen leaking from your hole.

"Sorry I had to give you so much. Have to get you hooked on it."

Wade picked you up and wrapped you in a soft towel. You were too out of it to respond.

"The crashes aren't bad though at least. Extreme cravings but no life threatening illness or anything."

He kissed your forehead and tucked you in before getting under the covers and spooning you.

"You're gonna love it here I promise. All the blood you want. I'm not just keeping you here to feed me, I could see glimpses inside your mind when your inebriation nourished me."

The half-demon ran a hand soothingly up and down your side.

"I know we're compatible lovers. You'll see."

You could hear his words but could just barely process them.

"B-but.." You protested weakly.

"Hush now. You need to rest."

He put his arm around your waist and held you protectively. It was so much easier to just let sleep claim you than it was to resist.

Wade stayed up far longer though. All the thoughts of the wonderful life you two would share together running through his head and keeping him awake. It would be amazing. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

He'd treat you so well and make sure his little vampire was always happy. And he'd keep you hopelessly addicted to his blood. You'd be so helpless and dependent on him that you'd simply never be able to escape.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #yandere boyfriend #yandere #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere demon #yandere half-demon #vampire reader #My OC Wade

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ssahotchnerr · 7 months ago

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fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe

it's a date

there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3

You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.

Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:

A low whistle exited Morgan.

"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.

Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.

"Hot date?"

"You could say that."

Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.

"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.

"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."

"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."

The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.

As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.

Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.

"That bad?"

You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."

There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.

"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."

That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"

"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."

"Which one?"

"Shrek."

Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.

"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.

"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."

Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.

"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.

"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.

The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.

"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.

"What about me?"

"Who's going to make it up to you?"

"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.

"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."

A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"

"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."

All yours. He could get used to that.

"It's a date."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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vultbae · 6 months ago

Text

negroni ✩

art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: After winning against Patrick, Art takes the night off to grab a few drinks at the Ritz Carlton lobby bar. There, he meets a profound admirer.

Things go wrong with the girl who bought him a Negroni.

↳ warnings: fingering (minors dni), age gap (reader is 22), manipulation, infidelity, angst towards end.

↳ extra warnings: english is not my first language pookies + my first fic + yall I'm messyy so I added drama out of nowhere. if u read this I love u thank u for giving me a chance

word count: 4.9k

✩

"Excuse me, no smoking."

The blonde man lifts his chin to encounter a young waitress warning him about the cigarette dangling off his mouth. His middle and index fingers immediately approach the cigarette and gradually pull the filtered end from between his lips. "Sorry." Art frankly apologizes.

The waitress's purposeful avoidance of directly looking at him makes Art borderline giggle. He can't help but discreetly give her a comprehensive look; the girl is attractive, with velvety skin that impersonates caramel and peaceful facial features. He shushes all the pushy thoughts resembling the waitress to his wife staying upstairs. He is not that desperate, plus, everyone knows he is married to the Tashi Duncan.

Art audibly clears his throat and articulates before the young woman strolls away, "Can you get me a Negroni, please?" He requests, showcasing a courteous smile. The woman nods.

He didn't even realize when he positioned the cigarette between his lips. He had been anxiously waiting for an instance when he could be alone -at least since the match against Patrick. Tashi cheerfully agreed to let him descend to the lobby bar to grab a few drinks.

✩

Art had been attentively scanning his frame on the wide mirror and adjusting strands and strands of hair as he paid more attention to his hairstyle; his somber eyes descended from his impeccable hair to the unfastened buttons of his seersucker shirt, revealing a fraction of silk-like, gloomy skin from chest to lower stomach, his well-grooved muscles casting shadows under the bathroom's dim yellow lighting.

"I'm going out!" Art shouted from the bathroom as he fastened the remaining buttons of his shirt.

From the corner of his eye, he sensed Tashi approaching the bathroom doorframe and standing by it. Art tilted his head up to encounter Tashi, his wife, silently grinning, dressed in a beautiful pearl-white silk robe, "I won't be gone for more than an hour-

"It's fine," Tashi interrupted. "I'll watch a movie with Lily. We can talk about it later."

Art nodded. His eyes stared at her with minor fascination. Tashi couldn't figure out why, but the feral spark on Art's orbs evaporated. She walked away.

Art slightly opened his mouth to say something but suddenly cut himself off, lips slamming together. He didn't say anything. He allowed the slim figure of his wife to vanish from his eyesight. He authorized himself to go out alone for the first time in years and think about his relationship with Tashi and tennis -if, at this point, they were not equal. And his relationship with Patrick, of course.

After today, he felt things he hadn't felt in a while.

✩

An insistent tap on his shoulder provokes Art to flinch and abruptly land on earth again.

"Excuse me, Negroni..?" Another waiter says in a quivering voice—a statement rather than a question—hardly maintaining eye contact. He is holding a tiny round silver tray with a bloody-looking Negroni sitting on it.

Before the amateur waiter can shakily grasp the crystal glass to place it on Art's table, Art raises his arm and moves the Negroni himself. As soon as he places the glass on the marmol table's surface, his long fingers seize the thin wedge of orange embellishing the glass, bringing it to his lips and sucking on it instantly.

He doesn't realize that the one time he and the waiter are maintaining eye contact is while he sucks on a slice of orange -slowly.

"Thank you." Art says, dragging the wedge out of his mouth, detecting the scarcity of color on the waiter's facial canvas. "Why is he so pale?" Art thinks. The meddling stare from the waiter endures for maybe five seconds before Art frowns his eyebrows slightly in confusion; the poor guy nearly jogs away from Art's table.

Does he carry that much power over people? It has been long since Art calculatedly flirted with or attempted to gain someone's attention. To be accurate, since Tashi entered his life. He has officially lost the "open-to-the-public" charming spark and neglected his intrinsically flirty side.

But today, for some reason, he feels different than usual. Not that he is trying to test it...

The Ritz lobby bar is moderately quiet. Art peeks at a few travelers relaxing with their baggage as they sip cocktails in miniature glasses and couples drinking -"probably pre-gaming before a night out," Art assumes. His gaze disembarks over two guys in their premature 20s, brunette, and blonde, chuckling and vividly chitchatting about topics he can't overhear properly. Art is hooked to the scenario in front of him as he stares enthusiastically: it bitterly reminds him of his friendship with Patrick, whom he hasn't heard of since the match.

As he finds himself —once again— daydreaming about what once was, Art takes decent-sized sips of his Negroni, with his right hand hugging the crystal glass just right. He is sitting on one of the many hickory brown leather armchairs dispersed across the bar, manspreading as his left hand lays over his lap.

Suddenly, a personal reflection pops into his mind like a light bulb unexpectedly turning on; what is he doing? Sitting submerged in loneliness in a 5-star hotel lobby bar will not change anything. It simply won't. He would rather go back to the suite and have some pleasing fucking sleep. He is feeling tired, and confused, and depressed, and—

Well, If anything, people who recognize him could come and disturb his night.

Art locks eyesight with the first waiter wandering across his vision field; he pitches a writing motion with his hand and requests the bill. As the waiter walks in his direction, he chugs down the leftover sips of cocktail in the glass.

"Bill?" Another waiter wearing a burgundy uniform asks Art. The tennis player shakes his head up and down, murmuring a yes please, "Don't worry, on the house."

"I can afford it." Art stresses, with a robust sarcastic undertone tinting his voice tone while attempting to maintain the most benevolent smile on his catalog.

The waiter chuckles in exaggerated glee. "I know, Mr. Donaldson. Your bill has been cleared by another customer," he clarifies, standing in front of Art with the straightest stance and hands intertwined in the manifestation of hospitality. The waiter clears his throat, "Actually, by the young woman over there," and discreetly points his finger at the stools by the bar gantry.

Art's gaze dashes over to a woman standing by the bar gantry. He can only see her back, not her complete complexion. Although he has internally accepted this demeanor as improper, he allows his eyes to scan over the woman's silhouette freely, lingering a little longer on her legs. In the background, he can faintly attend to the waiter talking about hotel-specific branch issues and how stays such as his and Tashi's benefit the hotel's branding -isn't this the Ritz Carlton?

"Yes, I agree." Art blurts out as soon as he realizes the waiter has concluded his monologue, his gaze glued to the enigmatic female standing five meters away from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Donaldson. Have a great night." Just as Art opened his mouth to greet him in return, the waiter had already shifted on his feet to approach another table.

Art reevaluates what he is about to do. Should he greet her, thank her, or gently communicate how unmannered it can be to buy a married man a drink?

But also, what if it's an obsessed groupie attempting to instigate drama?

It doesn't matter. Buying Art Donaldson a drink is disrespectful. Literally everyone —quite literally everyone— who knows Donaldson knows he is married to Tashi Duncan!

Come on, a woman, unattended in a bar, buying me a drink? Art thinks.Of course, she has hidden intentions, he reassures himself. Art shifts on the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees, still pondering whether he should approach her.

Why isn't he simply disregarding this and walking away?

He hadn't felt so much excitement about something so childish in a while. It felt like being nineteen again. After hugging Patrick today, he sensed a heartwarming relief regarding Tashi cheating on him. But, on the other hand, he's a fucking human.

Fuck it. He just wants to chat with the girl and perhaps communicate that she shouldn't do that again. Right, that's it.

Art picks up his belongings and strides towards her.

"Hey, sorry..." Art speaks, dragging the stool beside the woman and grinning warily at her. His soothing, recognizable tone of voice instantly captures her attention.

Art expected many things, but not a drop-dead gorgeous woman. A girl. She looks...young— not underage kind of young, but unquestionably not over twenty-five. On the other hand, as a well-known tennis player, he's had plenty of exquisite-looking women begging for attention; Tashi herself is stunning. Somehow, this woman left his lungs tightening for a sizzling second, which is concerning.

Plus, her aroma. Jesus, the scent, Art thinks. He would continuously go weak on the knees when Tashi wore that damn tangy, dark cherry fragrance she had. He immediately identified the distinct smell.

"Mr. Donaldson, oh my god..." The girl's voice pitches high, and she extends her right hand in his stomach direction as if she had been rehearsing for this moment. "I didn't believe you would accept the drink," she adds enthusiastically.

Her voice is too harmonious for his ears.

Art stretches his hand and shakes hers. "Well, I didn't." Art retorts, unconsciously smirking at the girl's harmless bliss, "I was pretty much obligated to accept the free Negroni."

"Well, either way, I am honored," she says with a slight shrug and giggles, "Names Y/n; by the way, very nice to meet you, Mr. Donaldson. Big fan of yours"

"Nice to meet you too, Y/n," Art unpretentiously expresses. His facial expression goes abruptly blank as he realizes he might be snitching on himself. "Uh, Y/n, I don't wanna sound rude, but what you did... with the drink," he struggles to word it nicely, worrying about coming out as unpolite. He laboriously swallows as Y/n raises her eyebrows, expectant. "You shouldn't buy drinks to married men," he concludes.

Y/n lets out a gigantic gasp, "Oh my- this is so embarrassing," her hands fly over to her mouth, covering it in mortification, "I am so sorry, Mr. Donaldson-

"Please, call me Art," Art interrupts, a smirk rising on his face.

"Well, Art," Y/n corrects herself, now speaking with a mischievous undertone, still with an infectious grin plastered on her face. "I go to Stanford. I couldn't stop hearing about you —your skills. Well, I grew up in a household of tennis enthusiasts, and I, myself, am a tennis player. I just wanted to show my appreciation for what you've done for the tennis culture."

Art's cheeks feel hot. Heck, they are burning.

"Oh.." he mumbles, mainly to himself out of amazement.

"I would never, don't worry, Mr. Donaldson- I mean, Art." Y/n reassures, emphasizing the never. But as she justified herself, a sad half smile crooked on her plump lips, "I mean... No one can deny you are very handsome, but I am a respectful woman-"

He unmistakably heard the last sentence but will bypass it for his mental stability. "It's fine, Y/n." Again, he runs over her words, interrupting, "I should be apologizing; I don't want to come across as an entitled asshole."

For some reason, Art can't stop feeding the conversation. You are a fucking horndog, Art internally insults himself.

"Let me buy you a drink as an apology," Art says bluntly, requesting clearance but simultaneously demanding. Y/n, on the other hand, has her eyes set on the blonde man in front of her, both gazes perforating each other. "I mean, if you are of age.."

She giggles.

"Twenty-two. Took a gap year," the girl admits, "and I wouldn't mind a Negroni," she adds, now faking a nonchalant accent.

Y/n can hardly believe the circumstances she has put herself in. She observes the man standing before her, deftly moving from how he calls the server to how he licks his lips after ordering the Negroni. He's so fucking hot, she thinks. She had only seen him through flat screens and once attended one of the numerous lectures he gave back on campus.

But no, Y/n wasn't an obsessive stalker. Earlier that day, she had been at the New Rochelle Tennis Club with her father and the new newbie guy he was coaching —she can't even recall his name. Long story short, the guy had asked her on a date, and as a grandiose concurrency, Y/n had suggested the Ritz —they serve finger-licking cosmopolitans at their bar. It wasn't until she reached twenty minutes earlier by mistake that she contemplated bailing on her plans. Why? Because she laid eyes on the mouthwatering blonde man sitting by himself, ingesting a depressing ass-looking Negroni.

She knew it was a hit or miss. But she would rather miss if it came to the possibility of messing around with the man of her most soaked dreams.

Y/n's nostrils pleasingly burn as she inhales a warmish, spicy fragrance emanating from Art's clothes and skin. She can't dodge the impulse to frequently peek at the opening of his shirt, revealing milky skin. Her breathing becomes erratic just by fantasizing about him without the fucking seersucker shirt. She knows he's fucking ripped.

Y/n chews on the bottom of her lip anxiously, contemplating her words. "By the way, what you did today was insane."

Art arches a brow. "You mean playing tennis?"

"That wasn't even tennis; that was an entirely different game," Y/n responds as if Art had offended her. "It felt as if the court was entirely yours," she overpraises him, feeling rewarded by the minuscule giggles escaping from Art's lips.

Art feels his heart warm up at the familiar sentence choice. "It is not a big deal, just a good tennis match," he elucidates.

She rolls her eyes. "Sure... or maybe you are just too skilled for other players." Y/n softly laughs.

Art bits back the tiniest groan of frustration. He feels his dick hardening underneath the light-washed denim jeans he's wearing. He tries to comprehend if it is because of the sudden sensual undertone in her delicate voice, her unmistakable submissive look penetrated deep into her big eyes, or the fact that Tashi had not touched him below the hipline in months and turned him into a precocious motherfucker. Or it could be the alcohol making him horny. He hadn't noticed before how tight her clothing was —it took one swift glimpse at her body for Art to see her thighs spilling out of the hem of the strapless mini-dress. It took another one to realize she was now gently caressing his arm.

Art was convinced there was nothing left to wipe the carefully crafted agitated expression from his face. "Could be, yeah," he says, subsequently coughing to avoid strangling on his own spit. "I don't want to be seen as some kind of God."

"Well, you move like one," Y/n affirms, chuckling at her own filthy sentence, her fingers playfully stirring the brand-new Negroni sitting on the bar table with the cocktail straw. She licks her lips, "You know what I mean."

Bullshit. There is no way this girl doesn't want to fuck.

She dodges eye contact, but there is a peculiar shift in the air, and a smirk exponentially extends her lips.

