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1kook · 4 years

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though, all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud.

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek

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#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

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cgsf · 3 years

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Teen Wolf fanfiction recs — Stiles/Jackson

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"it fills my head up and gets louder" (M) by addandsubtract | 16,538 | Derek doesn’t kill him, but it takes three days for the bite to take.

"It Creeps Up On You" 🔒 (T) by 37Cats | 3,736 | He’s fucking around at his locker, listening to Danny bitching about his new guy putting on the pressure, when it hits him. One minute he’s contemplating if the beat down would be worth telling Danny not to be that girl, the next he’s half hard and salivating because something smells just that fucking good.

"You Complete(ly Irritate) Me" (E) by rospeaks | 26,113 | Five times that it was hate sex and one time it wasn't. Stiles is pretty sure that none of this is his fault.

"let me keep you safe (let me just keep you)" 🔒 (E) by tryslora | 30,844 | When Stiles shows up unexpectedly on Jackson’s doorstep in London, Jackson has to protect him from his pack and blurts out the first thing he thinks of: that Stiles is his ex-boyfriend.

"Headstrong (I Can Be Wrong)" (T) by red_crate | 9,747 | “Are we friends?” Stiles waved a hand between the two of them. “This feels kinda like we're friends.” He made a face. “Is that weird?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. “It's weird now.” But he smiled anyway. Stiles’ answering grin made Jackson's stomach flip and his wolf strain forward.

"Well Suited" (E) by red_crate | 8,150 | “Did you get a room?” Jackson asks, impressed and almost offended at the presumptuousness of the idea. Sure, they mess around, but they’re not an item. He frowns, thinking about the quality of the hotel. “Couldn’t have been cheap.” Stiles shrugs and pulls Jackson into the elevator when it opens its doors as soon as he hits the call button. As the door closes, he says, “It’s our prom night.”

"I'll Dissolve When The Rain Pours In, When The Nightmares Take Me" (T) by clotpolesonly | 38,749 | When Stiles finally managed to contort himself the right way without causing injury, he stared at the words on his inner thigh. And then he stared some more, long enough for the water to grow cold around him, wondering if this was part of the dream. Finally he decided that it had to be real only because his subconscious was not creative enough to come up with this. There, in freckle-brown letters stark against pale skin, was the name Jackson Whittemore.

"What the Body Grasps Not" (E) by sexyvanillatiger | 21,090 | Jackson begins to hate Stiles after Mrs. Stilinkski dies, and the two develop a volatile relationship that evolves through middle school.

"the beauty of a secret." (E) by katarama | 2,049 | The first time they fell into the slick slide of wet mouths and wetter dicks was an accident. The second time was, too. And, well, three times is a pattern. So they decide it’s time for some rules.

"Metamorphosis" (E) by ahab2692 | 11,534 | Jackson deals with his demons after coming back from the dead.

"Bright Blessed Sky, Dark Sacred Night" (M) by skoosiepants | 4,955 | The first thing Stiles says to him, a sluggishly bleeding cut above his left eye, grime caked under his fingernails, a hand gripping a tattered backpack slung over his shoulder, is, "Do you have a car?" Not: hey, Jackson, what are you doing here? Not: did you just stab that fucking guy through the face? Not: was that fucking Danny? Jackson twists the metal rod out with a sick squelch and says, "No."

"Whiskey Kisses" (M) by mrecookies | 862 | He gives and takes but never says thank you or I love you because he's this, he's Jackson fucking Whittemore even though he's never going to be enough, all glistening perfection outside and torn up ash inside. Who would want a ruined boy?

"Pyrrhic" (M) by mrecookies | 600 | They both have issues, and their immature way of dealing with each other is to do this.

"Useless, But Not For Long" 🔒 (M) by ItsyRoyal | 10,125 | If Jackson isn't the best then he's nothing at all.

"A King and his Horse" (M) by calrissian18 | 13,097 | Jackson tries to take some comfort in the fact that he’d stared into Matt’s milky eyes before they zipped up the body bag over his face and that there was no way the cancer-ridden, poisoned, bitten old man hadn’t crawled off to die himself. There was nothing left seeking to control him. Not at the moment. That and the Pack had to be enough.

"Roundabout is Fair Play" (T) by calrissian18 | 3,515 | Stiles is a complete social and personal disaster. Somehow Jackson resists the urge to stab his pencil through his eye and into his brain. Two weeks with Stilinski as his lab partner. He can’t say joining the cabbage patch as their freshest vegetable is always going to seem like the worse option in that trade-off.

"There Are Waterfalls In Your Eyes, Pet" (E) by Whispering_Sumire | 77,794 | Jackson wants his power back, he wants not to feel weak and frail and like he's incapable of proving himself, of earning— fuck. He tugs on Stiles' hair again, and squeezes his hand around the boy's throat, ever so slightly, just to feel the pressure, someone else's fragility. Stiles makes a sharp, half pleasure, half wounded sort of noise, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they struggle to open again, a little dazed, his mouth, wet and pretty, parts, gives way to the visage of muscle and bone and spit and Jackson's never wanted to devour anything like this, carnally, voraciously, sadistically.

"spell it out for me" (M) by nise_kazura | 1,600 | Oh no. Stiles knows what this is. This is classic Jackson Angsting Over His Dumb Insecurities behavior. The problem is, Stiles has no idea what set it off.

"They Don't Do That At Walmart" (T) by luulapants | 1,969 | “When’s the last time you went clothes shopping?” “I don’t know!” Stiles whined. He gestured vaguely in the air. “I don’t clothes shop so much as clothes appear to me from the ether and then I keep them until the gods of decay reclaim them.” Jackson paced. He stopped. “We’re going shopping,” he decided.

"It's Interpretive" (T) by luulapants | 1,000 | Stiles wore baggy jeans, a loose flannel shirt falling around his shoulders. And he was singing. Badly. He mumbled vague noises over the majority of the song, jumping up his volume when he hit words he actually knew, or at least thought he knew. Jackson winced, but found it melting into a smile, then a laugh. He walked over. “You know those aren’t the words, right?”

"I Hope You Die (I Hope We Both Die)" 🔒 (E) by taylorpotato | 5,338 | This is what regret looks like: fucking in a bathroom, with the door locked, at some stupid party, because neither of you are supposed to want it.

••••••

"Knight of the Night" (M) by calrissian18 | 737 | Jackson grins, chest still heaving. He points at Stiles. “Princess.” Then to himself. “Knight.”

"The Doghouse Screw" (M) by ahab2692 | 18,324 | After getting the bite, Jackson's life begins to fall to pieces and he starts down a path of self-destruction. He doesn't think he deserves redemption, but Stiles disagrees.

I'll keep adding as I find them.

#teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #jackson x stiles #fic rec #fic recs #fan fiction #fanfiction #stackson

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Petal

college!sebastian stan x reader

masterlist

Summary; Your boyfriend Sebastian has been spending much time studying, hardly sparing himself a break. Finally, he sees the pros of taking one

Warnings; smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, fluff

divider by @firefly-graphics

Sebastian was to be home any minute, he had been prolifically stressed from his classes regarding his law certification, and you had decided to exhibit him a well deserved distraction that would surely take his wired brain off from the course that was practically running through his veins at this point.

It seemed that at every waking moment, he was doing something to aid his studies, and whilst that was great that he was so dedicated to passing for this insane qualification, he did need to take breaks here and there. He wasn't the only one suffering from his late nights, and his resurrection from slumber at the crack of dawn, no. You were too, you missed him, despite being in the same apartment and room as him for the majority of his spare time.

He acted as though he had no time to spare, but you were well acquainted with his schedule, especially by now. The only difference was, that he had no occupation for a moment to relax with you, or by himself. His showers took five minutes every morning and evening, it was as though he were rushing to clean himself so that he could proceed to go back to putting his nose in a book, or searching specifics online.

But tonight, you were going to cut him off. If he didn't endure a moment of mindlessness, then you were sure to go mad yourself. You were keening for his touch, all you had received in the past few weeks were chaste kisses on both your lips and forehead, as well as verbalised 'I love you's. Perhaps it was selfish, he was striving towards a great achievement in his life, and you wanted a little bit of attention, but you knew he was holding himself from any relief also.

From the minimal time that he spent under the cold stream of the showerhead, he didn't have enough time to rub one out, and there was no fear that you had of him seeing another woman. Sebastian was not like that at all, and you had the clarity of him being in the kitchen half the time, typing away on his laptop, as he ran over some old notes and updated them.

Currently, he was out, he was in his lecture. There was a span of fifteen minutes from the time that he would be on the walk home, and you knew that was exactly how long that took in your shared student apartment, because you too endured your studies. But once more, your own were pushed to the side as you speculated your appearance in the silver tapestry of your mirror.

Your hand steadied on your right hip as you posed in front of it, twisting your waist to find the most attractive angle for you in your new wear. The underwear was tight, and not to mention, completely sheer. It's see through nature made wearing it practically pointless, but considering his current frustrations, it was only fair to give something to rip off of you.

Truthfully, you had to admit, you looked damned good. There was no way he would choose studying law over ravishing your body, a spark jolted through your body as the door behind you opened, and with a seductive bite to your lip, you turned around, only to scream and cover your body with your hands, or at least to the best of your ability. "Holy fuck, don't you know how to knock?!"

"I didn't think I'd have to because your human dildo isn't here!" Anthony defended himself, having turned around, as the image of you, one of his best friends, practically in the nude, burned behind his eye balls. The fact that he had seen you made you feel sick, this was not how you had intended the afternoon to go.

"Is there a reason that you burst into my room looking for me Mackie?" The question was indeed one that you wanted to know the answer to, you still felt so exposed, although he was not looking at you. That was certainly something that you were going to avoid telling Seb, that would definitely be a big distraction from his work.

And of course, alongside that, he would have an intent to possibly murder your flat mate, and whilst Chris would be laughing at that, there would be a heavy hotness to your face, as you watched them immaturely battle. Anthony cleared his throat thoroughly, directing towards the face that he was about to speak.

"Definitely not to see you like that." Retorted the math major, shrugging the shiver off his shiver as the memory tormented him once more. "But... me and Chris were going to meet with Scarlett, Takia and Brie, we were going to see if you and Seabass wanted to join, but as I saw against my own will, you have something already planned for your dinner."

“Um yeah, no, we’ll pass. Thanks tho buddy.” Oh god, to say you felt awkward was an understatement. If you were wearing clothes, or at least more socially appropriate ones, you’d go to him and give him a typical punch on the shoulder. Though, if you were clothed more body wear, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Only things like this happened in college flats, that was one thing that could be confirmed.

“Okay then. Good to know...” Anthony closed the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen. He went grab himself an apple, and realised then that it was an unfortunate consequence, but he had lost his appetite. There had been nothing wrong with your appearance - nothing at all - but you were his flat mate and friend! And, you had a boyfriend, whom was also a great reference of social interaction for him.

The sound of keys interlocking with the outside of the door echoed through the kitchen, someone was outside, and he’d be write in assuming that it was Sebastian. Chris was presently occupied by scouring the internet for ways to surprise the girl he was currently hanging with, and honestly by that, Anthony was scared to enter his room.

It could have been anything that he was searching, but to his contrasting luck, the last resident of their flat entered, creases firm on his brow, from thinking too hard. Sebastian was mulling over the lecture that his professor had given his class. Remember to take a break every now and then. Maybe he was right, a break couldn't postpone him from graduating him that much, could it.

Perhaps he was putting it all off, because after receiving his degree, the four of you would have to find somewhere else to live, and a part of Seb was inclined to ask you individually to move in with him. A one bedroom apartment would be cheaper than one with three rooms, and atop of that, he wouldn't have to be cautious of minor things like walking around the flat in little to no clothing, or fucking you on the kitchen counter.

They were all coupley things that he had wishes to do, but because there were another two men residing with you and him, albeit them being your friends, he didn't allow you to do so in anything less than one of his shirts that cascaded down your thighs, so that if you weren't wearing panties, everything would be concealed. Anthony gulped, remembering he had seen you in your surprise for this man, and gosh, did he want to keep quiet about his accidental peek.

Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type, it was rather refreshing how he found that to be an unappealing trait, however, it would still not settle well that someone saw his girl, in a compromising choice of wear that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He would surely make it clear that you were his, and thus the fucking in the kitchen that he dreamt about would be more than likely to unfold, as he rammed you against the cupboards, caring not if guests were due.

“Hey.” It was a breath of fresh air to speak to someone who was not on his course, it was as though he had become estranged from the people closest to him during this part of the term. Thus a striking pang of guilt landed in his chest as he wondered how you must have felt. He hadn’t touched you in any intimate sense in weeks, it certainly felt like years.

That truth gave him no pride, he dropped his items on the counter, planning on returning to them after he had tended to greeting you. A long kiss sounded nice, strung by a chord of untwined tongues that groomed the insides of your mouth, as you reciprocated. If he was very generous to himself, he’d perhaps lay down for a moment, and allow his pianist hands to wander for more than a moment, stroking them up and down your thighs, until he gave supple attention to your sweet delicacy, dipping down to kiss it and run his fingers over the beautiful gates that only he was allowed to surpass through.

Anthony muffled a reply to him, before shuffling out the room, casting him a weird side eye, but Sebastian thought little of it as his mind was preoccupied with something other than his studies. Oh, and how he didn't mind. The mental image of your nude portrait blessing his eyes was enough motivation to have him striding at a fast, yet considerable pace, towards the door to your shared bedroom.

He knew you must have been inside, he saw your lanyard hanging on the coat rack, that was literally a makeshift piece of wood that you had drunkenly returned with one night, along with a very much intoxicated Paul Rudd. There had been construction nearby, and you thought that it was possible to turned the sharp edged plank with nails sticking out as a bedframe. Least to say, Sebastian did not allow that to happen, knowing that one morning, you would end up spiking your scalp against one of the rusted nails.

People had gotten hurt by it from where it was already, there was that time that Tessa had tried to lean on it for a photo, that in retrospect was an applicant towards your photography course, but that didn't end well, you were pretty sure there was still a streak of her blood stained into one side. That may have been why Chris had turned its weight around after that. However, none of you had the money to spare to invest in a real rack, so for now it stayed.