"I know what you mean." Art snaps back, incapable of looking away from the cocktail straw now entrapped in between her glossy lips.

His muscles and head feel more lightweight, but his ocean eyes remain entirely tied to her outline.

Their bodies have shuffled negligibly closer—inappropriately closer. Art senses warmness filling his face from the subtle friction of their knees: the coarse texture of his denim and Y/n's smooth, bare skin.

From her peripheral vision, Y/n glimpses a security guard patrolling the hotel lobby. She makes eye contact with the robust man for a split second, whose facial expression reshapes in dull stunner as he peeks at who's sitting next to her.

Y/n sets her crystal glass on the bar counter. "Thank you so much for the drink."

"Wait. Are you leaving?" Art questions, with feigned etiquette that reeks of desperation.

Y/n's eyes dart to the man standing near their stools. Art tracks her gaze and sighs. "You already gifted me minutes of your time and a Negroni. That's enough coming from Art Donaldson."

Art hesitates. "They are not in my business." He practically whines, progressively revealing his despair to the young woman sitting before him.

"I still need to Uber home," Y/n excuses, pouting at her words. "A woman can't be alone that late-

"I can drive you."

✩

The drive is around twenty-five minutes.

Y/n quietly sits in the copilot seat of Art's Bentley Bentayga. By her left side, Art grips the steering wheel confidently, his fingers switching effortlessly over the controls as they drive through the streets of the suburban county of Westchester. She peers through the shadowy window glass on her side —there's a winter storm outside.

"How many days are you staying in Westchester?" Y/n asks while her gaze stays fixed on the passing scenery framed by the window.

Art clicks his tongue. "Not much. Most likely leaving tomorrow morning."

"Did you do anything fun around the county?"

"Well, a rich-people county isn't the most amusing place to visit." Art jokes, speaking with a devilish tease.

Y/n doesn't reply. Instead, her eyes quickly flicker to his silhouette under the fuzzy skyglow leaking through the car's transparencies. Art's blonde hair captures the faint illumination beautifully, each strand seeming to shimmer under the dim light. His muscles tighten at—

Red light.

When the car stops, Art twists his head to the right, his and her gazes collapsing. He runs his tongue over his upper lip before talking, "You mentioned something earlier..." he begins to say.

In the stillness of the moment, the only sound is the soft hum of the engine idling.

"I mentioned many things," Y/n corrects.

A faint crease of discomfort crosses Art's brow, and he shifts slightly on the red leather seat. Y/n examines each of his subtle hip and torso motions as he gets rid of the discomfort. Finally, again sitting still, he resumes. "Let me be specific. You mentioned I am handsome."

A sudden warmth spreads across her cheeks, an unmistakable flush of embarrassment.

"I don't think this is appropriate."

"I don't think neither of us cares about what's appropriate anymore."

It feels as if the world has stopped for Y/n. It feels as if a spell had caught both of them, leaving them besotted, and fucking horny, and awaiting the other to give the—

Green light.

"I think there's a parking lot next to a store that shut down recently 3 minutes away."

That's all Y/n says. Art presses down the gas pedal and tightens his grip on the wheel to suppress some exotic sensations that rocket down his spine.

Raindrops splatter against the windshield and the car's roof, and the blonde guy continues to drive through a road of infinite rain-soaked side trees swaying in the wind's rhythm and closed shops.

It takes four minutes and fifty seconds to reach a gigantic parking lot beside what once was a Dollar Tree. Although Y/n can scarcely appreciate the space due to the weather conditions and the tinted glass, she can see some faded, bright yellow parking lines now covered in dirt and droplets of rain. The place is totally empty.

Y/n's heart sprints ten times faster when the engine settles into a contented hum. Goosebumps flourish on her skin as serenity inundates the car interior—complete silence. The SUV has parked on a random corner.

And she doesn't want to look in Art's direction because she knows he's already looking.

She plays it credulously. "I think this is a great place to talk in peace," Y/n murmurs, finally turning her head towards him.

The fleeting moment her eyes cross with his evokes a sense of vulnerability for the girl. Art's orbs shamelessly spark with a glimmer of mischief, like a predator stalking its prey. The unbridled desire is nowhere near disguised now, and Y/n knows the guy won't keep playing the innocent role anymore. Is buying him a drink disrespectful? Bullshit. But she's grateful the poor, troubled man will have some fun. She knew he'd surrender faster than expected.

Yeah. Art had lifted the white flag as soon as he reached out a hand to grasp the door handle of his sexy ass Bentayga to open it for Y/n, and his eyes had flown by instinct to the girl's ass when she was hopping on his car.

Now, he can't tear his eyes off her lips.

"I've had a fucked up day." Art suddenly breathes out. There's a steady rise and fall of his chest, but Y/n can tell he's struggling to maintain it. His eyes ascend to lock in with hers. "I want to forget who the fuck I am."

Y/n is drowning in the noise of her own accelerated heartbeat. "I can help you." Y/n's words shoot out in submission, haltingly batting her eyelashes at him.

It's humorous mainly because she has no idea what is happening in his life. She doesn't know the mess between Tashi and Patrick; the fact that Tashi allegedly fucked Pa—well, whatever. Y/n doesn't know. She understands the man is disturbed, though, because the instant she stepped inside the luxurious lobby of the Ritz Carlton, she could tell the man had no emotion on his face. She recalled watching his matches when she was younger, and one thing about Art Donaldson was the radiant vitality his presence brought to any room he was in.

It's evident that the radiance was gone. For whatever reason.

Their bodies draw closer, the only barrier being the gear stick and seat partition between them. Y/n can feel Art's warm breath clashing against her lips, a slightly intoxicating and crisp scent of gin climbing to her nostrils. She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue before grabbing Art by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into her mouth. He briefly widens his eyes but reciprocates instantly.

He is the sort of kisser who goes slowly but deepens as much as possible, inserting his tongue everywhere attainable. Y/n tastes good and, heck, excellent —sweet and spicy, as if she chewed cinnamon gum before assaulting his mouth. The flavor and the satiny texture of her lips push him to near insanity; Art pumps his tongue in and out, desperately, sweeping against hers because of the faint, delicate moans leaking from her side every time he does it —it makes him vertiginous.

It isn't until Y/n sucks on his lower lip that he splits off to breathe. "No marks." Art forewarns with his face dropped in soberness, heavily panting.

He discerns something shifting inside of him when Y/n's beautiful features soften for a beat, casting a veil of a peculiar sentiment he's too emotionally dumb to interpret —bitterness? sadness? He can't tell. The fuzzy thoughts fade when her lips attack again, parting his with ease, allowing her tongue to slip inside. "Shut up." Y/n spits lowly between kisses.

A couple of sizzling minutes of pure, obscene french kissing pass before Art realizes the pressure underneath the light-washed denim over his crotch is tormenting him. His left-hand glides over Y/n's thigh and gently squeezes, letting her know he needs to move forward. At this point, he has readjusted the position of his body over the red leather seat, facing Y/n straight; the hand resting over her thigh gradually shoves the hem of the mini-dress upwards, revealing more skin and dangerously approaching her pussy.

The tempo of Y/n's kisses becomes unsteady with the sensation of his physical touch near such an intimate area. It felt weirdly mortifying for her to be this wet this early —her pussy felt slippery and willing to take whatever Art proposed. She breaks off the kiss out of involuntary reflex, with her gaze immediately descending on Art's left hand, too big for her, and skillfully positioning the lace of the light-pink panties aside.

If Art was a magician and opening her legs was a challenging magic trick, goddamn, he'd be a good magician. Y/n had no idea how, in such an undersized space, her legs had managed to spread that wide. The specific moment when Art's middle finger comes in contact with her wetness is a blur, but the filthy, low-pitched groan that his mouth emits as the first finger rubs her pussy lips will never be forgotten. Y/n unconsciously rocks her hips in search of more friction-

"Stay still." Art demands, chest rapidly going up and down. Although he attempts to sound demanding, his voice is weak in want and ridiculously desperate. Y/n's cheeks flame up when he begins toying with her clit, rubbing slow circles, with an equally attractive and irritating cocky grin resting over his face.

But she wants that one finger to go in. Y/n sighs in eagerness, muttering a series of pleasepleasepleases.

"Art..." Y/n mutters between choked moans, bucking her hips forward into his hand. Art gazes at her, intoxicated by her facial expressions and the mild tone of her voice, delivering such nasty noises. His eyes don't leave Y/n's face as he thrusts his middle finger past her slick folds. He feels his dick twitch at her exaggerated facial response.

What was one finger quickly became two, picking up their speed and twirling inside, hitting the sweetest spot. "Not a virgin, right? " Art abruptly asks, terrified but astonished at the tightness her pussy held, clenching down on his digits and squeezing.

"No... oh my god—" Y/n yelps, hardly managing to articulate words as his fingers keep steadily penetrating her pussy.

Y/n tilts her head back and instantly feels a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on her jaw; Art is nearly over her body, working his way downstairs and upstairs, too. The accelerated rhythm of his fingering ceases for a hot second as his available hand reaches her chest to unashamedly pull down the neckline of Y/n's mini-dress, freeing her tits and letting them bounce out of the expensive cloth.

As a sheer coincidence and dissolving in pleasure, Y/n's eyesight dismounts in one of the tall buildings in front of the parking lot. What she sees is practically ironic. An immense billboard with Art's face crammed inside, by his side Tashi Duncan's iconic facial features, and an oversized Aston Martin logo. "Game Changer," the thing reads. Funny, she thinks. He is a game changer, though —not sure if he is the same kind Aston Martin broadcasts.

But seeing his face and Tashi's painfully reminds her the man is not hers.

In fact, the man has a whole wife.

"Fuck me." Y/n requests, still a complete mess, moaning, arching her back, breathless.

And nothing happened where she thought the fire test lay. Art obliged. In fact, he seemed enthusiastic. He wants to make her his. Y/n modestly smiled at the thought.

"Yes... fuck, yeah." With a deft hand, he reaches down and unfastens the button of his pants; he eases the zipper down, and the faint sound of it sliding makes Y/n nauseated of anticipation.

Art reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a beautiful, black leather wallet. He flips it open, his brows furrowing in concentration as he sifts through its contents. With a muttered curse under his breath, he begins to dig deeper; Y/n doesn't understand what's happening —is he searching for a condom?

After eternal seconds, the blonde guy lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head, resigned.

Y/n sits beside him awkwardly, unhurriedly pulling up the neckline of her dress, covering her now shivering body.

"...So?" she questions.

He remains silent.

"I don't have condoms."

"I'm on the pill." Y/n offers.

The look Art shoots at Y/n isn't gracious. In fact, it triggers a big spark of frustration on his face, eyebrows knitting together in a light scowl as he looks at her incredulously.

Then it turns worse when, by mistake, his gaze falls on the same billboard Y/n had seen earlier.

"I can't. Sorry."

Y/n slowly closes her legs and adjusts her neckline. "Why?"

Art's eyes fall to his lap. "Well, starting from the fact I have a family-

Y/n interrupts. "Well, you didn't seem to care when you offered to drive a total stranger."

It was most likely the sassiness and the blaming in her voice that unexpectedly threw him off. Really threw him off.

"That's none of your business. I just took the opportunity of a warm hole."

In one swift, rampant movement, her hand connects with his cheek with a resounding crack, the sound echoing through the air like a crash. His head jerks to the side. A slap.

She had fucking slapped him.

With a trembling breath, Y/n doesn't think twice before she pushes open with unmeasured force the door of Art's fucking ugly car —or that's how she thinks of it now. The storm still persists, rain pouring down in sheets. Tears accumulate over her eyes as she steps out into the downpour, grabbing her purse tightly.

"Hey, hold on..."

She completely ignores Art's words, which get easily lost in the roar of the rain.

But she turns to face him one last time, sitting on the pilot seat, visibly ashamed of himself —and still with unbuttoned pants.

"Fuck you. I hope you lose every single fucking tennis match." And with a forceful push, she slams the car door shut.

As Y/n steps away from the vehicle, leaving a splash in the puddles on the floor, she wishes the man she met two hours ago had run after her and begged forgiveness. But of course, he didn't. Instead, she watched as the vehicle got started again and drove past her, quickly rejoining the road and disappearing in the darkness.

✩

#art donaldson smut #challengers fic #challengers smut #challengers fanfic #art donaldson imagine #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #smut #fanfic #imagine #mike faist #challengers

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brown-bi-beautiful · 20 days ago

Text

BABY BOY

College au

Pairing: nerd! Jungkook x fuckgirl! reader

MINORS DNI

Genre: strangers to lovers? smut, fluff, a little angst

Words: 21.4k

Summary : You are bored with all of the boys on your campus and now you want the new toy except...the new toy doesn't want you

Warnings: Jungkook hates reader at the beginning 😭😭😭, Jungkook is an asshole to her, reader and her friends are low-key mean girls, reader and her friends objectify Jungkook a lot (red flag right there), reader is kind of the s word, casual slutshaming, angst (but it's like very tolerable), SMUT [MASTURBATION (Male, ORAL REC. (Both male and female), Fingering, JUNGKOOK'S DICK NEEDS A WARNING BY ITSELF (spoiler alert: ITS BIG AND OC's OBSESSED), Protected sex (be responsible kids)], FLUFFFFFF.

A/n: OMG.... It has been a while. Honestly work was so hard this past year and on top of everything i went through a very bad break up due to which I wasn't really in the mood of writing anymore ( Also why I kinda half assed it a little, Im very sorry). But now that we are back again I really hope you enjoy it guys. It was initially going to be 30 k words but due to the above mentioned things I could only reach 21 k but I still hope I won't disappoint you guys. Anyways, happy reading.

*******

'Why did you agree to this?' you asked yourself once again as you stared at the boy sitting opposite you, nervously stumbling over his words. You looked at him with a bored expression.

Let’s make one thing clear: you have a policy of not dating. The only reason you agreed to this date was simple—who would turn down free food, right? Plus, the boy was somewhat easy on the eyes. However, after listening to him struggle to tell a story for the last half-hour, you were instantly reminded why you avoid dates altogether: they can be incredibly boring.

'Oh God, fucking and dumping is so much easier than enduring this.' You don’t even understand how they get the impression that you're looking for anything more than just sex. From the start, you’ve always been clear about your intentions—letting them know that you're only interested in a physical relationship with no strings attached. At first, they all agree, but eventually, they start pushing for more, asking for just one date, as if that would change your mind.

"Could you at least pretend to look interested?" he snaps suddenly, his irritation showing at your impolite demeanor.

"Well, I'm not."

"Then why did you say yes to this?"

"Because you were practically begging me to, and I was just feeling a bit hungry, dude," you retorted, leaning back in the chair and crossing your arms. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, it’s not you, okay? I just don’t do dates... What was your name again?"

"How could you not remember my name? We had sex this morning!" He looked hurt, but it's not your fault, you were drunk last night when you met him at the frat party.

"And did you hear me say your name once?" you asked with a raised eyebrow .

"You're a bitch." He exclaimed, getting up to rush out of the cafe.

"At least pay for the pancakes!" you called after him but he ignored you and ran away. 'What a little bitch.' You sighed throwing some bills on the table and got up to leave as well.

Let’s make one more thing clear: you loved sex. It was ironic, really, considering you were a virgin when you first started college. But after getting your heart broken by your boyfriend during the second semester, you realized the only good thing that came out of relationships with men was sex.