It sure as hell wasn't coming with you guys when you moved out, that was one thing that Sebastian was going to ensure. If Anthony wanted it, then so be it, if all went to plan, the pair of you wouldn't be living with the lovable goof when the time came. Turning the knob to the room, Sebastian heard a gasp, and thus after he shut it, he saw you wrapped up in your robe, your head cocked to the side as you seductively tried to settle on your small double bed.

"You made me jump Sebba." No, he could tell that you had been taking a short nap, as though you had wanted to forget some details from your day. And that you did, and you hoped that Anthony did as well. "Have you got much work to do bubs?" You raised yourself on your elbows and shuffled towards him as he came to sit on the side of the mattress.

"Think I'm going to take a short hiatus from it for a few hours." Now that certainly sounded pleasant, you hummed at his words, stroking his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his hand that moved cup your cheek. "Have I been neglecting my little petal?" It was a name he used whenever he was seeking forgiveness, but this time, you shook your head, frowning, as you settled a small smile on your face.

"You've been understandably busy, I get that. I'm not going to go as far as to use that word babes, you've just had a little time to yourself and your schoolwork, and that is fine." He tapped your chin, cocking his head to the side, inviting you to straddle his lap. You'd have been stupid if you refused after all the time that you had spent mentally apart from him, so without another hint, you clambered over his thighs, a giddy expression corrupting your face.

"This is why I love you. So open minded, and not to mention, that mind of yours has had me doing some thinking." Nodding in a current to prompt him to continue, his hands eased their lodging onto your bare thighs, stroking the skin with large soothing swipes, making any hair on your body stand on edge, as he averted his eyesight to the split of your gown that crisscrossed around your chest. It wasn't a sexual focus however, it was more so as though he feared a rejection of one kind.

"Hope you're not gonna propose us having a kid or something, because now is certainly not the time." At your humour, he sincerely laughed, causing a calm to wash over you and him, as he finally looked you in the face. “Unless you mean buying a plant, our last one died, and now you use the old pot to stub out your blunts." You could see the improvisational container as you turned your head to the side, seeing its white exterior be a gradient of light to shielded grey.

"I want you to move in with me." Sebastian responded straightly, bracing his slightly nervous palms to the divot of your waist, as he grasped the skin below your ribs, swirling the pads of his thumbs across your skin, caressing each nimble pore on that part of your body. His breath captured the side of your neck, as he licked a sweet line across a vein that he specifically picked out using his

"We already live together silly. Unless we're gonna move to mars." As you spoke, your brows optimistically raised, as your forearms found a home around the back of his neck, as you pressed tentative kisses to his clean jaw. A series of giggles evicted from you as you darted your tongue out to taste his sharp skin, your hand slipping down to control his own, trailing his touch beneath your gown so that the tips of his fingers were brushing the mesh of your underwear that was poised in a curve upon your hipbone.

"As much as the space nerd in me would love that, and not to mention you would make one foxy astronaut, I meant, after this, and here, we find a place for just you and me. I get if you don’t-“ you pressed your left forefinger to his lips, humming with a smile as he shared a gentle kiss upon your skin. He took the digit into his mouth, sucking the skin and swirling his tongue around the crescent of your nail.

“That sounds... perfect.” Ushering your finger from out past his lips, and the barrier of his nipping teeth, you languidly stroked his bottom lip, spreading the small extent of saliva that had coated your finger. “I’m so happy you’re taking a break Sebba, you deserve it. There’s something I want to show you baby, I know you’re going to like it.”

“Is it under this robe by any chance?” Obliging his answer with a supporting action, you allowed his hands to remain beneath the sleek material, as you untied the thick strand that tied the two sides together around your body. Pushing the dark silk from your shoulders, you revealed the design of petals that prompted through the thin material of your undergarments, everything exposed through the sultry and intimate pieces.

“Do you like it?” You seemed to have forgotten about Anthony seeing you in the internal wear, and from Sebastian’s honed gazing at your full breasts, your nipples sternly grew hard, telling him without need for word that he was silently turning you on. A sigh escaped from him, as he plucked at the seam of your panties, tugging lightly at the side to drag the material up your slit, grasping a light moan from your intimately affected lungs.

“My lovely petal, like is an understatement. You do all this for me, I don’t think I’m going to know how much this was, especially where we’re supposed to be budgeting.” Seb quirked his unbrushed brow, pressing his lips against the column of your throat, intaking the smell and pungent taste of your floral perfume. “But I’m not going to complain, because seeing you like this is certainly worth a fine penny. Is it ungrateful for me to want it off of you though?”

“Wait.” You instructed him, pressing your tongue into the divot of his chin, swiping a line of saliva through the bone structure. “I think we should get my money’s worth. First, I want to get my fill of your appreciation, and then maybe, maybe then I’ll allow you to discard piece by piece from my skin.” Your dominant hand pressed against his growing bulge as a you slid off his lap, running your nose along his thighs, as you fiddled with the purchase of his jeans, him helping you tug the denim off, and down his thick thighs.

“You’re so good to me.” He leaned back, curling his fists into the sheets, as he watched you enduringly pat him over his boxers, drawing a spot of precum to seep out onto the white cotton. “My beautiful petal, hungry for my cock, you want it, don’t you? Want to suck my hard cock, practically starving for it, ain’t ya?” Profusely nodding, you drooled as he twitched, and pushed down his underwear, revealing his uncut, and growing cock.

“Holy shit.” Escaped you as a breathy conjunction of two words, your palm reaching out to rotate his foreskin in your hand, pushing the layer back gently to reveal his hidden slit. Your tongue darted out over the flushed head, suckling on the sensitive portion, spoiling yourself with the salty taste of his aroused skin. “You have such a pretty cock baby.” Pressing a kiss along the length, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, before returning to the tip, swallowing down his cock in your throat.

“Fuck.” Your boyfriend revelled in the pleasure, one of his hands capturing your hair in its hold, running his fingers through your locks as you bobbed your head. Gargled sounds choked out from your easing throat, as you continued your administrations, making Seb squeeze his eyes shut, as he endured the pleasure that you pledged him with. “Baby...”

You moaned around his cock, your glazed irises peeking up at him, before pulling off, a strand of saliva connecting you to his hung length. “Say it.” Was his demand as his hand pressed the cheeks of your face together, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout. It was a notion of past experiences that reminded you of what he was speaking of, you blinked your lashes innocently towards him, steadily breathing through your nose as he patiently awaited for you to carry out his order.

“I’m your cockslut.” You mumbled out, spit pooling out of your mouth and rolling down the cleavage of your lips, descending onto your chin, and slipping to be a river down your chest, playing hide and seek in the cups of your sheer bra. “Love your fat cock, and your large balls, and the way your mouth exhibits complete bliss over my pussy.” He tilted your head to the side, as he leaned down, his spare hand reaching behind you to remove your bra, leaving it hanging loosely off from your shoulders.

“How about I eat your cunt, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you petal?” A whine slipped from your lips as you shouldered off the floral laced bra, discarding it on the bedroom floor, as you waded your legs about so that you could do the same with the slim lined panties. “Come on then, get up on the bed pretty girl, let me at that pussy.” Doing as he said, you clambered onto the mattress, your front against the sheets as you tried to position yourself. A slap rumbled off your ass cheek, as Sebastian struck down on the globe of fat, straggling a surprised moan from your lips.