You have sworn off dating but that didn't mean you were going to give up on having sex too. If guys could do it without any judgment, you saw no reason why you couldn't as well. As a result, you gained a reputation as the infamous "fuckgirl" of your college.

*******

"So? I heard your recent boy toy has been telling everyone that you suck at giving head." Jimin, your best friend of 3 years said. Jimin was the only guy you have stayed friends with after having sex. Sex with Jimin was good, so good that you guys became fuck buddies for a few months in fourth sem. However you had to stop having sex when he started seeing a girl regularly and then you didn't go back even after they broke up, You both decided that you liked your dynamic better as best friends.

"As if I would let that dick anywhere near my mouth." You roll your eyes, taking a seat next to him at the far end of the classroom. It was frustrating to see guys act like this after facing rejection. "Honestly, who cares? Everyone knows that's not true." you remarked, dismissing the behavior with a hint of exasperation.

"I don't know, you were kinda awful."

"Hey, I take offence. I was the best sex you've ever had and you're a lucky bastard to even get a taste of this." You said pointing at your own body.

"I'm kidding. He's probably just salty that he wasn't the one to change you for the better and be your awakening."

After several minutes of silence, with only the voice of Mr. Aitken filling the air, you returned to the previous subject. "I don't get it, I mean what part of 'I only want to have sex' is so hard to understand?"

"I don't know, bro. You should do what I do, leave before they wake up and block them from every social media platform."

"Oh what a great person."

"Says the one that has fucked almost half the college?"

You gasped at his sudden dig and slapped his arm. "You're a bigger slut than I am, bitch. Anyways, I'm done with college boys."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they're so immature. I just want someone who would understand the depth of casual sex."

"You sure you're not only saying that because you've now slept with all the boys in our campus?"

"Shut up. My body count is still very modest. And I'm serious, I'm not sleeping with anymore college boys."

"As if on cue, Mr. Aitken's lecture was interrupted by the creaking sound of the large lecture hall door swinging open. In walked a boy with fluffy hair and clothes that seemed too big for him, drawing everyone's attention."

"I'm so sorry for interrupting you. Is this Ancient Mesopotamia with Mr. Fergus Aitken?" the boy asked in a voice so low that, if it hadn't been so silent in the class, you wouldn't have been able to hear it.

"Yes, it is. Now hurry up and take your seat; you're wasting my time," the old man grumbled, prompting the boy to rush and nervously find a place to sit. You observed him with curiosity as he settled into the only available seat, which happened to be in the third row, directly in front of you.

From the little you could see of his face, you certainly liked what you saw. He seemed younger than you, or maybe it was his clothing style and demeanor that gave off that impression. There was an aura of innocence and cuteness about him that caught your attention. If it weren't for the classroom setting, you would have already approached him.

While you had no reservations sleeping with any attractive man, Jimin always insisted that you have a type. He believed you had a soft spot for spoiling cute and innocent boys. Boys who seemed inexperienced in the field, boys you could teach, boys who looked like they've never seen pussy in their life, boys like him.

Your best friend seemed to have caught on to the expression on your face, and with a knowing smirk, he nudged you playfully.

"I thought you said you were done with college boys."

"That was before I knew someone this cute goes here. Who the hell is he?" you asked, genuinely curious about the boy who had just walked in.

"Why do you think I know everyone in this college?"

"Because you're a gossip girl."

"You don't complain when I give you the gossips."

"I'm sorry, is my lecture interrupting your conversation, Mr. Park, Ms. __?" a thickly accented voice interjected, breaking your conversation with Jimin. You glanced up and noticed that all eyes, including those of the new boy, were on you. This time, you got a full view of his face, and you were taken aback by his beauty. His big doe eyes gazed back at you, his lips set in a natural pout, and his fluffy hair, partially restrained by a black bandana, almost concealed his stunning features. To call him merely pretty would be disrespectful; he was absolutely gorgeous.

"No, sir. I was actually just clearing her doubt about King Shu-Sin." Jimin said and you nodded along.

"Well, that's unfortunate, given that topic ended last week and we're on Assyrian civilization." You fought the chuckle that almost escaped you as Jimin's face reddened in embarrassment.

"You see, I know that, but-"

"If you want to talk, just get out of my class." Mr. Aitken's stern words snapped you back to reality as he resumed his lecture. Despite the urge to leave, you knew you couldn't afford to miss any more classes, given that your attendance was already lagging behind. Moreover, there was the intrigue of the new boy who had captured your interest recently. So, you stayed put, trying to focus on the lecture, though your mind kept drifting back to the presence of the boy in front of you.

After what felt like an eternity, but was only an excruciating 40 minutes, the lecture finally came to an end. Without waiting for Jimin, you promptly stood up from your seat, excited that you finally had the opportunity to approach the boy. Your eyes scanned the room for your new object of interest. Among the sea of students, his fluffy head was not too difficult to spot as he made his way toward the exit. However, navigating through the crowd of more than 200 students, all eager to leave Mr. Aitken's apparently popular class, proved to be quite challenging and frustrating.

"Shit!" You exclaimed when you finally got out of the class but couldn't get a sight of him. 'How is he so fast?'

"You know you should start paying me for this." Came the voice of your friend from beside you as he held out your bag which you had left behind in a rush.

"Bet you've said that before."

********

"Guess who has a new crush!" Jimin exclaimed the moment both of you stepped into the café where you and your friends usually hung out. And by hung out, you meant practically lived.

"Shut up, it's not a crush," you defended yourself, settling down on the couch and playfully nudging your friend with your butt to make some space for yourself.

"Sure. It's not a crush." Jimin mocked.

"Wait, I wanna know. Who is it?" Riley exclaimed excitedly, leaving her boyfriend Hobi's lap to move closer to you, eager to hear all the details.

"It's not a crush or anything. Jimin loves to overreact. It's just this guy I noticed in class today. It was his first time with Mr. Aitken; otherwise, I think I would have noticed him before. He's just really cute, that's all."

"Wait cute as in 'charming-flirty cute' or cute as in 'you could spread him on a toast and eat' cute." Jennie chipped in on your conversation.

"Knowing her, I bet it's the latter." Said Hoseok.

"I'm not answering that." You said as the waitress, Robin, came with your usual coffee order and you thanked her with a smile.

Amidst the conversation, you couldn't help but notice that Jay, one of your friends, had been unusually quiet the whole time. Before you could ask him what happened, he got up to leave.

"I'm gonna go smoke some weed. You wanna come?" Jay asked you, and you declined with a shake of your head. As soon as he was out of earshot, your other friends burst into laughter, amused by the situation.

"Oh he wishes you'd cum."

"Guys please. He'll get over it." You defended the guy even though you were quite sure he wouldn't get over it soon.

"He better, it's getting pathetic." Said Riley.

Jay had been harboring a crush on you for over a year now. He had asked you out twice in the past month, but you turned him down, saying you don't fuck with friends.

As you engaged in another conversation, you heard the bell on the front door ring, but you didn't pay much attention to it initially—at least not until Jimin burst out with wide eyes.

"That's him, that's him. That's her new crush!" All of you turned around to see the boy standing at the café entrance, looking around with his wide doe eyes as if he were looking for someone.

You were never one to get enchanted by someone very easily. It hadn't happened even once since you got to college—at least, not until this boy. There was something about him that captivated you effortlessly.

It definitely wasn't love at first sight, though. Your experiences had taught you that you were somewhat incapable of feeling love in the traditional sense. You just couldn't. But would you admit that you were attracted to him? Yes, you were undeniably and very much attracted to him.

"Oh he's a cutie."

"Him?" You turned around at Jennie's words as she shook her head.

"You know him?" You asked.

"No I don't know him. I know of him." You felt like you've hit a jackpot. Not you'd know at least something about him when you approach him. "You can't fuck him. You know Namjoon's friend Jeon Wonwoo?"

"If by 'know' you mean 'slept with'? Then yes."

"That's Jeon Jungkook, his brother."

"No way. What?"

"Yeah, and Wonwoo hates you so much. I'm pretty sure his brother hasn't heard good things about you."

"But maybe he doesn't know her," Jimin said "Maybe Wonwoo hasn't told him about her. I mean who likes to brag about getting dumped?"

"Yeah, I'm with Jennie here," Riley said and you raised an eyebrow, "Not because he's Wonwoo's brother or something but because, look at him. He looks like you'd break him."

"No, I won't. Why do you guys always act like I'm some man-eating witch?" you retorted, feeling defensive and exasperated at your friends' judgmental reactions.

"Babe, you know that's not what she means. You know guys like him can never handle a woman who's comfortable in her sexuality." Riley nodded along at Jennie's words.

"You never know. For all we know he could be like...a freak in the sheets."

"Really? Him?" You followed Hosoek's gaze to see the boy in question sitting on a barstool and sipping on pink Boba tea. His lips made a small pout around the head of the straw.

"He's cuuute." Riley cooed.

"And you have a boyfriend." Hobi reminded her and she pecked his lips in assurance.

"You know what? Go for it," said Jennie with a smile. "Fuck Wonwoo, in fact I'll ask Namjoon some details about him." You squealed and kissed Jennie on the cheek with a big smacking sound.

******

It seemed like you were experiencing the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, because lately, Jungkook had been popping up everywhere—in your classes, at the café, and anywhere you hung out on campus. It had been over a week since you first noticed him, but you were yet to approach him. It wasn't that you were nervous or anything, no, far from it; you were just looking for a good opportunity to pounce.

He always rushed out of classes as if he had to attend to surgery or something, or he was always with his two guy friends, who looked like they'd have a seizure if they came in contact with a woman. It's not that you were nervous about asking him out in front of his friends; you just weren't sure if he wanted to be asked out in front of them.

Through Jennie (read: Namjoon), you managed to gather some information about Jungkook. He was a third-year student, majoring in chemistry, and 22 years old—he was a year younger than you and all your friends.

Right now you were fooling around with one of the boys in class at another one of your hookup spots. It was just meant to be a quick exchange of weed when Dongmin suggested you should make out since you were already in the sacred spot and you were like why not.

You and Dongmin have been hooking up for quite some time now. While you don't usually sleep with a man twice, Dongmin was quite good at what he does.

You don't realize when his hand slipped into your panties but you certainly weren't complaining.

As you were in the middle of your intense make-out sesh, a loud thud disturbed your encounter, leaving you irritated and eager to shoo away whoever had intruded. When you turned around to address the interruption, your voice caught in your throat and all the irritation left your body when you found yourself face to face with the familiar pair of wide, doe eyes.

It was none other than Jeon Jungkook, the same boy you've been trying to get alone with for the past week but had no luck. The same boy you've been lusting over just saw you with another man, his hand down your panties.

"I'm- I'm sorry... I got lost- I'll just... Leave." Jungkook hurriedly picked up his books from the ground and rushed to get out of there.

Before you knew it, you were pushing away the guy in front of you and without any explanation to him you rushed after Jungkook.

"Hey, wait," you called after him and he froze on the spot. When you finally approached him, you gave him a sweet smile.

"I-I-said I'm sorry."

"Oh no, it's ok. You just said you're lost?" Jungkook looked at you in confusion. Did you actually just leave your make out session to ask him that?

"Umm... yeah, I recently started having classes in this sector, and I was... looking for Abnormal Psych with Mr. Hastings."

"I know where that class is, come I'll walk you."

"It's not necessary," Jungkook said, looking at the ground to avoid making eye contact.

"I insist. By the way I'm," you offered him your hand which he looked at hesitantly for a few seconds but didn't shake. You were a little hurt but didn't show it in your face "And you are?"

"Jeon Jungkook." His voice was lower than expected.

"Cute name. Come on Jeon Jungkook, I'll take you to your psych class." You offered once again and started walking without waiting for his answer.

Jungkook had half a mind to escape from the situation and hide. For all he knew, you could be luring him somewhere for your friends to bully him. Here's the thing: Jungkook couldn’t be bothered enough to indulge in college drama, but he also wasn’t living under a rock to not know who you were. To say that you were infamous around the whole campus would be an understatement.

He had heard many things about you and your little group of friends—from his brother, his friends, and even strangers—and none of it was good. If so many people had the same negative opinion about you, he couldn't help but believe that there might be some truth to it.

Jungkook could never comprehend why people still engaged with you if you were such an awful person with such an unpleasant personality. Why did they give you all the attention you so clearly wanted? Why not just ignore you and go on their merry way?

When he first saw you, though, he understood why. You were drop-dead gorgeous, and you carried yourself like you knew it. With just a look at you, he could tell that you were a bad influence, and he promised himself never to associate with you or any of your friends. He believed that being drawn into your circle would only lead to trouble.

"I think I've seen you somewhere." Jungkook thought, of course you don't remember him even after crossing paths several times. He doesn't think of himself as a memorable face anyway. "Wait, do we have any classes together?"

"A couple."

"Oh, right! You're in Mr. Aitken's Mesopotamian history class, aren't you?" Jungkook simply nodded in response. You took the opportunity to prolong the conversation, purposely opting for the longer route to the psychology building.

"Yes." He mumbled, not saying a single word more than he needs to answer you.

"Hey by the way I have psych too, but its with Mrs. Fields." You said, happy to find another common ground with him. "Is psych your major?"

"No. It's Chemistry."

You attempted to lighten the atmosphere with a playful comment, saying, "You definitely look like someone who'd take chemistry." But instead of taking it lightly, Jungkook seemed a bit offended by your remark.

"What does that mean?"

"You know, you look smart," you complimented, unaware that he was misinterpreting everything. All Jungkook heard was the possible hidden meaning behind your words. You were definitely calling him a nerd. And even if you were right, you had no right to say that.

You had no idea what to make of Jungkook's expression. It was the first time you'd miserably failed at flirting with a guy. Usually, by this point in the conversation, they'd be eating out of your hand, but Jungkook looked unaffected by your charms. He was looking anywhere but at you, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Are you always this quiet?" You asked.

"I only talk to my friends." His answer was short and simple.

You finally reached in front of Mr. Hastings class and you suddenly felt a pang in your heart that your time was up with him.

"Here, it's your class."

Seeing the lecture hall door labeled 'GC24' and noticing the same numbers on the slip, Jungkook felt a sense of relief wash over him. He silently thanked his luck, relieved that you hadn't taken him somewhere with ill intentions to bully him, as he had initially thought.

"Thanks," Jungkook mumbled as he reached for the door handle, preparing to enter the lecture hall. Before he could step inside, your hand on his arm halted him. Your touch surprised him, and he turned to look at you with curiosity, unsure of what you might say or do next.

"Do you want to get coffee sometime?" You asked, looking up at him with a smile.

Jungkook panicked at your question. You wanted to have coffee with him? You wanted to have coffee with him? But why? Probably so that your little posse of friends can make fun of him.

"No thanks." Jungkook's rejection caught you off guard, and it was an unfamiliar feeling to be on the receiving end of such a response. Doubts crept into your mind as you wondered if he had misunderstood you or if there had been some miscommunication between you two.

"No, I'm asking you out on a date."

"I- I know," He said, "I don't want to."

Feeling beyond shock the only thing that left your mouth was "Why?"

"I don't date girls like you." And with that he quickly went inside the lecture room leaving a very shocked you outside.

*******

"Maybe he's gay," Jimin suggests passing you the rolled joint and you took it gladly. "And by 'girls like you' he meant girls in general."

"No, no, I'm pretty sure he meant girls like me. I'm sure, that idiot brother of his has said something about me." You said passing back the joint. "And now he thinks I'm a slut or something."

"I mean, where's the lie?" You could tell that Jay was pretty high right now, he only settles to throw mean comments at you when he's high. It was his own way of releasing his frustration and you never mind him.

"Shut up, Jay, before I kick you in the teeth." Jimin threatened him in your defense and you don't doubt that he would actually do it if needed.

"Babe, you have never cared what people think about you, why start now?" Jennie said as she lied down on the grass.

"I don't know, I still don't care what other people think but-"

"You know what? He was completely out of line to say that to you." Riley said and you shook your head.

"I guess if roles were reversed I wouldn't go out with me either. I don't really have the reputation of Mother Teresa on this campus."

"So what you gonna do now?"

"I say move on and fuck our TA Mark, he's like, crazy hot."

"I think I know what I'm gonna do."

*******

"The only reason I agreed to take psych was because we were taking it together. Now you want to switch to that old cranky man?" Jimin complained as you sat in the office to fill the forms to change classes.

"You are welcome to not join me."

"If you think that I can endure a lecture without you, then you're wrong."

"I know." You giggled kissing his cheek.

"Hmm 'reason', I wonder what I should write," Jimin mocked as he stared at the form and then you, "'My crazy best friend is obsessing over a nerd who clearly doesn't give two fucks about her'."

"Your crazy best friend wouldn't mind telling your hookups that you once had gonorrhea."

"I told you that in confidence." As the two of you continued to bicker you heard someone clear their throat and instantly looked up to see a woman in her late 40s, you've seen countless times but don't recall the name of.

"If you are done with the forms, you can give them to me,"

"Just a moment," you said with a smile as you proceeded to fill out the rest of the form. She shook her head as she looked you up and down, probably appalled by your scantily covered body in a lilac bralette that exposed the better part of your chest and midriff, and a white skirt so short that if you bent over, your ass could be seen. She took a few seconds to judge you and eventually returned to her desk.

"Did you sleep with her?" You asked in a hushed tone.

"What?! No, she's like... ancient."

Once you submitted the forms to Mrs.—shit, you forgot her name again—you made your way to the history building. It was almost time for Mr. Aitken's class. Although you typically wouldn't attend any class two days in a row, your newfound motivation had recently changed your mindset.

"Can we skip it today? Let's just go, smoke some weed, I got really good stuff from Taehyung."

"No, we are very behind on attendance."

"What are you talking about, we can still skip three more classes."

"No, Jimin."

"Is this about Jungkook again?" He sighed after reading your expression. "What is up with you? You've never put this much effort into fucking a guy."

"I know. He's just, interesting. And I want to put effort."

Upon entering the crowded lecture hall, almost every seat was occupied, and only a few vacant spots remained. While Jimin searched for a place to sit, your attention was captured by one person only—Jeon Jungkook—who was currently engrossed in scribbling something in his notebook. He was wearing glasses today, and it made him even more adorable than usual. All you wanted to do was drag him away from the class and kiss him.

As you heard your name being called, you turned to find a group of boys gathered around an empty seat, all of them gesturing toward it, signaling that the seat was available for you.

"Sit here, the view's perfect from here." You rolled your eyes and ignored them, walking up to the only boy you're interested in right now.

"In your dreams, Jared." You heard one of the boys say.

When you reached your destination, the entire class fell into silence, their eyes wide and curious as they watched you stand in front of Jungkook in the front row. But it seemed that Jeon Jungkook was completely absorbed in whatever he was scribbling in his notebook, paying no attention to you or the situation.

"Hey," when Jungkook lift his head to see who was talking to him his eyes widened. He was definitely not expecting to have a encounter with you two days in a row.

When you had asked Jungkook out (and he had said no), he believed that you did it merely as a joke, intending to mock him in front of your friends. What else would make someone like you ask someone like him out? You surely don't have any shortage of people falling at your feet, so that had to be the only reason why you asked him out, right?

When Jungkook rejected you, he was sure that would be the last of your encounters. He planned to make sure he never crossed your path again, which is why he deliberately sat in the front row today, knowing you and your friend always occupied the seats at the back.

Since yesterday, Jungkook couldn’t get you out of his mind. He despised you; he despised people like you—people who seemed to believe they had the authority to toy with others simply because of their popularity. On top of that, the negative things he had heard about you from his brother only added to the bad image you already had. According to everyone, you were the meanest girl in the whole college, and he just wished he could put you in your place.

He hated the way you smiled at him right now, so innocent, as if you weren’t the person people said you were. He believed your smile was fake, a mere façade to conceal your true intentions. Your ego must have been wounded by getting rejected by him of all people, and now you probably wanted revenge or something.

Undeterred by Jungkook's lack of response to your greeting, you pressed on and asked, "Is this seat taken?" You pointed to the seat beside him, even though it was clearly occupied by another girl, who looked alarmed by your question.

"Is it, sweetie?" Your next question wasn't to him but the girl, who just looked panicked and taken aback that you're even talking to her.

"N-No… You can sit here, __." The girl stammered nervously, quickly giving up her seat for you.

'Who do you think you are?' Jungkook wanted to snap at you very badly but looking at all your fans around the hall who were already glaring daggers at him, he stops himself.

"Thanks," you smiled sweetly at the girl and proceeded to sit in the seat. "Scooch," you told Jungkook, and he did so without saying anything. You then patted the seat on your other side, prompting your friend to come forward and take that seat, though not without rolling his eyes first.

As soon as you sat beside him, he caught a whiff of your scent. It was a very fruity smell, a mix of grapefruit and fresh oranges. You smelled rich, and it suited your personality very well.

Jungkook thanked the whole universe when Mr. Aitken finally walked in and started his lecture. Now he’d just have to get through this one hour somehow, by ignoring your presence. Jungkook thought you wouldn’t try to mess with him during the class, but boy, was he wrong.

"So? What happened yesterday? Why'd you run away?" You leaned closer to him and asked in a hushed tone. He tried to ignore you and moved closer to the boy next to him.

"Are you ignoring me, Jungkook?"

"Please, let me focus on the lecture." He says before noting down something in his notebook.

"Oh, look at you. You take notes, such a good boy." You giggled, and if it had been anyone else, Jungkook would admit that sound was incredibly cute. But on you, it was nothing but annoying. Once again, you were mocking him for being a nerd. "So? Did you have time to think about it? You wanna go out for coffee?" You asked, batting your eyelashes at him, but it seemed to have no effect on him.

"No. Now please let me study."

"You have pretty hands," you remarked, tracing circles on the back of his palm. But Jungkook chose to ignore your comment once again. "If you don't want to get coffee, we can go to the movies or something, or do whatever you like."

"What do you want from me?" He asked, clearly annoyed by your behavior.

"I want to get to know you." Your words made him snap his head to look at you. The way you smiled at him seemed genuine, like you actually meant what you just said. Once again, Jungkook couldn't help but notice your beauty. Your lips were a shade of pink, glossy, and looked very plump. Your eyes were big and innocent, as if you hadn't broken all of those hearts. Before he could silently compliment more of your features, he suddenly remembered what Wonwoo had said to him.

"She is the meanest girl in this college, Guk. You don't want to associate with the likes of her. She and her friends bully people to have fun."

"I don't want to do anything."

"Why?"

"I just don't."

For a second, you looked truly hurt by Jungkook, and he realized he didn’t like that look on your face for some reason.

"If you don't want to go on a date, we can just hang out here on campus," you suggested again. This time, instead of saying anything, Jungkook just sat there silently.

You didn’t look away, though. Your eyes were fixed on him with that pretty little smile on your face, and Jungkook started feeling self-conscious under your gaze.

Do you look at everyone like this? Like you're looking at him right now? Like you're scrutinizing every minute detail of his face?

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're very pretty?" Jungkook's whole body heated up as he heard your compliment, unable to control the blush that spread across his face. "Are your glasses prescribed?"

The remainder of the class passed with Jungkook doing his best to avoid your presence, while you continued shamelessly staring at him from the front row. He wondered why the professor hadn't called you out on your behavior yet. Maybe this whole college was biased toward popular kids.

As soon as the hour was up and the bell rang, Jungkook was the first to swiftly get up, eager to make his escape. The intensity of your gaze was becoming overwhelming, and he felt as though he might burst into flames if he stayed any longer. Your presence was growing more intense with every passing second.

When you saw Jungkook hastily gather his belongings and rush out of the hall without even sparing another glance at you, you grabbed your bag, which you hadn’t even bothered to open yet, and ran after him, ignoring the calls of your name behind you from Jimin. This time, thankfully, you didn’t lose him in the crowd.

When you caught up to him, Jungkook was a little surprised to see you, not expecting you to follow him even after class.

"Wha-what are you doing?"

"We're hanging out."

"I never said yes to that."

"You never said no either." You said following him. "Why are you so scared of me, Jungkook?" You sound honestly curious about the question.

"I'm-I'm not scared."

"Then do you talk to everyone like that?" Ignoring your comment, Jungkook continued walking in a familiar direction.

"Where are we going?"

"Central Library." Jungkook doesn't know why he keeps answering you, it's like the words fall out before he can stop himself.

"Why? We just had a class," you whined a little. "Let's go to that gazebo behind the literature department." Jungkook doesn't have to know that it was a popular spot for people to make out. But it seemed that your suggestion fell on deaf ears, as you found yourself following Jungkook into the library without getting any response from him.

"I want to study for the next class."

As Jungkook walked alongside you, he couldn't help but notice all the attention the two of you were receiving on your way to the library. It made him wonder if you were equally affected by the curious stares, or if you had grown so accustomed to such attention that it didn’t faze you anymore.

Not wanting to be in the spotlight any longer, Jungkook led himself—and involuntarily, you—to seats in a less conspicuous area, hidden from the prying eyes of most people. Luckily, the seats there were unoccupied, with only two girls sitting at the table across from you, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

"Do you spend all of your free time in the library?" You questioned as you settled on the seat beside him, a little too close for his liking. Your body was halfway turned toward him, and his eyes couldn't help it travel a little further south from your face. Jungkook thought that you had to know what you were doing; there was no way it was unintentional.

Deciding to ignore your presence altogether, Jungkook took out his earphones and plugged them in his mobile, resuming the playlist he was listening to the night before. And apparently you took it as an invitation to take one of the earplugs and put it in your own ear.

When you started humming to the music and singing somewhat broken lyrics to 'wasted years' along with Bruce Dickinson, it left Jungkook quiet stunned.

"You-you listen to heavy metal?" Jungkook asked with a raised eyebrow and you once again give him that smile of yours that seemed very dangerous.

"Sometimes, mostly Iron Maiden. Why? Can't I?"

"No-no, it's just, you- you don't seem like someone who'd... listen to heavy metal."

"Yeah? Then what do I seem like?" Your question caught him off guard and his eyes travelled to your lips. Still sitting too close to him, Jungkook could almost feel the warmth emitting from your body and it left him feeling a little strange, he couldn't decide if the feeling was the good or the bad kind.

You on the other hand almost did a victory dance in your head when you noticed his eyes lingering on your lips a little longer. You didn't make any further moves, knowing he might get uncomfortable and that's the last thing you want.

"I don't kn-know."

You heard the quiet sigh he let out in relief when your phone started buzzing in your hand, alerting you of text messages. Silently cussing at whoever it was, you turned on your phone to see the SMS.

Dooly 🐣 : Where the fuck did you go you rat?

Dooly 🐣 : You always do this bitch. And I always wait for you after class 🤡 🤡

You : I'm so sorry Chimmy. I'm with Jungkook.

Dooly 🐣 : You're with Jungkook 🥵?

You : Lol no. I wish tho 🤤🤤

You : we're just hangin in the Library 🙃.

Dooly 🐣: did your phone autocorrect sucking dick for 'hangin in the library' ? 🥴

You : stawppp bitch. We ain't doing anything. Just hangin.

Dooly : You ditched me to just hang in the library? Not cool 🙅🏻. Hope he never gives you dick.

You : Don't say that 🥹. I'm sorry.

Dooly 🐣: Whatever, dude. I'm smoking the good weed all by myself 😏😏

You : Don't say that 🥺🥺.... I'll make it up to you. Do you want a nude?

You didn't get a reply after that, so you reverted your attention to Jungkook who was already engrossed in his laptop. A smile automatically found its way to your lips when you saw how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips were already making a small pout.

You decided not to disturb him and settled for admiring him silently.

*******

'Baby, you want more?' Your voice was nothing but a sweet melody as you whispered in Jungkook's ear. Your hips are moving in a circular motion. Your cunt bare and wet as it rubbed against his cock.

All he could do in response was moan a loud 'yes' . Jungkook felt like he was in heaven. Your tits were bare and glistening with sweat as they bounced in his face. He could just reach out and suckle on them but he couldn't for some reason.

'Come on, baby boy. Touch me.' You demanded. Your voice was lower and you were moaning. 'Touch me, Jungkook. I'm all yours.' The way you said his name made him want to cum all over you. Paint you all white.

'I can't.' Jungkook said in frustration. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't reach out to grab those beautiful mounds of flesh. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to touch you, kiss you, please you.

'It's ok, baby boy. I can do all the work.' The second your wet pussy sank down on his hard as rock-penis was the second Jungkook lost it all. He moaned out your name like chants. Your hands tugged on his hair as you jumped up and down on his cock. Your head rolled back, revealing your beautiful neck which he just wanted to take a bite out of.

'I'm cumming, that's it, baby boy. You're about to make me cum.'

Jungkook immediately jolted awake. He was panting and his breath was irregular. What the hell did he just see in his dream?

He threw the covers off of him when he realized he was sweating excessively. His whole body was on fire and his mind couldn't comprehend the dream. He took a moment to realize that he just dreamt of you riding him. Not only were you riding him but he was making you cum as well.

Was it because you were the only thing that he had thought about the whole evening? It wasn't his fault that all he could think about was you. You were the one following him around the whole day in that little outfit that did nothing to cover your body.

Jungkook's cock was achingly hard. It was throbbing. When he looked down he could see it practically poking its way out of his sweatpants.

He has never felt this turned on before, not even when he watches his favorite genre of porn. Not even when Vivian Sue, his first girlfriend touched him down there for the first time when he was 16. But just a dream of you had him practically heaving.

He laid still for a few seconds, waiting for the boner to go down because there was no way he was going to give in to you so easily, he can't let you affect him like that. He has to fight his boner.

'Let's think of something disgusting.' Jungkook thinks to himself, 'Mingyu's feet. Yugyeom's sweaty hands. Dead dogs. Uncooked chicken. Your tits, your tits, your tits.'

Jungkook let out a groan in frustration. Fuck why was it so hard.

"Fuck it." Jungkook mumbles under his breath before taking out his throbbing cock from the restraint of his sweatpants. A soft involuntary moan left his mouth when his hands came into contact with the angry tip of his cock. He sighed in relief.

His hands slowly started rubbing his cock up and down. Thumb spreading the precum to make it easier for his fist to slide of the member.

He should think about something else, you're a person and it's unfair to masturbate to you. Specially when he has no sexual relationship with you. It was just wrong but he couldn't think of something else.

The image of your tits bouncing was still fresh in his head. The way your plump lips spread wide open to moan out his name, calling him 'baby boy'. The way you arched your back in pleasure as you rode him, your shiny pussy lips gliding up and down his cock. The images were all too clear in his head and once again you were all he could think of.