It seemed like he wanted you to remain on your stomach, and so you did as he breathed a swab of cool air upon your clenching lips, swiping his tongue from your heavy clit to your soaking entrance. “Sebs, do something, please.” You collapsed your face into the bed, wiggling your ass towards his face, earning yourself another spank to your behind. It stung, but it was a hot heat that granted you a minor bit of relief; it was certainly better than nothing.

And then, his tongue probed at your entrance, test tasting your cunt as his muscle flicked deliriously over your clit, his forefinger prying at your slit, and slipping without struggle inside of your walls, evoking a withering moan to collapse out from your chest. Another digit slunk through your folds, filling your further, as his pace increased, his mouth surrounding your clit, and rolling the bud around with his instigating tongue. “Petal, pass me the lube.”

With a light head, you blindly reached your hand across to on top of his bedside table, locating the bottle with your fiddling hands, tossing it back towards him. A thump indicates that it did not land on the mattress as planned, instead the container of lubricant hit him in the forehead. A frown covered his face as he shook his head, removing his fingers from your folds, as he grasped the bottle, splurging some of the clear and slippery liquid onto his fingertips.

Seb spread it around his fingers, rubbing it onto his skin, as he applied a little onto your tight hole, prying at your puckered entrance with his lubricated digits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gently rubbed your face against the sheets as Sebastian entered his fingers into your ass, quickly thrusting them in and out of you. “Feels so good Sebby, shit.” He continued his administrations with a clenched wrist, evicting pleasure upon you as you practically sobbed onto your shared bed. “No, no-“

He removed his fingers, as well as his own shirt that was still covering his chest. Seb clambered off the bed for a moment, locating a condom, as he gave his cock a couple of jerks, rolling the avast protection onto his length, as he positioned himself on his knees behind you. He entered you swiftly, returning his fingers back into your tighter hole, as he began to thrust into both of your entrances. Sounds of pleasure were compelled out from your lungs, as you half screamed his name; there were tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you endured wafts pleasure from both intimate angles.

He curled his fingers within you, picking up his pace as his hips profusely clashed against your own. He was chasing a high, whilst simultaneously reducing you to nothing but a racer to your own. “So fucking tight; in both holes.” His teeth clenched as he moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching harshly around him, as he filled the condom with his white and warm seed. He remained inside of you as he brought one hand down to your cunt, playing with your clit, as he sternly thrusted his fingers into your ass.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, cumming around his softened cock, and mewling into your own wrist. Sebastian extracted his tender cock from within you, also removing his fingers, as he swiped off the condom, tying to open side so that no cum would spill out, and then discarding it in the bin. “Shit, I was wanting some attention from you, but I didn’t know I was going to get that.” You laughed lightly, feeling a little hazy and drunk from your numbing orgasm.

In turn, your boyfriend laughed too, grabbing his shirt from off the ground, and lightly pulling you up, helping you into the baggy material. He pressed a sweet kiss upon your forehead as he rolled to be laid beside you, bringing your sweaty body into his matching side, watching through appeased lids at how you curled yourself into him. “I love you darling.”

“I love you too Seb.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his soft nipple, as his arms locked adoringly around you. “And I’m so proud of you for putting your all into your course.” Your nails stroked down his stomach, as the two of you laid upon the sheets, rather than underneath them.

“Of course I would, it’s for our future in the long term of things.” He stated, brushing any loose strands of hair out from your face. “But I guess it’s okay to take a break sometimes. And that, well that was certainly worth the time away from studying, it always is with you.”

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letters-from-eros · 4 years

Note

I'm glad you're back from your hiatus 😊 can I request an imagine where the female reader is secretly dating Bakugou, and one day while changing, the girls see a hickey on the reader's neck. At the same time, the guys see Bakugou's back covered in scratches. The class puts the pieces together and sets up a plan to catch them in the act. Sorry if it's too detailed or long though 🥺 your blog is awesome!

A/N: I'm glad to be back, babes! This is a really cool request and there's no such thing as an overly detailed request. I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Form: One-Shot.

Warnings: Implied sex, harsh language (because its Bakugo we're dealing with here)

Left a Mark.

Katsuki is nothing short of a horny teenager when it came down to it. That was something you had to realize and understand. It was far from the first time he had left his mark on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be his last.

He was overall neutral to the idea of your relationship being secret, he was more happy to have you by his side then anything. People knowing that fact was an afterthought. But... The circumstances would become long forgotten when things would get hot and heavy between you two.

It was far from the first time you had to scold him for leaving a hickey on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be your last.

"Y/N!" Uraraka called out, her usual innocent tone unwavering.

"Hm?" You quickly looked at the girl who shouted your name, a small smile playing on your face. Everytime you look at her you get a reminder of Katsuki's crude nickname for her, 'Round-Face.' Crude, but certainly fitting.

"You have a hickey!" The smile quickly dropped and your cheeks warmed up like the sun was shining directly at them. It was hard to ignore the sudden feeling of so many eyes on you...

"Don't worry about it," You quickly dismissed, your eyes glued to the inside of your locker as you slipped on the rest of your gym uniform.

"I bet it was Shouto! I see the way you always look at him!" Mina teased and suddenly, the entire locker room erupted with your classmate's own assumptions on who had left the hickey on you....

"Yeah!! Get some, Baku-Bro!" Kirishima yelled out, in the locker room adjacent to the girls'. His voice echoed off the walls, only adding to the annoyance Katsuki got from him.

"Don't call me that, shitty hair!" Bakugo was quick to insult and refuse the "endearing" nickname his friend had to give before actually picking up on what he had to say.

The sudden and hard slap on his back was enough to get his attention and the overall ache it left was enough to get him to remember just what is on his back.

"Damn! The woman has a pair of claws on her! Who the lady?" Denki questioned with a borderline proud look on his face. He must be oblivious that he's truly rolling the dice with his life treating Bakugo this way.

"None of your damn business!!" Bakugo yelled, the majority of the males in the room were quick to mind their own business, but one more comment escaped someone's lips..

"Uraraka's nails have been getting kind of long, lately.."

Of course, the one and only Minoru Mineta would be stupid enough enough to make another comment while Bakugo was teeming with pure anger.

The girls and boys of 1A had exited the locker rooms practically at the same time, all choosing to selectively ignore the burning smell wafting off of Mineta and a small explosion sized hole in his uniform. They all stood in a scrambled bunch, all chatting amongst themselves. Honestly, it was no surprise that their teacher would be late to the class...

You stood beside Katsuki because its what felt natural. What neither of you knew is that you both were too embarrassed to even look at each other in the moment. Even after all the merciless teasing had ceased, the feeling of overall humility was yet so subside.

A thick wave of awkwardness surrounds you both, seemingly muting the gossiping whispers that actually centered around yourself and your hotheaded boyfriend..

"You guys won't believe it!" Mina excitedly whisper-yelled to the tightknit group of friends whom dubbed themselves the baku-squad. "Y/n had a hickey on her shoulder!"

"No way! Bakugo had scratch marks on his back right now," Denki responded, just as eager as Mina.

There was about three whole minutes of talking about who could've been the one who left the scratches and hickeys amongst the single-braincelled group of friends before the one voice of reason amongst the group spoke up.

"Guys, they left the marks of each other.." Sero finally explained, a disappointed tone hung from his words, he was truly waiting for when they would figure it out themselves but... Alas, it seemed as if he was the only one with a single problem solving cell is his body.