Your name left his mouth as moans and he thanked god his flat-mate was not home tonight to hear him through the thin walls. He was moaning your name pretty loudly and there was no way Caleb wouldn't hear it if he was home.

Soon enough Jungkook was pumping his cock in a rapid speed. All to the thoughts of you doing vile things in his head. He couldn't help but think if you would actually feel as good as you did in his dreams. If your pussy was actually so tight that it would suck his cock in.

When Jungkook finally came down from his high he could see white, literally and figuratively. He felt lightheaded. He had never cum so much, so fast. His seeds were all over his sheets and some on his own stomach.

He felt guilty. Disgusted in himself. Jungkook can't believe he did that to you. Specially when he promised himself and his brother that he would never let himself get attracted to you.

He hoped to god not to run in to you the next day, because there was no way he could face you now after what he just did.

*******

"How dare you not tell us, Guk?" It was Mingyu's voice behind Jungkook that stopped him from walking any further into the campus.

He turned around and looked at his best friends in confusion. They didn't look angry or upset, they just looked shocked.

He racked his brain while they walked up to him but couldn't find a reason as to why they would react like this.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"You were ASKED OUT by THE __ ___. Are you KIDDING ME?" Yugyeom partially yelled on his face and before Jungkook could answer they bombarded him with a series of questions.

"Did you fuck her? Is it true? Does she really have nipple piercings?"

"How many times did she let you hit?"

"Does she really suck at giving head?"

As Jungkook's friends questioned him, he felt an inner discomfort building up. He didn't appreciate their probing and, surprisingly moreover, he realized he didn't like the way they were talking about you. A strange urge welled up inside him, compelling him to defend you behind your back. For the first time, he felt the strong feeling of hate towards his own friends because of the way they were speaking of you.

Even though none of it was new to Jungkook, he had heard people talking about you like that before, even worse, but it never mattered to him. He never raised an eyebrow when people called you names, said crude things about you. He never called them out when they said things as if you were not a person but an object that everyone wanted to play with. But now, hearing these things made him angry at his own friends.

"Don't talk about her like that." Jungkook simply said.

"Woah... Bro you're whipped already, is her pussy that good?"

"I said don't talk about her like that. And we never did anything, I said no when she asked me out." There was a sudden pregnancy pause as both of his best friends looked at him in confusion.

"What?" Mingyu asked as if Jungkook was speaking some foreign language.

"I said I turned her down."

"I'm sorry, did you hit your head when you were a kid?" Yugyeom scoffed unbelievingly.

"What do you mean you turned her down? When she asks you out you don't say no, you bend on your knees and you ask her when and where."

"I don't have time for this, I have class." Jungkook resumed towards his path after rolling his eyes at his friends, ignoring their comments about how he has to be lying and if he really did say no to you then he's an idiot.

Jungkook doesn't understand the strange feelings swirling within him. Up until recently he was so sure that he absolutely hated you, hated everything you stand for, specially your nasty personality. Yet, the strong feeling of wanting to protect and defend you now confuses him. Why does he want to scream at his friends right now? Why does the mention of your name makes him feel jittery?

For the second time that morning Jungkook was interrupted on his way by somebody calling his name.

"Jungkook!" The voice called again but this time it was closer. He turned in just in time to see you run towards him in yet another one of your tiny outfits. Your clothes today covered more surface than the previous day, at least your denim skirt was a little longer and your breast weren't about to spill out of your little pink top with tiny strawberry prints.

"Hi." As you stood in front of him, his heart thumped against his chest. His dream from last night was still very vivid in his head. The images of you had engraved themselves in his brain and his whole body heated up with embarrassment and guilt when he remembers how he was so far gone into the lust that he shamelessly masturbated to you.

There were two similar to go cups in either of your hands, one filled with green and other with pink. Jungkook wonders what you were doing at this part of the campus when your classes were all the way over to the other side. Did you come all the way over here only to meet him? You wouldn't would you?

"Here, I got you strawberry Boba tea." You handed him the cup as you sipped on your own matcha.

"How do you-"

"I saw you order this in the café, the other day."

"What are you doing here? You don't have any classes here." He said a little shyly. The blush on his face was very evident although you might not know the reason behind it and he would like to keep it that way.

"Yeah, my classes start after 12. I thought I'll just hangout with you." You replied batting your eyelashes at him. "Won't you introduce me to your friends, Jungkook?" At your question Jungkook remembers that he was not alone right now and turned to look at the said friends, only to find them shamelessly staring at you with their mouth practically hung open as if they were meeting a celebrity or something. They both looked a little starstruck by you right now. You go to the same college as they do, what's the big deal?

"We know you." The tallest one out of the three said instantly and you raised your eyebrows at him. Jungkook wanted to scoff at their reactions.

Now you're aware that you're pretty famous (or infamous) around your college but you thought it was mostly in your department or the departments surrounding yours. You never knew you were also known all to the other side of the campus. Or perhaps Jungkook has talked about you with his friends? The thought alone made you want to giggle like a stupid teenager.

"You do?" You asked with a confused smile.

"Yeah we follow you on Instagram, I'm Yugyeom by the way."

"I'm Mingyu, we're Jungkook's friends."

"Oh, Hi. Nice to meet you guys." You said in that sweet voice of yours that Jungkook finds really obnoxious.

"Jungkook has class right now, if you want, you can hangout with us?" Mingyu suggested with a shy smile and before you could answer you felt a tug in your hand.

"It's fine guys, she has to get back to her department." With that Jungkook was dragging you out of there and you waved goodbye to his friends.

"What happened?" You asked with a little smirk as the boy gently dragged you along. You wonder if there was a chance that Jungkook was suddenly jealous of you talking to his friends.

In Jungkook's head he was doing you a favour. There was no way in hell he was going to let you alone with his friends after he just heard the way they talked about you. He was aware that you were very much capable of protecting or defending yourself. But just the thought of you spending time with his friends and them taking it as a signal sends chills down his spine.

"Jungkook, stop." He did as he was told and released your hand. "What happened? Why do you look mad?"

There's no need for you to know the actual reason behind why he's mad.

"Why did you come here?"

"I thought we could hang out."

"You don't have to. And you certainly don't have to bring me this." He said holding up the cup of pink bubble tea.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anything to do with you."

"Are we seriously back to square one? I thought we bonded yesterday."

"I don't know what- what made you think that."

"I promise I won't bother you. Please, if I annoy you, you can tell me and I'll go away." Jungkook sighed at your proposal but didn't say anything and started walking towards his class. You happily took that as a hint to follow him.

*******

"Oh look, it's the girl who has given up all her dignity for a boy."

"Shut up, Jimin." you said as you sat down at the your usual spot, in the café beside your best friend.

"No, you don't get to be mad at me. I am mad at you. You've been ditching me all week."

"I'm sorry." Jimin rolled his eyes at your apology, mostly because it didn't seem sincere.

Thankfully the café this time of the day always seem pretty empty because crowd was the last thing you needed right now, it was only occupied by your group and some other people.

Even half of your group was missing, only Jimin and Hobi were there when you came in.

"You're still chasing that Jungkook guy?" Hosoek asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes." It was you best friend who had decided to answer on behalf of you.

"Wow, I've never seen you this desperate for dick."

"It's not just about that, Ok?" You snapped. "I mean, I don't even care if I don't get to have sex with him. I just... I don't know what it is, I guess I like him or something."

Both your friends look astound at your revelation. In fact you yourself was kind of amazed at what you said, never realizing it before the words left your mouth.

The last time you had romantic feelings for someone, he broke your heart and moved away from the city. Saying that he never intended to continue this relationship after graduating. That's why you dreaded having any sort of romantic relationship after that. The heartbreak was just too much and so not worth it.

You promised yourself that you'll only stick to sexual relationships from now on, no strings attached, that's until Jungkook came along. At first you thought it was just because he said no to you and you took it as a challenge. But that was not it. He made you feel different, he made you want to spend time with him even if you don't get any orgasms out of it.

That day when you spent time with him in the library you realized you liked looking at Jungkook's face. It gives you joy, no conversations need to take place and you would still enjoy his company.

Jimin was instantly by your side, forgetting the fact that he was supposedly mad at you. "Oh my god, you actually like him. That's the face you made when you told me about Yoongi."

"Really?"

"Wait, I thought we weren't suppose to talk about him."

"You can talk about him, Hobi. I've moved on," You assured your other friend before getting back to the previous topic. "And I guess I do, I just spent an hour with him in his chemistry lecture and I actually didn't mind because I got to be with him."

"Oh my god this is huge."

"No, its not that huge."

"It is kinda huge." You rolled your eyes before steeling Hoseok's muffin.

"Anyway, are you still mad at me?"

"NO. I thought you were ditching for dick, I didn't know you were in love with him." Jimin said with a smile.

"Shut up, I'm not in love."

The next five minutes went by you trying to convince your best friends that you're not in love and them teasing you about it.

"Hey guys, what are you talking about?"

"Joon." you instantly stood up to greet your friend with a tight hug. "Where's Jennie?"

"In class, we're supposed to meet here." he replied sitting in the empty chair beside the couch.

"We were talking about her new crush." said Hoseok making you glare at him.

"Oh right, Jennie told me about Jungkook."

"Of course she did, when has she ever been able to shut her mouth."

"In her defense, she kept her mouth shut for three whole days after she found out."

You met Namjoon through Yoongi, they were both in the swim team and as the girlfriend of the captain you became a part of their friend group by default. Namjoon was the sweetest jock you have ever seen. Even after you and Yoongi broke up Namjoon stayed friends with you, and you heard through his friends that he even scolded Yoongi for you. One day when you saw Namjoon drooling over one of your best friends you introduced them both and one year later they're still dating.

"Are you guys going to Rick Miller party this weekend?"

"I don't know. They never has the good boo-" Jimin started but a light bulb went off in your head.

"Yes we are." You replied.

"We are?" Jimin asked you'

"Yes, now Namjoon," you started turning to face your friend with glinting eyes. "I heard you're still friends with Won-woo."

"Oh no, I don't like where you're going with this." Namjoon shook his head.

"Just hear me out."

"OK fine. Yes we're still friends."

"Then you could convince him to bring Jungkook to the party?"

"I don't know, __, I don't think I should meddle, and if he finds-"

"Joonie, please?" You gave him the puppy eyes that works on almost everyone, key word- almost. "Don't forget I introduced you to your pretty girlfriend."

"Are you gonna hang that over my head forever?"

"Pretty much."

"What are you gonna do anyway? And I don't know if you can tell but Kook's not really the party type of guy."

"I don't know, I haven't figured that yet. But if he sees me outside of college then maybe he'll actually talk to me." It seemed that your words didn't convince any of your friends. "Look just please try, I'll owe you one."

"Fine. But I can't promise anything."

*******

Jungkook's eyes goes back and forth from the mobile in his hand and to the thick white liquidy substance all over his sheets.

The picture displayed on his phone was one of your recent pictures you've uploaded on Instagram. It was a picture of you laying on a beach towel, sunbathing, it was nothing scandalous, just a simple picture of you in a bathing suit.

He closes his eyes out of shame. This was the third day in a row that Jungkook had masturbated to you and he has never felt so ashamed of himself, he felt like he was objectifying you and it was very wrong.

He quickly takes a Kleenex from the nightstand and wipes himself clean. It wasn't like he hadn't tried other things, he had. He tried watching porn, hentai, anything that would keep him going but unfortunately it was only you that made him hard anymore.

Jungkook then carefully tucks his still sensitive cock back in his sweatpants and laid back down in his bed. It was 10:00 on a Saturday morning and he was just so glad that at least he wouldn't have to face you for two days. He was going to spend these two days doing anything that would get his mind off you.

Your picture was still open on the screen of his phone and it compelled him to scroll further. It seemed that you were pretty popular on Instagram, and you didn't even post anything other than photos of yourself and sometimes your friends.

His thumb stopped scrolling when it came across a particular selfie. You were making a cute face at the camera and you were clearly sitting on a guy's lap whose face could not be seen. His face was hidden in the crook of your neck, only silver hair visible. Jungkook's eyes narrowed in on the picture, taking notice of every single detail. Was it somebody you dated in the past? Or was it just one of your friends? You do seem awfully close to your friends.

He felt a weird pang in his chest looking at the picture. It wasn't an old picture at least it was uploaded recently, only 6 days ago to be exact. And if you were already seeing someone why would you approach him and ask him out on a date?

Overwhelmed by his sudden feelings, Jungkook shut his phone and threw it against his mattress. C'mon JK, you need to stop thinking about her.

To pull him out of his thoughts filled with you, the doorbell of his apartment rang twice. Jungkook waited on his bed thinking his roommate could open the door, it's not like he himself gets any visitors anyway.

The doorbell rang again and he stood up from his bed, a little annoyed because he was planning to spend a few more hours in bed.

"Hyung?" The sight of Wonwoo behind the door surprised Jungkook a little. His brother has visited his apartment only twice, once when he was looking for an apartment and once when he helped him move in, that's it. So seeing him on his doorstep all of a sudden surprised him.

"Hey, Guk. What's up?" Jungkook opens the door wide enough to welcome him in and shuts the door behind them. There was not much age difference between the two Jeons, Wonwoo was only a little more than a year older than Jungkook. But Wonwoo always treated Jungkook like a kid, and not in a good way. At first it was endearing when Jungkook was actually a kid, but now it was just annoying.

"What are you doing here, Hyung?"

"Yah, can't I visit my brother? Eomma called this morning, she said you're not picking up her calls," Oh right, there was a reason Jungkook wasn't picking up his mother's calls and he wasn't proud of it. "I was around here so I thought I'd see what you're up to."

"Yeah, I was going to call her back. I was doing... something." At the suspicious raised eyebrow given to him by his brother he came up with an better excuse. "Working out. I was working out." Wonwoo doesn't need to know that he just spent an entire morning dreaming of you and touching himself.

"Working out huh? I see you've already built some muscles, little Kookie." There it was again, the condescending tone and the 'little Kookie' like he was some damn kid learning how to ride a bike.

"Is there something else you want, Hyung?" Jungkook asked politely. Yes Jungkook hated him time to time but it was still his older brother and he respected him.

"Nah, now that I know you're not dead, I can go back."

"Ok. I'll call Eomma and let her know you stopped by."

As Wonwoo was in front of the door ready to leave he stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"Hey, Gguk,"

"Yeah?"

"There's a party tonight at one of my teammates place, umm do you wanna go with me and the boys?" Jungkook was almost shocked at his question. He was always under the impression that his brother was somewhat embarrassed of his nerd younger brother, and now he wants him to come to a party with him and 'the boys'?

"What?" He asked as if the question wasn't clear to him.

"Namjoon suggested that you could do some socializing. And this party is just perfect, everyone goes every semester, even students from your department. And it's also not THAT wild."

"I don't know, Hyung. I'm not really a party person."

"I know. That's what I said. But he's right, a little socializing never hurts anyone. And if it's too much for you, you can always come back."

"I'll think about it."

"Ok, bro. Let me know whenever you change your mind."

*******

You can't recall the last instance you felt this thrilled about a college party. Yes they were fun and you got to get high and drunk with your friends and then you'd find a hot guy and sleep with him, but it was all becoming monotonous now. The same shit all the time. But this time it was different, there was a possibility that Jungkook could be there and that made you...excited?

You also can't remember the last time you went to a party and didn't get high right away.

"So what did Wonwoo say? Will he bring Jungkook?" You asked Namjoon who was sitting across from you on a chair with his girlfriends on his lap.

"Babe, its not even 11 yet, give 'em some time." Jimin said offering you the joint which you refused with a shake of your head.

You were currently sitting on Jimin's lap because you don't trust any furniture in these frat houses. God knows who has been there and done what. It has become a regular occurrence now. Whenever you went to these parties your only seat was your friend's lap, because these dresses ain't cheap.

"Wait, did you dress up all pretty for him?" asked Jennie, sipping that fruit punch that was spiked so many times with different alcohols that you were sure it was poisonous now. Instead of going for the 'hot girl' look tonight you decided to wear something that would make you look 'beautiful'.

The anticipation of Jungkook's arrival tonight was gradually diminishing. Positioned where you were, you had a clear view of the front door, yet there was no sign of Jungkook or his brother. Just as you were about to turn to Jimin to express your disappointment once more, a familiar tuft of fluffy hair caught your attention.

Your face instantly lit up at the sight of the boy. And of course Jungkook looked as cute as always if not more. You notice how he was wearing a black dress shirt and gray pants instead of his usual oversized tees and trousers.

"Should I go over right now or should I wait?" You asked your friends and they turned to look at the boy.

"I say wait at least 20 minutes. You don't wanna look desperate."

"Hobi, I've been following the guy for days. I don't think one can look any more desperate than that."

"True."

"I should go ask him for a drink."

"I'm pretty sure there's no bubble tea here." Jimin commented making the rest of the circle laugh.

"Ha ha, very funny. Suck a dick."

Jungkook looked very out of the place when you walked up to him. He didn't notice you until you were right in front of him.

"Hi, I didn't know you'd be here."

On the other hand, Jungkook wasn't particularly surprised to find you here. In fact, while getting ready, he had imagined the possibility of encountering you at least twenty times, playing out scenarios in his head about how he would react and what he would say. His gaze subtly traced over your figure, clad in a white glittery dress with a sweetheart neckline.

"You look handsome," you complimented him, noting the slight flush that colored his cheeks. It was the first time you had really taken notice of his muscular arms. Those t-shirts he typically wore to college certainly didn't do justice to his physique at all.

'You-You look pretty, as well."

"You think so?" you asked, giggling. You've always been aware that you're quite attractive; confidence has always been your strong suit. However, hearing the words coming from Jungkook—the boy who had never even acknowledged you—gave you a whole new sense of conviction.

"Yes."

"Thanks. Are you here with someone?"

"Umm, yes, my- my brother was suppose to meet me here."

"Maybe I can wait with you until you find him?"

"No, its ok. You should get back to your friends."

"No, please. Let me?" Jungkook couldn't quite pinpoint the reason—whether it was the fact that you were meeting outside of college, the way you looked, or the guilt that Jungkook couldn't shake off—but when you asked with that look on your face, he couldn't say no. "Okay, Kook, let's go get you some drinks," you said, taking the lead.

As you held his hand and pulled him further inside the house, it sent shivers throughout his body. Jungkook still couldn't believe that someone like you would actually take the time to entertain him, especially right now when you could just be with your friends and enjoy your time.

"You're okay with alcohol, right?" you asked, turning to face Jungkook as you both stood in front of a large table filled with all kinds of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. With so many people surrounding the table, the gap between your back and his chest was practically nonexistent.

"Yeah, but. Nothing too strong."

"The fruit punch is out of question then." Jungkook looked at the big glass jar that looked too pink to be consumable. "I'm gonna make you a __ special."

"A __ special? What's that?"

"A few months ago I accidently made this cocktail and it tastes amazing. You're gonna love it." You said already looking for the ingredients.

"What's in it?"

"Mostly Pineapple juice and tequila, but there's my secret ingredient, that I've never told anyone." You said, pouring the pineapple juice in the red cup. "Its actually red-bull, but promise me you'll never tell anyone." You handed him your invention proudly and he couldn't help but smile at the evident excitement on your face.

"Ok." He said, sniffing the liquid before taking a sip.

"How is it?" Horrible, it was horrible, Jungkook has never tasted anything this bad in his entire life. But that smile on your face, Jungkook could never let down that smile on your face.

"Its good."

"Right?" You said, making a drink for yourself, well, just pouring neat vodka in a cup.

"Do you go to college parties regularly?"

"Well, the first two years I did. But then it became boring, so we only attend sometimes, when we have nothing else to do."

"This is actually my first time." he admitted and it made you smile that he was finally talking to you without stuttering.

"Yeah? What made you come to this one."

"My hyun- my brother said it would be good for me to socialize a little."

"I hope you're not regretting your decision so far."

"I'm- I'm not."

Silence enveloped both of you for the next few seconds, neither knowing what to say next. You had been so focused all this time on getting Jungkook to talk to you that you hadn't considered what you would talk about if you actually had a conversation. You and Jungkook had almost nothing in common.

Jungkook, on the other hand, remained skeptical about the whole situation. Ok, there might be a slight chance that you weren't orchestrating all of this to make fun of him with your friends and that you genuinely wanted to get to know him. But did that mean that everything he had ever heard about you was a lie? Or were you just putting up a front?

"Its really noisy in here, would you like to go to the backyard or something?" you asked in hopes of getting some alone time with the boy in front of you.

"Umm, I'm not sure, my brother would be looking for me." The entire world knows by now that Jungkook's brother will not give two damns if he got lost in this party but he's already done enough socializing for one day.

"Oh come on, Jungkook. I promise I won't try anything funny." the younger boy almost chuckled at the look on your face.

"Okay, I guess it won't hurt anyone." you did a little victory dance in your head before holding his hand in your unoccupied one and dragging him out of the now crowded house.

*******

"No way, you watch Anime?" after a few minutes of awkwardly walking around in the garden Jungkook and you finally fell into a conversation, although his sentences still don't consist of many words you counted this as a win.

"Yes, why is it so hard for you to believe that I watch anime and listen to heavy metal?"

"I don't know...y-you just don't seem like the type."

Jungkook had constructed a specific image of you in his mind based on all the things he had heard from his brother, friends, and people in general. So far, none of the things you had revealed about yourself fit into that image at all.

From everything Jungkook had heard, you didn't seem like the type of person to enjoy heavy metal or comic books, or engage in anything even remotely described as nerdy or boring. You were supposed to be this big mean girl who burned everything that came into contact with her; you weren't supposed to be approachable or relatable.

"What type do I seem like then?" You asked with genuine curiosity in your eyes, you were not offended that he dared to assume shit about you, you just wanted to see yourself from his eyes.

"Someone who would... laugh at my face if I tell her how much I love comic books."

"What? Why would I do that?" you asked with a laugh that made your eyes go small and cheeks fluffier. Jungkook swear he has not heard a prettier laughter. "You know what, if you get to-" Before you could complete your sentence you were cut off by the loud noise of your drunk 'Friend'.

"Oh, there she is," Jay stumbled on his way to you. When he reached you two you saw Jungkook visibly cringe at how much he stank of alcohol and weed.

"What do you want, Jay?" It wasn't really new for him to get crazy drunk at parties and approach you, but what really annoyed you was him interrupting the moment between you and Jungkook.

"Oh you are with the nerd." His eyes went to Jungkook who was looking at him with his doe eyes. "So did you finally have him? Are you bored yet?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Jay? Leave us alone."

"Us? There is an 'us'?" he asking pointing his finger at you and Jungkook.

"Its none of your business."

"You? You seriously think you can change this slut? You fucking nerd, she's just gonna use you and throw you away like a tissue, you are nothing, literally nothing." He was now talking to Jungkook and standing too close to him for his comfort. You eyes were widening at his words.

"Jay what the fuck is wrong with you, get the fuck away from him." You had successfully pulled him enough away from Jungkook to get yourself in the middle. "I swear to god, you are going to regret this tomorrow so walk away."

"Or what? Your lap dog will come after me? Tell me do you let Jimin fuck you for all the service he does?" You were now absolutely disgusted with his words.

You looked back at Jungkook and saw him backing away, his eyes were on the ground, his face mimic the disgusted look on yours, you just don't know if it was for you or Jay.

"Jungkook, please don't listen to him, he's drunk and-"

"I-I'm, I'm just, I'm gonna head back. I'll see—" Without completing his sentence, Jungkook rushed back inside the house, presumably to leave through the front door.

"You FUCKING IDIOT, I swear to god if you ever come near me I'll fuck you up, I hate you. Do you not understand that I do not want you. Can't you get that through that thick skull of yours?" after ranting you quickly rushed after Jungkook not noticing the other man looking at you as if you just ruined his night and not the other way around.

"Jungkook stop," you called out guiding yourself through the sweaty bodies dancing and grinding and what not. "Please, just listen to me."

Taking advantage of his long legs and large steps, Jungkook was almost out of the front door and out of your sight. Just as you were about to cross the threshold, somebody threw a whole glass of fruit punch all over you.

"Oh my god, I'm sooo sorry-" You looked as the girl in front of you and if you were not in such a hurry you would bring another glass just to pour it down her head.

"It's okay." When you were out on the front yard, Jungkook was no where to be seen. You sighed in frustration, Jungkook was finally opening up to you and that rat just had to ruin-

"What happened to your dress?" Came a soft voice.

"You didn't leave yet." You smiled in relief.

"I was about to, I just- thought I should check on you first. He seemed pretty drunk."

"Look Jungkook, whatever he said, I'm very sorry about it. He shouldn't said that about you-"

"And what about you?"

"Huh?"

"He said worse things about you."

"Well... I'm pretty sure you have heard that before about me."

"I did. A lot."

"Look what he said to you was way out of line and I'm just so mad at him-"

"And why are you not mad at him for what he said about you?" His question confused you a lot.

"Because I'm used to it."

"Why?"

"I-I don't know. Jungkook, I know you are mad at what he said, but I swear to god, its not like that with you, I'm not-"

"I am, I am mad at what he said but not about me, I am mad at what he said about you and I am more mad that you let him."

"It's nothing, I don't really care."

"You should," he said calmly, "you should care, if you're really not what people say then you should stand up for yourself." with that he turned around to walk away from the house.

"Wait," he turned around. "Are you really going to leave me here like this? I am drenched."

******

Jungkook's room was cute, just like him—warm and cozy. Surprisingly, it was cleaner than what you expected a guy's room to be, except for a few pieces of clothes thrown over his gaming chair.

"Here, you can change into this?" Jungkook said handing you a big black t-shirt of his and his boxer briefs.

It was safe to say that Jungkook was completely freaking out right now. He had never had a girl at his place, and now he not only had 'any' girl but you roaming around in his room with your delicate feet in that tiny pink-stained white dress of yours.

"Can I use the shower?" you asked and he pointed to the brown door behind you.

As soon as you were behind the door he let out a loud breath that he was holding in ever since you started following him to his place.

When he was going out tonight he was only supposed to stay for 10-15 minutes and comeback to finish his paused video game. He had no intention whatsoever to bring a girl back let alone you out of all people.

Its not that Jungkook hates the idea of you in his shower, naked. Its that even the idea of it makes him all hot and bothered.

Jungkook looks back to the time 20 minutes ago, he could have booked you a cab for your own place but when you looked all innocent and helpless he couldn't help but utter those four words.

"Are you really going to leave me here like this? I am drenched."

"I live near by."

And that is how you ended up naked in his bathroom. Just a wooden door away.

Looking around his room, he quickly made sure there was no embarrassing thing left on any surface. With his shaking hands, he tidied up his room a little, stuffing everything in his closet— it was now future Jungkook's problem. However, Jungkook's immediate concern was the very visible tent in his gray pants.

Dammit, when did he get a hard on? Was it the thought of you naked in his bathroom, or was it your clearly very wet dress, or was it when you asked him if you could shower, or was it when he first saw you in this evening.

Maybe if he changed into some loose sweatpants, it wouldn't be very noticeable, so he did. Without taking a shower or cleaning himself of tonight's chaos, he quickly changed into his black sweatpants and a t-shirt similar to the one he gave you.

You couldn't believe you were inside Jungkook's shower, you personally thought that showers were a little too intimate, you have never showered at any of your hookup's place. In fact the last time you used a man's shower was when you were with Yoongi.

Now here you were in Jungkook's bathroom, looking at one of the most private parts of his life. The kind of shower gel he uses, the color of his toothbrush everything was too intimate and left you feeling giddy in your stomach. Not to mention you were wearing his clothes.

His t-shirt was too loose on you, your shoulders were tiny compared to his broad once, t-shirt was almost falling below your mid thigh whereas his hips were so petite that his boxers were a little tight on you.

You took a palm full of cold water and threw it on your face in hopes that your cheeks would cool down a little. Once you opened the door and went outside you saw Jungkook in different clothes sitting on his bed with two bowls in his hands.

When the boy looked up at you, you could see his cheeks visibly flush red. If only you could read his mind you would know how much in awe he was right now.

Jungkook had always known that you were pretty, it was no secret from the whole world, people simped after you for a reason. But right now, in his clothes, with your face bare of any makeup you were absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous.

"I- ummm... I heat up some pasta from lunch... hope you don't mind leftovers." His voice was once again too small. Like he lost all the confidence you saw back there in the party.

"No, Thank you so much. I was hungry." You said taking a seat beside him and taking the bowl from his hand. You let out a tiny moan after taking the first bite. "This is delicious, did you make this." He only nod his head in answer.

The next few minutes were spent as you two ate in silence, enjoying the meal he cooked. Your mind went back to what he said to you at the party.

"Jungkook?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you really think that I should care about what people say about me?"

"Not people. I just think that you let your friends take you for granted. A lot. If they really are your friends they wouldn't talk shit about you like that."

This is the biggest sentence you heard Jungkook saying till now, that too without stuttering. You smiled at him and he got shy again. the tip of his ears along with the apple of his cheeks started flushing.

"What?"

"Nothing, just. Ever since Yoongi and I broke up, i kind of took on that whole 'it girl' role. And I don't really care about what people say or call me and maybe that's why none my friends care either, but... it feels nice to have someone get mad on your behalf."

When Jungkook looked at your eyes and the little smile on your face he could finally see you, not the girl people describe and not the girl his brother seemed to hate so much, he could see you, he couldn't understand if you were the same person who supposedly hurt so many people and broke so many hearts.

You noticed how his eyes traveled to your lips and then back to your eyes.

"I am... You can sleep here, I-I'll just take the couch in the hall."

"Its okay, i guess... we can share a bed."

You suggestion almost made him hiccup. He is almost 23 years old and he has never shared a bed with another woman, well beside his mom and cousins obviously.

"Umm, no its okay...I can just take the couch." Truth was that Jungkook wasn't sure if he will be able to breath properly if he slept beside you.

"Come on Jungkook, I won't bite." You said while putting your hand on his shoulder, as soon as you hand touched him he jumped up from the bed as if you shocked him.

"Goodnight, if you need anything just wake me up...or whatever." With that he picked up a pillow and left the room.

*******

The next day, when Jungkook walked into his Psychology class, you were already sitting there, waving your hand at him and patting the empty seat beside you. Of course, Jimin was on your other side, looking more uninterested than ever.