"Ohhhhhhh...." The three finally connected the dots before shifting their gaze to the pair standing next to each other. Did they always stand that close together, was a mutual thought between the group (and the answer was yes)

"Well are you sure its them? I had ending up betting on the hickey being from Shouto.." Mina mumbled, slightly upset. She wasn't against the idea of her two friends dating, more the fact that she lost a bet and had to treat a lot of people to food if Sero was right.

"Pretty sure," Sero exaggerated his words to create a sarcastic tone, but that only sounded like uncertainty to his friends.

"Well I actually bet on it being Y/n," Kirishima announced proudly. Through his slight bouts idiocracy at times, he knew his best friend well. "How are we gonna prove that its them, though?"

The question lead everyone to a similar solution.... Catch them in the act, of course. This group of kids were far from stealthy, but they were determined to make things work.

"Do you want to ditch these losers and head to my room?" Bakugo whispered into your ear, the warm breath paired with his low tone never failing to sense a shiver down your spine.

"Don't call our friends losers!" You whisper yelled, glancing at your closest friends who dotted across the dorm's kitchen. They were arguing over what food to eat when they studied, unknowing to the fact that yourself and Bakugo had already went over this subject together as a form of a date.

He rolled his eyes and straightened his posture from leaning down to your ear taking a half step away from you, assuming the reprimanding words overall meant a no.

"Hot chips are overrated!!" Denki yelled and you're first instinct was to glance towards your boyfriend, who was... Passionate about his hot food, to say the least.

"Fuck this!! You guys can fucking study on your own!" Katsuki already didn't want to be there, then Kaminari went and said some dumb shit.

But that wasn't the only fuel to his anger and when you get to know the hot headed boy, you can tell if what he says he's angry about is what he's angry about. Having been his partner for as long as you have, you could tell he wasn't storming away solely because Kami said he didn't like hot chips.

He was frustrated, so, so frustrated and sick of this "secret relationship."

He was thinking about his locker accident, way more than one would think he should be doing. Why couldn't he just answer the barrage of questions with a proud smirk? Were you not proud of him? Ashamed, even? Insecurity hit him like a fucking truck, and he couldn't even ask for a quick hug and words of comfort because.. Other people were around? It sounded stupid when really thought out, and he wish he did when you first asked for the relationship under wraps.

He took a sharp turn around and walked away, ignoring the pleas from the group of people who were far from academics, but you on the other hand were more concerned about Bakugo himself.

"Don't worry guys, I got him," You had mumbled to your friends before quickly scurrying away to follow him.

The plan was going good so far, since you two did separate from the group, not exactly on such negative pretenses but.. That was the goal.

"Bakugo!" You called to get no response, just him continuing forward in the direction of his dorm room.

"Bakugo, slow down!" Did he... Did he just start walking faster?

"Katsuki!" You yelled once you got to the hall his dorm was on, he finally stopped. "Tell me what's wrong."

He quickly turned to you, an unreadable emotion plastered on his face, the only thing that could be deciphered is that it certainly wasn't happy.

"Do you a-fucking-shamed of me or something?!" He yelled, his voice cracking along with your heart. It didn't take much thought to figure out he was upset about the current state of the relationship. Even though you thought you had gotten used to with his sudden yelling, you couldn't stop yourself from flinching away from the sudden harsh-sounding words.

"Katsu, of course I'm not. I'm so sorry for making you believe otherwise," You began what you meant to be a comforting speech but the blonde didn't let you continue.

"Then why the hell can't anyone know we're together, huh?! Why-" His angry yelling came to a halt when you put both hands on either side of his face. The feeling of your soft touch almoat instantly calmed him down.

"Look at me," You demanded, his red hues bore into yours, they were progressively getting softer by the second. "The only reason I asked for our relationship to be in secret is because I wanted to keep our love between us. You're my boyfriend no matter how many people know. I'll never be ashamed of you, I love you, K-"

A rushed, greedy kiss came from the slamming of Bakugo's lips onto yours, because in the end he is just a horny teenager who has a bad problem of not letting you finish your sentences.

"I told you!! I know my bro the best!" The kiss was quickly separated by both parties as Kirishima's voice pipes up, his volume never failing to surprise.

"Wh-What are you guys here for?!" Your stomach twisted with embarrassment, having been caught in the act of kissing Bakugo by your entire group of friends that stood at the end of the hallway.

"They saw the hickey and scratch marks you two left on each other and wanted to see if you both really were the ones who placed their mark on each other.." Sero mumbled out an explanation that you could barely pick up over Mina and Denki's own conversation about how much they loss betting that another person was "with" their friend.

"Well now they know.." After listening to the entertaining complains from Denki and Mina you spoke at a soft level only the boy beside you could hear, a fond smile placed gently upon your face. You don't think that letting other people in on the relation ship would be the worst thing.

"Maybe I should leave more hickeys on you, then.." A sly tone slipping out a mischievous smile.

"Katsuki!!"

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #secret relationship #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia oneshots #mha oneshots #bnha oneshots #boku no hero academia oneshots

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Hurting their best friend/crush w/ Oikawa and Terushima

Request: Oikawa and Terushima the playboy squad y’know, hurting their female best friend and manager with whom they have been in love with for the longest time but are too afraid to make a move. It ends in fluff of course but like maybe their friends are like you messed up man and its a really big fight. thank you. - anonymous

Playboy squad indeed. I feel like all three of them but mostly Oikawa got their hearts obliterated and that’s why they have adopted that fuckboy persona. These boys just need some real love even though one of them is a rat. Love ya.💖💖💖

rules

masterlist

warnings: angst to fluff, some cursing

Oikawa Tooru

-It had been a hard week.

-Actually a hard year.

-Oikawa was focused almost solely on volleyball, over doing it many times while you were studying like a maniac.

-Being their manager helped you loosen up.

-Plus it gave you the chance to be with your friend group.

-You had noticed how Oikawa seemed to brush off many of your attempts to hang out, sometimes giving you an excuse to why he couldn’t make while other times ditching you.

-He hadn’t ditched you many times but it still hurt.

-Knowing that your best friend forgot almost completely of your existence.

-You had drifted apart the last few months and the only one who noticed apart from you was Iwaizumi.

-He had seen how he wouldn’t find Oikawa beside you when he came to your lunch table or how you weren’t Oikawa’s first call anymore after a game.

-It bothered him too.

-Seeing his two best friends separate like that.

-And Iwa knew you tried to prevent it, he gave you advice on the matter as well.

-But Oikawa seemed oblivious to the gap that was forming and kept on ignoring you, more and more as time went on.

-The final straw came when he wouldn’t answer your calls one Saturday evening.

-It was one of those rare occasions when he had agreed to spend some one on one time with you and you were really excited.

-You hadn’t seen your best friend for weeks, apart from some small conversations during practice.

-You had been waiting for an hour, the movie you had picked already had started and was now in the second act.

-If this had happened a few months ago you would have let it slide, made a comment in your group chat and leave it at that but not this time.

-He had ditched you one too many times and you were sick of it.

-Making your way to the gym, you were taken aback by the lack of sound coming from inside.

-You expected to be met with the sound of balls slamming on the opposite wall but nothing, the slamming was replaced by female giggles and a really familiar voice.