Jungkook wasn't aware that you were in the same class; he had never noticed you before. He began searching for another seat to avoid being distracted by you throughout the class. However, he couldn't find any available seats that weren't at the back.

"Hi Jungkook." You said once he finally settled down beside you but received no reply from the boy and it made you frown, was he seriously going to pretend that nothing happened last night, like those few minutes of bonding were nothing.

"I recently transferred classes." You informed him about the tiny detail. "You have to help me with whatever that's been going on." you said as he silently put down his stuff beside you. He sat down without doing much to acknowledge your existence but you looked around and saw there were many vacant seats in the hall and he chose to sit beside you, so he's not completely ignoring you or anything.

"I don't understand a single thing this man is saying." you exclaimed quietly but loud enough.

"Yes, and thanks to you we are stuck here." Jimin rolled his eyes beside you.

"Can you please help me catch up after lecture?" You looked at Jungkook.

"Since when do you care about academics?" Jungkook asked while writing down whatever the old man was saying.

"Since now. Pretty please?" The boy looked at you as you batted your eyelashes and sighed.

"Fine. I don't have any other class after this, I can help you study."

You almost exclaimed loudly but then recalled how rude and unfiltered Mr. Hastings was so you sat quietly for the rest of the lecture.

Once the lecture finally ended and you saw Jungkook preparing to get out of the class, you quickly got up to follow him. "I'll see you guys at the cafe ok?" you told your best friend and without waiting for a reply ran after Jungkook.

"Where are we going?"

"To the library."

"I thought you don't have any classes after this. Neither do I. Why can't we just leave?" You whined, feeling slightly irritated by his unexpected behavior. It's not like his behavior was new—he'd been like this from the beginning. But after last night, you really thought something had shifted. You didn't just imagine everything, did you? This morning he even made you a breakfast sandwich and arranged an Uber for you.

"I like studying in the library." Of course he does!

"Let's just go to your place." You said while trying and failing to drag him with you. 'Wow, he sure is pretty strong' "Come on, Jungkook. Pleaseeeee! I hate that library, Its so silent and cold."

Jungkook bit his lips while contemplating your offer. 'God you are so irresistible' Last night Jungkook almost forgot about all the promises he made to his brother. His beliefs towards you were slowly changing, he knew you were not the monster everyone made you to be, quite the opposite actually. Still, he believed hanging with you was like walking on burning coals, he was ought to get burned.

Jungkook didn't say anything. He just let you happily drag him out of this dreadful campus. He thinks he has spent the whole night alone with you at his place without letting himself lose control, he's pretty sure he can do a few more hours.

*******

Somehow this afternoon Jungkook was much less nervous than last night. Thank god he decided to clean the whole place right after you left. You were sitting on his bed with your pretty legs under your butt as your wide eyes looked up at him.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"Just water." He nodded and left to grab a bottle from his kitchen.

'Calm down Jungkook, you are just gonna help her study and then she's gonna leave'. Wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatshirt Jungkook reentered his room only to find you out of the cardigan that was covering you, leaving you only in a beige camisole and a pair of white shorts.

"I hope you don't mind. Your room's kinda warm"

"Its okay. Water." He handed you the bottle with almost shaky hand.

"Thanks."

"We should start, if you wanna cover all the topics before Mr. Hastings gives off assignments. He's pretty brutal while checking the papers."

For the next half and hour or so Jungkook has gone through 5 pages of his notes with you, or maybe 3; you weren't really counting. You would be lying if you said that you understood everything that came out of his pretty mouth, Psychology was not really one of the hardest subjects that you chose but he was just too pretty for you to focus on any thing besides him.

"You are not focusing." Jungkook said blatantly as you sat in front of him on his bed, giving him heart eyes while he just poured his heart to you about the schools of psychology.

"I totally am, I just listened to everything you said, and I totally agree."

"Really? Then which school emphasizes the role of unconscious conflicts, early childhood experiences, and defense mechanisms in the development of psychological disorders?"

"Ummm...the middle school?"

"NO the psychodynamic school." this was the first time you were seeing Jungkook speaking so loudly and passionately about something, and honestly it was a turn on. "Did you listen to anything I just said?"

"Sorry, I promise I'll focus from now on."

"Do, you want to take a break?" You were surprised that Jungkook was the first one who suggested to take a break and not you.

"Yeah sure, What should we do?" You asked suggestively knowing very well that Jungkook will not even think about the million things that you want to do to him right now but a girl can always hope right?

"Umm, I have video games, if you wanna play? Or we can watch anime." both the options were way different from what you were hinting so you took the matters in your own hand.

"Or..." You scooched closer to the boy, "We could make out." All the oxygen from Jungkook's body left him right there. His whole face was suddenly red and hot and he had no idea if you were just joking or if you were serious.

"Y-you want to do that?"

"You don't?" Of course he did, that is all he had thought about ever since you started talking to him.

"Wh-why me?" His question made you laugh lightly.

"Jungkook. Is it not painfully obvious that I am attracted to you?" As a matter of fact you have never tried hiding that you have a crush on him, not from him, not from anybody. So you were not sure why he was so surprised by your confession.

"But why me?" It broke you heart that he was not aware of how painfully gorgeous he was.

"Because-" You moved closer and removed his iPad from his hands , practically sitting on his lap. "I think you are the most gorgeous and sweetest person I've ever met in my entire life." You slowly reached for his face with your right hand removing his glasses, testing the waters. You would never do anything that would make him even slightly uncomfortable. "And you have beautiful eyes. Is this Ok?" Jungkook's voice was caught in his throat, all he could offer you was a nod which made you giggle.

"Do you want me to continue?" The conscious side of his brain was saying no, reasoning with him, what would he tell his brother? But his body was possessed, possessed by lust and the touch of your soft hands. His hands were suddenly involuntarily reaching out for you, he was craving to touch you, hold you and finally kiss you.

"Yes, please."

"As you wish, baby boy." Your lips finally met his soft ones and he felt like he has reached euphoria. He had completely lost control over his body. His hand grabbed you by the waist as hard as he could without hurting you and pulled you onto his laps.

His heart was beating so loudly that he was scared he would go into a cardiac arrest. The first few strokes of his lips were a little awkward, considering it was not a daily occurrence for him like you but after a few soft kisses his lips found the perfect rhythm with yours.

You smiled into the kiss as he slowly gained confidence and started kissing you more fiercely. His kisses were so soft and smooth that it felt like you have been kissing him daily. Soon you felt him opening his mouth a little wider so you took the opportunity and slipped in your tongue, he tasted like strawberries and mint, reminding you of his sweet taste in beverages.

"Wow!" you exclaimed as soon as he pulled away for some air. "You are a great kisser."

"T-thank you, so are you."

"Aww don't get shy now." you said pointing at the pink hue rising up his neck and to his cheeks. "So? you want to continue or you want to go back to studying?" You asked half seriously, hoping to god he wouldn't choose the second option.

"I think you've studied enough for today."

You let out a tiny giggle before crashing your lips again on his. You took his hand and dragged it up your chest, granting him permission to touch you. his hand stayed there for a second before giving your breast a tiny squeeze, pulling out a moan from you.

It wasn't much later that you started grinding your hips against his, feeling his very prominent boner through his pants. After a few circular motion of your hips, he was a moaning mess in your hands.

His shaky hands started pulling at your top with urgency, wanting to feel more of your exposed skin. You helped him take off your top and he sat still for a moment, looking at your breast like a little kid looking at a carnival.

"You wanna touch them?" You asked, guiding his hand to the hook of your bra and he nodded very eagerly. After the little piece of cloth came off his lips didn't waste a single second before coming in contact with your nipple, sucking on it as if it had the cure of all diseases. His tongue did a fantastic job making you whimper and moan on his lap.

"Oh my god, baby, you are so good at this." you cried holding the back of his head and guiding his mouth to all the right places.

Your lips wanted to taste him again so you did and this time he was the most confident. You had no idea how his kisses improved so much in a matter of few minutes, but you were not complaining. His tongue explored every corner of your mouth and his lips sucked in yours like a candy.

It was your turn now to pull at his t-shirt until it was thrown away in another corner of his room and there was no barrier between both of your upper bodies.

You sat there for a few seconds, admiring the view. He really was gorgeous, he was lean but very muscular, you knew he was hiding something delicious under all those baggy clothes.

Your fingertips ran along the smooth honey like skin until they reached the hem of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face asking for permission. He looked a little nervous.

"I want to suck your cock, Jungkook. I promise it will feel nice." He contemplated your offer for a few seconds before finally nodding his head yes and you gave him another kiss out of joy.

You didn't waste too much time before pulling his sweatpants and briefs down his thighs. His cock spring up at your touch making you almost drool. You have had sex with a lot of men A LOT, but you swear that you have never seen a prettier dick. Or maybe it looked so pretty because of the man it was attached to.

You leaned down and left tiny kisses along his thighs making his cock angrier and darker. It was so thick that you couldn't wrap your whole hand around it. You could already imagine how good it would feel inside you.

As soon as you gave a kitten lick on the tip, Jungkook let out a loud groan.

"Ple-please."

"Please what baby?"

"Please __, do something. It feels so nice."

You let out another giggle at his desperation and decided not to torture him any further. His one hand supported him up from the bed as the other one grabbed your head and pushed it further down, making you swallow his cock until it reached the back of your throat.

His precum tasted like butter, smooth and salty. You looked up at the boy while bobbing your head up and down, his eyes were closed and mouth was hung open as he moaned your name again and again like a mantra.

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, what you couldn't fit in your mouth as your tongue constantly licked the head. His orgasm came without any warning, hitting your chest and face and your quickly wrapped your mouth around the tip in order to not waste any more of it. It would be such a shame to waste the cum from such a pretty cock.

You swallowed all his load and giggle when you looked at his expression. He looked like he was about to ask you to marry him.

"I'm sorry, i should have warned you." He said and you followed his eyes to the droplets of cum sitting prettily between both your breasts.

"Its ok, I like surprises." You said taking his t-shirt that he handed you to wipe his cum.

His eyes couldn't seem to look away from you. You've always been beautiful, but at this moment, you looked otherworldly. With your tousled hair and nearly bare face, he had never encountered anyone more stunning. When he kissed you this time, he was entirely confident; it was brief yet filled with intense passion.

"Teach me?" You looked at him confusingly.

"I want to do something for you, please you, make you--... I want to make you cum, teach me how to." You smiled at his request.

"Maybe some other time. You look tired right now, lets take a nap."

Some other time. You said 'some other time', does that mean it was not a one time deal with him.

He nodded at your suggestion and pulled up his sweatpants and briefs. Just as you were about to get up from his bed to give him his privacy his hand pulled you to his chest and wrapped around you tightly.

"Sleep with me?" He pleaded with a soft voice and you obliged happily.

As you slipped into slumber Jungkook couldn't help but wonder, was this post orgasm bliss that he was experiencing or did something just shift inside him? He suddenly felt anger towards his brother, towards everyone who has ever spoken ill about you.

It seemed impossible that someone so mean could be so sweet to him alone. He wanted to protect you, even though he knew he wasn’t strong enough. Still, he would do everything he could to ensure that no one ever harmed you.

******

When you woke up from your nap it was pretty dark outside Jungkook's window, you don't know how many hours you slept but it was one hell of a sleep.

Jungkook was still sound asleep, his head on your chest and arms wrapped around your waist. You smiled to your self once you heard him snore. 'wow even he snores so prettily'.

You wanted to pee so bad but you were unable to even move under him. You laid there for a few more minutes not wanting to wake him up but the urge to take a leak just became unbearable.

"Jungkook..." You shook him slightly, "Baby, I need to use the restroom."

"Why?" He asked in his sleepy voice making you laugh.

"Why? Why do people use the toilet, silly?"

"Just do it on the bed."

"EW, Jungkook no."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He laughed before getting up and you ran to the bathroom as soon as you were free.

'Did Jungkook just make a joke.' You thought as you sat down on the toilet. It was the first time you were watching this side of Jungkook, he was always either too nervous to talk to you or too irritated. You were happy though, that he could finally be himself around you.

After you cleaned yourself and walked back inside the room Jungkook was already dressed in fresh clothes and you missed his bare chest.

"Here," he handed you a grey t-shirt. "It is clean." You were surprised as he pulled you closer to him and pecked your lips. Neither of you spoke about your departure from his place and acted like it was daily occurrence for you to spend so much time at his flat.

"So? Should we continue with our lesson?" he asked pulling you down on his lap.

"Do we have to?"

"I mean, if you want to pass his class then yes."

"Or we can think about it later and do something fun."

"How about, we study for an hour and then you could choose any game that you want to play, I have 278 games that you can choose from."

"Oh my god, 278?" You asked with wide eyes and he nodded his head. "Wow you are a nerd."

"Guilty."

You agreed with his deal and he also promised to treat you with food after the study session.

You have to admit that studying was fun with Jungkook. His concepts were so clear that he made them sound very easy to you and by the end of the hour you were proud that you finally learned something today.

"Wow that was very easy, I have no idea how that man makes all of this sound so fucking boring. You know what you should be a lecturer."

"You think so?"

"Actually no, that is a very bad idea. Nobody will listen to a single thing that you say"

"Why?"

"They will be too busy looking at that pretty face." You said in all seriousness and he started blushing again.

"Okay so you wanna play FIFA?"

*******

"Wow you are smiling, A LOT." Jimin said and gave you a side eye as you happily sipped on your matcha tea.

"I'm always smiling."

"You are, but today it looks like your face got stuck with a hanger inside."

"That's because I am happy?"

"Why? What did you smoke?"

"Nothing, can't I be happy sober."

"You can, but you are only this happy when you smoke good weed."

"Let's go its time for class." You said getting up from the couch and pulling Jimin up with you.

"Seriously what happened to you? You want to go to class again?"

"If you don't come, I'll go by myself." Your threat seemed to work on him as he rolled his eyes and started following.

"What did this Jungkook guy do to you? Did he make you join some geeks cult? Blink twice for yes." Jimin joked as both of you made your way to Mr. Aitken's hall.

"Why is it so hard to believe that I want to study and attend my classes?"

"Yeah right, you also want to bake a pie and become a housewife."

When you enter hall SF22 your eyes immediately started looking for Jungkook and they lit up as soon as they spotted him. He seemed to have noticed you as he patted at the empty seat beside him with a shy smile.

"Let's go, Chimmy."

"You want to sit in the front?"

"Yeah why not."

"Maybe its time for me to switch best friends."

"As anyone else would tolerate you beside me. Hi, Jungkook." You said as you sat down beside him at glared at Jimin when he didn't greet him.

"Hey man." Jungkook immediately nodded at him and return his greeting.

Jungkook wondered if anyone in this hall could figure out that you spent the entire night at his place and made out with him till the dawn. What if they found out though? Would they mock him? Would they say more awful things about you? He hated being the center of attention, especially if it was for negative reasons, but he would still prefer people to talk shit about him rather than you.

Jungkook also wonders if you had the same feeling of despair as he did when you left this morning. He questioned whether everything that was happening effected you the way it did him.

Although the sweet smile that you gave him was reassuring enough he couldn't help but think if you would become bored of him sooner or later.

You on the other hand could practically see the wheels in his head turning around and he once again looked shy and nervous. What happened to the Jungkook you saw last night? the Jungkook that was confident enough to ask you to teach him how to make you cum.