-Opening the door slightly you found your best friend being pinned to the court’s floor by one of his fans, her giggles bouncing off the walls as she kissed him.

-Without a word you left, letting the door slam shut behind you as you walked out of school grounds and straight home.

-It hurt like hell and you weren’t able to get that image of him pinned to the floor out of your head for the rest of the weekend.

-He had texted you apologizing for missing your movie night, saying he was practicing late and he got carried away.

-You answered with a simple okay and didn’t speak to him after that.

-You kept your distance at school, simultaneously avoiding Iwa who knew that Oikawa had done something.

-Volleyball practice was your neutral ground, the only place where you chatted with everyone but still gave him small curt answers.

-Iwa had had enough of all this so he cornered Oikawa after practice as they were walking home alone, without your normal bubbly presence with them.

“What the hell did you do to Y/N, Shittykawa?”

“What do you mean? I’m completely innocent.”

“She has been avoiding you like the plague all week and you haven’t even noticed? What the hell happened last Saturday?”

“I didn’t see her...”

“You missed it? Again?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Yui-chan found me at the gym and she kinda jumped on me.”

“You know what’s funny Oikawa? The fact that you claim you love her.”

-That’s why he’s now trying to coax you to open your bedroom door.

- “I’m studying Oikawa leave me alone.”

-His last name leaving your lips hurt, a lot.

-He had always been Tooru to you or even Shittykawa.

- “Y/N please, I’m sorry for Saturday I’ll make it up to you!”

-You opened that door then, rage burning in your eyes as you met Oikawa’s pleading face.

- “Now you care? You have some fucking nerve coming here and giving me some half-assed apology after you ditched me for some chick last Saturday. I don’t need your apologies as much as you don’t need me. So do me the favor and get out of my house.”

-Tooru just stared at you, your words twisting the dagger in his heart.

-He messed up, he messed up big time.

- “You saw me with Yui...”

-You were fighting back tears as you looked at him, the sight of your underclassman hovering over him flashing behind your eyelids as you closed your eyes.

- “Y/N she means nothing I swear, it was nothing, she came at me I-”

- “Why w-would I care what she meant? W-why would I-I care with w-who you make out with?”

- “I care what you think of me!”

-You were full on crying at this point, Tooru shedding his own tears as his fears started clawing their way up his throat.

-He was losing you.

- “I care what you think of me because I love you. I care what image I create in your pretty mind because I hope that maybe at some point you will look at me in a different light. What I did last Saturday was fucked up and there are no excuses but I’m sorry, I truly am. Please Y/N. I can’t- I can’t lose you. Please....”

-You wanted to hold onto your anger longer, wanted to truly stay mad at him for more because at the end of the day he deserved it but you couldn’t.

-You launched yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your sobs became louder.

-He held you there until your tears ran dry, his arms tight around you as if he was afraid you would slip through his fingers at any moment.

Terushima Yuuji

-You knew him from middle school.

-Before the piercings.

-Before the dyed hair.

-Before the douchebag attitude.

-And before the ocean of girls coming and going in his life.

-It affected your friendship but you managed to survive it.

-Some girls were just too crazy and possessive, harassing you to leave him alone and that he was theirs.

-Terushima always gave them a glare and a cold “we’re done” before proceeding to hang out with you non stop for a week straight.

-It was your bro code that no matter what, a relationship would not change who you were to each other.

-That no one would get in between your friendship.

-Lucky for you, your love for Yuuji pushed away any potential boyfriends that came waltzing into your life.

-You are attractive, smart and cute plus you’re funny so many boys tried to go out with you, but you being in love with your best friend prevented you from reciprocating their feelings.

-Yuuji however changed girlfriends every two days and you were there to witness everything.

-He came barging in your room every Tuesday and Friday to talk about the new girl that threw herself at him or about the hook up he had during the weekend.

-It hurt you seeing him with others but his short relationships gave you hope that he hadn’t fallen in love yet and that you still had a chance.

-Then she came.

-She was a year younger than the two of you and she was the only one that lasted for longer than a week.

-She knew you two were close and whenever you tagged along with them she was seething with anger.

-She became territorial to the point that Yuuji should tell her to calm down.

-But he wouldn’t and that let to multiple fights and in the end you two stopped talking to each other.

-The last straw was during one of his games.

-You are the manager so you are down at the court with them.

-Terushima hit the ground really hard after he tried to save the ball and he hurt his shoulder.

-He was escorted to the bench where you put some ice on his slightly swollen shoulder and wiped away some sweat from his forehead.

-He may have acted like a douche to you but he was still your best friend and you loved him so you couldn’t be cold to him for too long.

-His girl lost her shit.

-After the game she started yelling at you and calling you a ‘home-wrecker’ and ‘man-stealer’ along with some really offensive stuff.

-You were putting her in her place when Yuuji came out and saw the whole scene.

-She immediately ran to him spewing nonsense and lies about how you came at her for no reason.

-The face of pure shock and disbelief on your face was enough for Terushima to understand that she was lying.

-All those other times his ‘girl’ said or acted like a bitch to you came crashing down he was hit by a train of realization.

-He suddenly was aware of your fight and the possibility of losing you, so he finally acted.

- “I don’t know what happened but don’t talk about Y/N like that.”

-She looked so offended for a second before snapping....literally.

- “You defend her over me? Your girlfriend? She is nothing but a sad little girl who wants to steal you away from me! And you’re encouraging her! She’ll start believing she has a chance with you!!!”

-He just let out a growl and pushed past her wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you into a hug.

- “Maybe she does.”

-The both of you left the gym and went to blow off some steam at the water fountains.

-After your exchanged apologies you started to mess around throwing playful jabs.

- “Did you mean it? What you said to her.”

- “You mean about us? If you want it to be true than yeah if you don’t then just ignore it.”

-You leaped into his arms squeezing the life out of him as your voice came out in a muffled jumble of words “I want it to be true.”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez-mangetsu @bemorefiction

#oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa toru imagine #terushima x reader #terushima angst #terushima scenario #terushima x y/n #terushima x you #oikawa angst #fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#Haikyu!!#haikyu x you

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uwurakax · 4 years

Text

i wanna make her mine ♡

pairing: iwaizumi x f!reader (oikawa x f!reader) ♡

genre: angst // unrequited love // iwa’s in love with his best friends girl yay // love triangle(ish?) ♡

summary: he knew it was wrong, but iwaizumi hajime couldn’t help the fact that he was in love with his best friends girl ♡

word count: 1.9k ♡

author’s note: it’s not super angst, just a little bit (i wasn’t in the angst feels but i like it - a little lolol oops). someone needs to take youtube away from me from listening to these songs ✌️😭 as always its not proofread, so any mistakes yIKES ty for coming (also crappy writing due to writing this at 5am no sleep as always) 🌚 ♡

♡ (inspired by jessie’s girl by rick springfield) ♡

Iwaizumi Hajime is a good friend. Despite his intimidating stature and the frown lines that decorate his brow, he really was a kind and considerate guy; in his own way of course. Did he yell and raise his voice? Did he get violent with a certain pretty best friend of his? Of course, it’s just how Iwaizumi was. However ask his teammates and fellow peers and they’d tell you how loyal he is, how he always looked out for his friends. How he always put them first.

No one believed this more than said pretty boy best friend, Oikawa Tōru. Although the setter, and captain of their volleyball team, always complained about his ‘brutish friend’, he couldn’t deny that he did appreciate his childhood friends support and constant worry. As mean and as violent as Iwaizumi could get with him, Oikawa knew that deep down he was caring and looking out for him in his own manner.

“Hey, make sure you don’t stay up all night”

“If you catch a cold, I’m going to punch you”

Yes, those around him would say that Iwaizumi Hajime is a great guy and a good best friend, even if he was a ‘bit of a brute’. Though if you were to ask Iwaizumi himself, he’d wholeheartedly disagree with you. Why would he? Well, the answer is very simple.

Iwaizumi Hajime is in love with his best friends girlfriend.

It went against every moral compass implemented by humans. Against every bro-code created by men decades before him. He knew it was wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He knew he’d never do that to you, and he’d most definitely never do that to Oikawa; but Iwaizumi couldn’t help how he felt in the slightest. If he could, he’d tear up every emotion of affection he had towards you.

But unfortunately for Iwaizumi, he couldn’t.

This wasn’t some vampire TV show. He couldn’t turn off his emotions or humanity, no matter how much he wanted to; and by God did Iwaizumi want to. So badly. It was sick and twisted, the feelings he had for you.

L/N, Y/N. A fellow third year student at Aoba Johsai High School, Class 5. It was like fate had it out for him. He had the unfortunate pleasure of not just being in the same class as you, but seated in the desk right next to yours as well.

Life truly was cruel.

In this entire school, in the entire prefecture, the entirety of Japan, hell even of all freaking Earth, it just had to be you. Why, oh why did it have to be you?

Why did you have to fall in love with his best friend? And why did he have to fall in love with you?

It wasn’t like Iwaizumi didn’t want Oikawa to be happy. On the contrary, Iwaizumi never wanted Oikawa to be upset. He rarely saw the pretty setter truly smile, always opting to charm his way with a toothy grin, no matter who was on the receiving end. Iwaizumi knew, and could easily see through his deceptive smirk. He noticed, however, that he never used that smile around you.

Iwaizumi only ever saw Oikawa’s real smile around you. He could see that his best friend never needed to fake anything around you. Everything about you just radiated goodness, honestly and truth. It was probably why Oikawa never wanted to pretend with you.

And it only ever made it harder for Iwaizumi to hide his feelings from you.

He’d watch the way you’d come into practice, immediately greeting everyone, and then eagerly run towards your boyfriend.

“Tōru, have you been over exerting yourself again?”

It wasn’t anything new, especially not to Iwaizumi. Oikawa always had a tendency to push his body over its limits. It was why the ace usually got violent with the setter; he’d never listen otherwise. He knew the drill, it was like clockwork. Oikawa would swear up and down that he didn’t, despite the grimace he tried to hide. He was such a natural actor, anybody else would be fooled by his performance. Not you though, he could never fool you, and Oikawa could never fool Iwaizumi. You both saw through him easily, but you knew how he’d be, and there was only one way to get him to listen.

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi wasn’t particularly fond of the nickname Oikawa had given him when they were children. He daresay he didn’t really care for it at all, Oikawa seemed a bit too old to still be using such a cute and childish nickname. Oikawa was stubborn though, and through the years, he just got used to it. No, Iwaizumi wasn’t keen on the nickname, but when it fell from your lips he suddenly didn’t mind it at all.

He’d look over at you and see you pout, almost demanding to know if Oikawa was overdoing it. Iwaizumi had gotten so used to it, your words barely registered anymore. It was one of the off chances where you looked at Iwaizumi and he could look at you, and not feel guilty about it. As much as he hated the damage Oikawa would do to his own body, he couldn’t help but think it was a small blessing in disguise from the universe. For Iwaizumi didn’t need to listen to you so intently like he did the first few times. Nowadays, he could just enjoy just looking at you without it being ‘weird’ or ‘creepy’.

The way you pouted, crossed your arms, scrunched up your face and spilled words of concern over his best friend, your boyfriend. You were so cute, so beautiful. He couldn’t help but wish that he was the one you’d worry over instead.

These little interactions, however brief, were enough for Iwaizumi. He knew they wouldn’t last forever, knew you were only here while you guys were still in high school. Knew that once you all graduated, he’d never see you daily. Iwaizumi couldn’t decide on whether that was a good or bad thing, but while you both had these exchanges, he’d savour every moment.

And so Iwaizumi would say what he always did. Complain back that ‘Shittykawa’ wouldn’t listen to him, that he was so stubborn, that you’d need to talk sense into him, because he’d never listen to anyone else like he did you. Honestly who could blame Oikawa? Iwaizumi is sure that if you asked him to travel to the ends of the earth, he would do it in a heartbeat.

After practice is over, Iwaizumi grabs his water bottle, quickly chugging down the much needed liquid. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice you make your way towards him. Not until you’re right in front of him. Your presence startles him, and you’re just so close. His hands start to sweat, heart accelerating and he can feel the blood rush quickly to his face. His heartbeat rings loudly in his ears, and he’s surprised he can even hear you over the deafening drumming.

“Hey Iwa, are you alright? Your face is all red”

Iwaizumi curses mentally to himself when he feels the back of your hand press to his forehead. Your skin felt so smooth and cool against his. He knows he’ll never be able to feel it again, and his heart sinks at the thought. You’ll never know it, and he’ll never tell, but Iwaizumi makes a mental note of this moment, wanting to ingrain it in his body and soul forever.

This will be one of Iwaizumi Hajime’s most cherished memories.

Iwaizumi gently takes your wrist and reluctantly pushes it away from his face. He inhales deeply, his body already missing your comforting touch.

“You feel hot, could be a fever?”

He lightly chuckles, trying to release the tension pent up in his body.

“No, it’s obviously just from practice. Of course I’m all hot and red, that’s what exercise does to you, dumbass”

With surprising softness, he flicks your forehead. It’s not enough to hurt, not in the slightest; but it’s enough to have you embarrassed.

“Y-yeah yeah, whatever. Iwa-chan”

Iwaizumi notices your nervousness and he swears to himself. It was disgusting, you’re his best friends girlfriend; but he just can’t help the thoughts of wishing he was the one that got to see that face more often.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I gotta go help clean up, so I’ll see you later”

Oikawa was good at playing pretend, he had years of practice. No one knew that his best friend was a great pretender too.

It finally reaches the time where Iwaizumi can go home, and of course to his luck, he had to walk with Oikawa and you. You know how awkward it is to be the third wheel, and Iwaizumi is thankful of how considerate you are. It’s too bad his best friend wasn’t the same way.

He’ll watch you and Oikawa hold hands, smile and steal occasional quick pecks while you think he isn’t looking. Of course he see’s it though, he can’t help but look at you. At one point during your nightly stroll, you’ll shiver from the cold, and Iwaizumi so desperately wishes he could hold you, wrap his arms around you for warmth, but he knows he can’t.

So he just watches as Oikawa takes out his volleyball jacket and drapes it over you. You look good in white and teal, Iwaizumi thinks to himself. He hates how cute you look in it, and he feels his heart crack a little when you snuggle into it, sniffing the collar and inhaling Oikawa’s scent.

He tunes out the conversations you two are having, silently praying that you three can part ways at the next street. The sweet love confessions pouring out of both you and Oikawa taking a toll on Iwaizumi’s fragile heart.