"You okay?" You asked and before he nodded with another smile. You took his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

The lecture went by neither of you saying anything, But you made sure to rub his thigh every now and then.

Once the lecture was over he didn't leave like he usually did but instead waited for you to get up first, you took him by surprise when you held out your hand for him. Jimin looked at you with a questioning look, he wouldn't say that you were not a PDA person but he has never seen you hold hands with some beside him and maybe Yoongi when you guys were together.

"I'll meet you at the cafe, Jiminie." You told your best friend giving him a side hug which he gladly returned and left with your hands in Jungkook's. He was happy for you, yes a little jealous that he had to now share his time with you with some other guy but if you were happy he wanted nothing more than that.

"Where are we going?" You asked swinging your joined hands back and forth.

"The library."

You complained a bit, but you happily went along with him. It didn’t matter where he went; you’d probably follow him even to the dumpster. You couldn’t quite explain this overwhelming desire to spend all your time with him—it had never happened to you before, not even with Yoongi. You usually needed your personal space, but with Jungkook, it felt different; he was your personal space.

The library was much quieter than usual for a Friday morning. Only a few people lingered among the shelves and chairs, and they seemed indifferent to both of you, allowing Jungkook to exhale in relief.

He was about to sit on his usual spot but you dragged him farther inside the liberary.

"I know a spot," you said, noticing the questioning look on his face as you led him to the library's unexplored section. The books were coated in dust, suggesting that no one had been here in ages—perhaps because Celtic mythology was considered a forgotten topic. Jungkook had never seen this part of the library before, and you only came here to make out in peace.

"What is this section."

"Celtic Mythology and that is paleontology, nobody comes here. Ever."

"Why?"

"I don't know, probably because nobody reads them anymore."

"That's sad. These books must have been lonely for years," he said, his voice tinged with sadness as he traced his fingers along the spine of a book. He looked as pure as the first rays of morning sunlight. It was endearing how much he cared, even for the forgotten books.

"Why are we here?" he asked, his innocence making you want to tuck him away in your pocket and shield him from the world.

"I wanted to kiss you." You were blunt like always, taking his breath away from his lungs.

"You do?"

"Umhmm, don't you?"

"I do. Very much."

"Then what's stopping you? Kiss me."

"What if- what if someone walks in?"

"Nobody comes here, trust me. I'm pretty sure half of these people don't even know the existence of this section," You said pulling him closer to you. "So... You can do whatever you like, baby. Nobody would know." Your words were enough reassurance for him. He cupped your face with both of his hands and pulled you in for a sweet and short kiss.

"Can I... can I touch you here?" He questions, fingers hovering over your covered pussy and you nodded in excitement.

His hands were shaky as they slid under your skirt and caressed your wetness through your panties. His touch was so soft yet it sent a lightning inside your body making you shiver and almost lose your balance. If it wasn't for his other hand holding your waist you would have fell down.

You held his hand and guided it inside your panty. You became so wet in just a few seconds. Jungkook was eager so he did what he craved for, dipped two fingers in your arousal and pulled them out to suck on them. The site almost made you come right there.

You tasted delicious to him, just like how he imagined all those times he did the unholy while thinking of you. It was the perfect mixture of salty and sweet

You grabbed his neck and pulled him in an eager kiss. Lips clashing away at each other like it was a battle. His hand went back inside your underwear and wasted no time before pushing in two fingers. His thumb played your clit like a guitar.

You whimpered against his lips as his other hand went inside your crop top and squeezed you like a lemon. The more he tasted your cherry lip gloss the more he craved for it.

"Jung-... baby, I'm gonna cum." You warned him and he rubbed you even even faster. His two fingers buried so deep inside you that he could stroke your walls.

As you came down from your high your fingers started to immediately work on the buttons of his jeans.

Your mouth was watering at the thought of his cock. You wanted a taste again.

"__, somebody's gonna walk in." He said as you quickly pushed him against the bookshelf and pulled down his zipper.

"Shh... if you don't make any nose, nobody would know." You murmured against his lips that were now shining with your pink lip gloss. You slowly started pumping his cock that was now hard and hot against your hand. "Do you want me to make you cum?" He hesitantly nodded and you happily sunk down on your knees to take him in your mouth.

When your warm wet lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, Jungkook realized how hard it was going to be to stay silent.

*******

Spending the night in Jungkook's room has almost became a daily occurrence to you. It has been exactly three weeks since you first gave him the best orgasm of his life.

It was now like a daily schedule that you would go to his place after college and hang out with him, sometimes it would end in you on your knees, showing him the gates of heaven and sometimes it would end innocently with the two of you cuddling and talking about anything and everything.

You have not taken the next step yet, it wasn't that he never asked you to, you just wanted him to be completely sure before doing that.

There was one more thing, you were scared. Scared to take the next step with him. What if after you have sex with him you become bored. You know you like him too much but still, you were scared to break his heart. He was too innocent for that, you can never live with yourself if you ever made him sad.

Right now you were sitting on his bed with a gaming console in your hand whining at the fact that Jungkook would let you win.

It wasn't that you were bad at playing video games, it was that Jungkook was too good, you watched at the boy with a pout as he defeated your team for the third time in a row.

"Oh my god, what are you not good at?"

"I'm going easy on you."

"Such a show off." You said, playfully rolling your eyes.

"Let's play a game that you are good at."

"Ummm... Lets play Tekken."

"Ok." He obliged before putting on the game that you demanded. "What does winner gets?" He asked and you raised your eyebrow.

"Whatever they want."

"Whatever?"

"Whatever."

"I was gonna let you win but not anymore."

"Nooo, don't be mean, go easy on me."

"You ready?" He asked and you nodded, eyes squinting at focus as you looked at the TV screen. Jungkook felt a strange kind of serenity when he looked at you. Nobody ever has been so quick to tear down his walls. You not only tore down his wall but also made a home inside.

Nobody knows you, not really. They wouldn't say those things if they did. You were sweet, kind, beautiful inside out. You were mot even a single thing that people described you to be. Quite the opposite.

"Oh my god you lost!" You exclaimed all of a sudden pulling him out of the train of his thoughts. "Oh my god, I can't believe I won, I Won."

You got up from the bed and started jumping around, if an outsider looked they would think you won a lottery and not just a video game.

"Wait, did you let me win?" You stopped jumping and stood in front of him with a not-so-threatening pout.

"What? No. I would never, you are just so good at it."

"Of course, I am." You mockingly brushed of your shoulders and Jungkook decided right there that he was in love with you. Maybe it was too soon, maybe you wouldn't reciprocate it but he was utterly and madly in love with you. And he doesn't care if you don't love him back, he would love enough for the both of you.

"Ok now what do I get?" He would honestly give you both his kidneys if you asked but you didn't. "I want you to give me piggy back ride tomorrow between all my classes." Your choice of demand made him laugh.

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Huh, i thought you would ask for my PlayStation."

"Oh my god, I could have right? I want to change my wish."

"No, no take backs."

*******

Jungkook's roommate left town for a while so you decided to take advantage of it and make dinner for the two of you. Jungkook helped you with chopping all the veggies.

"Are you sure this is how it supposed to look."

"Are you calling my shrimps ugly?"

The poor little animals have become a little black inside the frying pan but you were sure they would taste good.

"No, not ugly, they just don't look..."

"What? Edible? Fine, I'm gonna eat it all by myself, don't come begging for a piece if it tastes heavenly." You were so confident in your creation that it reminded him of that night when you made him that 'special cocktail' that tasted like piss but he didn't have the heart to tell you that.

You don't remember the last time you hung out with someone this long that too without any alcohol or weed, and yet it was the most fun you had in a while. Jungkook made you feel emotions you thought you had lost touch with. Even with Yoongi, you had never experienced this kind of pure bliss. He made you feel whole, like you didn’t need drugs or sex to fill any emptiness. With Jungkook, there’s no pressure to uphold a certain image or look flawless. You can simply be yourself, and it’s enough to make you feel truly happy.

As you served the forbidden looking dish on both of the plates he pulled out his phone to snap a picture. You couldn't help but smile, striking a playful pose for the camera. The photos turned out great—you looked flawless. The shrimp, however, was undeniably inedible. But of course, he’d never admit that.

You spat out the content of your mouth into the dustbin.

"Oh my god. EW. Stop eating it. Its so salty i feel like i gulped acid."

"I think it tastes fine." Jungkook said chewing the burnt fish.

"Spit it out."

In the end, you decided to order pizza, and despite your insistence, Jungkook insisted on paying for it. You both settled on his bed, enjoying the pizza while watching a new anime he had introduced you to.

Despite the screen in front of you flashing with gore and violence, you’d never felt as at peace as you did in that moment. With your stomach full and your head resting on his warm, bare chest, his fingers gently weaving through your hair, everything felt perfectly calm.

"Jungkook?" You asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

"Hmm?"

"Why were you so scared of me before?" Your question made him pause, now that he think of it he doesn't seem to know the answer. Sure he still remembers all those horrible things he heard and regrettably believed about you but he doesn't know why he used to be so scared of this sweetest girl he has ever met that he couldn't even form a sentence without stuttering. You have never personally been mean to Jungkook nor has he ever seen you do anything remotely as horrible as people say.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"You were so pretty, and so far out of my league that maybe I thought it was a sin to just be in the same vicinity as you." His answer made you burst out laughing.

"What? Do you still believe that?"

"Do I believe that you are the prettiest girl I've ever seen? Yes."

"No do you still believe that I am out of your league and it is a sin to be with me?"

"Yes, if anyone in college finds out I'm cuddling with the __ __ they would sacrifice me."

"Stop joking, I'm serious. You can't think that I am out of your league or something."

"You are though."

"I am NOT."

"You could literally have any guy that you point your finger at."

"And here I am, laying in your bed, begging to suck your cock every other night." Your words made him twitch inside his boxers. "You are gorgeous, smart, funny and you make me feel so good, you can't possibly think that I am out of your league."

"You know, I used to... I used to think that you were asking me out to make fun of me." His confession made you laugh again.

"What? Really?"

"I mean... there was you and then there was me. I never thought I was your type. And I never really heard good things about you either"

"My god, people really think I'm the devil don't they?"

"Who cares what they think?"

"Hmm... What else did you hear about me?"

"Nothing that matters, what matters is who you really are. And you are the kindest and sweetest person ever and you give really good head." You burst out laughing again.

"Oh my god, you heard that as well?"

"Everyone did."

"Wow, I'm glad that we put that out of question."

The anime playing on the screen was long forgotten. The boy laying in your arms was far more interesting. You stared into each other's eyes for how long you don't really know, you know you can stare into them so much more longer.

*******

Making out with Jungkook felt like an habit now. You were currently laying under him in nothing but your underwear while the anime still plays in the background on mute.

No matter how many times you kiss him you can never not be surprised by how sweet his lips taste, just like him. His hands, gentle yet strong, groped every inch of your body like he was holding onto his life.

Jungkook pulled away from your lips, looking down at your body and a sudden fire burst through him. You were so beautiful that he couldn't get over the fact that you were under him. He must have done some really great work in his past life and he was now getting rewarded for it.

"What happed baby boy?" You ask pulling him out of his train of thougts.

"I want to please you."

"You are pleasing me."

"No... like you do it for me. I want to... I want to use my mouth." You smirked, it was always so cute when he stuttered.

"I don't understand, be more clear baby." You certainly do understand but it was so much fun teasing him.

"God, I want to eat you out, __. Can I?" Your words got lost in your throat so you nodded your head in affirmation.

Jungkook started kissing a very slow trail down your body make you almost die from anticipation. When his mouth finally came in contact with your bundle of nerves, your whole body started shivering.

"Oh god baby, that's right." His hand took yours and put it in his hair as if telling you to guide him. "Use your tongue." And like ever so obedient, he did.

His tongue was warm and even though it was his first time it felt very skillful. His tongue, licked up your juices in big and wide strokes. Pouty lips sucking in your clit every now and then.

"Now put a finger inside, baby." he followed your instruction almost immediately. Long thick finger sinking in your heat while his tongue licked you.

His other free hand went up to grab at your breast, squeezing and kneading the flesh and occasionally twisting your nipples.

With a last few rhythmic strokes of his tongue and finger you were cumming.

"I'm cumming, baby boy." Your words sounded like reward to his ears. His tongue out and mouth was open, ready to drink in everything that you were about to offer.

You have never squirted in your life and this boy who looks like, he has never even seen a pussy in his life just made you squirt in like 5 minutes. You wonder what more talents were he hiding.

"Come here, baby. I want you inside me." You said pulling him by his arms, closer to you. He was already so hard that your word made him feel like he was going to pop a vessel on his dick.

You changed your position and now he was under you while you pulled out a condom from your purse and rolled it on his cock without wasting another minute.

This scene in front of Jungkook was a little too familiar, he has dreamt of this exact moment only every other night ever since you started talking to him.

Your hands guiding his to your chest and you slowly sunk down on him, your warm pussy fitted his cock like a glove. Like they were made for each other. A loud whine left Jungkook's lips as soon as you settled on his dick.

"I've dreamt of this so many times." His arousal has turned off all his filters, his confession made you smirk.

"You did? SO naughty. And you dare to act like you are the most innocent guy on this planet."

"It was because of you, you make me think all those lewd things."

"Oh yeah? Did you touch yourself after waking up?" You asked as you slowly started jumping up and down in a perfect rhythm and his words got caught in his throat. "tell me, baby. Did you?"

"Yesss... Aghh fuckkk.. Everytime."

"Mhmm. God you feel so good. Was your hand as good as my pussy?"

"No, Noth-- Ahh.. Nothing compares to this. Your pussy is so good." He cried out in pleasure as both of your rode close to your orgasms.

"Tell me, baby. What else did you dream about?"

"I- I dreamt... About you riding my face."

"You would like that wouldn't you?"

"Please... I love your pussy so much."

"Rub my clit, Jungkook." Jungkook did as told and started rubbing your clit with his thumb.

"I'm about to cum." He cried out.

"Me too baby, just hold for a few seconds."

After a few more seconds of riding his heavenly dick you both were finally coming down from your high. Lips finding each others as soon as you were done. Your bodies seemed to have calmed down as you gave each other slow and deep kisses.

"Wow, that... That was the best sex I've ever had. And I'm not just saying it, Jungkook." Jungkook's face turned pink at the compliment. Honestly he never thought he would last this long if he ever had the chance to have sex with you. "Did you like it as well?" He was shy again all of a sudden.

"Yes. I would... I would like to do it again."

"Me too, baby me too, but lets get some sleep right now."

After you you both cleaned up and jumped into his bed, you realized how tired you became. Your eyes closed as soon as your head rested on his chest.

Once your breath turned even and you fell asleep, or Jungkook thought you fell asleep he pressed his lips against your forehead and gave you a kiss. A kiss that was a lot more meaningful then any kiss on the lips.

"I love you." He whispered, thinking you were fast asleep but you heard it. You heard as his breath became even as well and he fell deep into sleep.

For once you don't feel like you have to leave. You don't feel like you are out of place and you don't feel like you are incapable of love.

For once you don't want to get up in the morning and sneak out before he's awake, instead you want to stay over, you want to have breakfast with him. You want to sit on his counter as he cooks and you want to hear him say he loves you again.

Maybe you wouldn't say it back right now if he said it when you were awake but you like to believe that one day, very soon, you will also whisper it to him as he falls asleep.

*******

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