You all finally make it to the crossroads where you part, the trio now to soon be a duo and a solo. Two’s company and three’s a crowd. It had never felt more truer than when he was with the two of you.

He’ll smile, make a joke about how he finally gets to go, being free of the nauseating presence of two lovers. You’ll roll your eyes and Oikawa will just refute with ‘Iwa-chan, you’re just jealous’. Oikawa has no idea how right he is.

So he goes, leaving behind the two of you at the corner. Iwaizumi takes a few steps and looks back, thinking he’d see your retreating form, but he doesn’t. He see’s you and Oikawa, still rooted in the corner, looking at each other with such love and admiration. Oikawa then leans down and kisses you deeply. You throw your arms around his neck, deepening it even further. Iwaizumi is no longer there, there’s no more prying eyes. The two of you didn’t need to pretend. You could freely express your love, no longer having to steal chaste kisses so your friend wouldn’t feel out of place.

Iwaizumi looks on and smiles sadly, before turning back around and making his way home. Oikawa Tōru was a natural actor, but so was Iwaizumi Hajime. Iwaizumi could fool everyone into thinking he was a good friend. No one would ever know he was secretly in love with his best friends girlfriend.

And no one would know how absolutely shattered his heart was every time he’d see the both of you together.

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu!! angst #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x y/n

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multi-fandom-imagine · 4 years

Text

I Think I Love You || Daniel Le Domas ||

A/n: Adam Brody has no right to look so hot in this movie.

Part two will be all about the game.

Flashback Italicized

/Thought will look like this/

Warnings: Smut/implied smut, swearing, death mention, blood.

||Part 1||

|| Part 2|| - Coming soon

Song Inspiration: I Think I Love You- Tenacious D.

Summary: You are the granddaughter to Harlan Thrombey, daughter to Richard and Linda Drysdale, twin to Hugh Ransom Drysdale. You are your grandfathers favorite and once you found out about your fathers cheating you’ve decided to become Y/n Thrombey which Harlan was happy to see. Wanting nothing to do with your toxic family you’ve decided to move and do something with your life.

Becoming a doctor was a nice touch, but finding your best friend through collage was even better and it only took one night to meet your soulmate.Though it seem’s that that Daniel Le Domas has to deal with his own toxic family.

You never thought that you would be fighting for your life at your best friend’s wedding.

Just wait until you get home.

Drumming your finds on the bars counter top, you gave another glance at your phone checking the time. You weren’t surprised Grace was late, she did have a boyfriend after all so you couldn’t blame the girl for wanting to spend some time with the man. Sighing you took another sip of your drink debating on if you should call her or not though it was a gruff voice calling out your name that stopped you.

“You Y/n?”

Blinking you turned in the bar seat to see a tall man staring at you, the firs thing you noticed was that he was frowning. The second thing you noticed was how handsome he was. He had dark brown hair, god you want to run your fingers through it and some beautiful chocolate brown eyes and that beard...god you wondered what that would feel like on your skin though the man must have called your name again, you cleared out your throat forcing a smile on your face.

“Uh...ya that’s me...can I help you.”

Wrinkling his nose, Daniel tore his gaze away from you. Grace never mentioned how attractive you were though then again it’s not like she got the chance with the woman practically begging him to go and see you.

“Daniel...please...she’s my best friend! can you just go check on her...maybe stay with her for a while.”

Nursing a beer, Daniel didn’t even bother to hide the scowl that was on his face. “Now why would I do that.”

“I was supposed to meet with her but Alex wanted to take me out...he kept on insisting on taking me out...he said it was important.”

That made him nearly drop his beer, god he hoped that the idiot wasn’t going to ask her for marry him. He wanted to say no say, he wanted to tell her to just blow his brother off and to just go see her friend but that’s not what he did, how could he when she’s been so nice to him.

“Fine....stop looking at me like that...where is this friend of yours?”

Shaking those thoughts away, Daniel sighed as he sat in the empty seat next to you. “Grace sent me...Alex want to take her out....though before you get a sad it has nothing to do with you...I’m pretty sure he’s going to propose.”

“And who are you?” Taking a sip of your drink, you wanted to know who this handsome stranger was and how he knew your best friend.

“Daniel...Alex’s older brother.”

Snorting you turned to face the man fully. “Right...well...I suppose it’s nice to meet you Daniel.” Wrinkling your nose, you gave him a pleasant smile holding your hand out for him to take. “I’m Y/n....well you already know that but I thought I should at least say it.”

A small chuckle escaped Daniels lips, something he was surprised about. You were more refreshing than he ex wife was and as the night grew on he came to find that you were much more kind, he found himself wanting to spend more time with you.

“Daniel?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like...to walk me home?”

“I’d love too.”

Daniel did not think much of walking you home, he was to distracted by your soft lips against his neck. The honey words whispering in his ear of the things you wanted him to do once you two got back to his apartment. Though what Daniel Le Domas did not know was that this one night was going to change his life.

Because it wasn’t going to be just one night. This one night would turn into to two, two would be come a week and a week would turn into six months and somewhere along those six month’s Daniel had fallen in love with you and thanks to his brother, he would be getting a sister in law then that meant you would be meeting his family.

The one thing he never wanted.

“I can’t believe she said yes.” You muttered resting your head against your boyfriends chest. His fingers was slowly running down your back, though they lingered in your hair.

Daniel let out a snort, closing his eyes falling into the after glow of the sex. It always felt magical when he slept with you. Completely different from the passionless sex he would have with his ex. “I take it from her news your not happy?”

“I...just don’t trust him...I’lm sorry Daniel.”

Closing his eyes, he couldn’t blame you. His family wasn’t very trust worth, not with all the shit they did. “You don’t have to apologize y/n...my family is pretty shit.”

Shaking your head you adjusted your body so you were not sitting on his lap as his hands grasped your hips.

“Well that makes two of us....everyone in my family is shit but my Grandfather.”

Leaning down you gave him a kiss, Daniel deepening sliding his tongue across your lower lip though soon you found yourself on your back with him hovering over you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Capturing your lips in for another kiss he slowly slid into.

You were perfect...and you were his.

He was talking in his sleep again but this time it looked like he was having a nightmare.

“No...no...please...not her.”

“Daniel.” Frowning, you watched the man twitch in his sleep. Face twisting in pain as he shifted in his sleep.

“Daniel.” Moving closer to him, you placed your hand against his cheek as the other grasped his hand. “Wake up..you’re having a nightmare....just open your eyes for me.”

Jolting awake Daniel had to stop himself from screaming out No, tears were streaming down his cheek as he frantically looked around the room. “Y/n.”

“Shh...I’m right here.”

Holding Daniel close, you hated feeling the man sob against your chest. His tears hitting your naked skin. “I’m not going anywhere...I promise.”

Soothing Daniel, you pressed a kiss to his head as he finally settled down with him falling into a deep sleep. His body spooning against you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

You prayed he didn’t remember that nightmare.

Pulling up to your grandfathers, Daniel swallowed thickly.This home was giving his family’s home a run for its money. Leaning forward you gave Daniel a soft kiss.

“You don’t need to come with me Daniel...I think my asshole brother is here anyways.”

Shaking his head, Daniel gave your hand a soft kiss. “No...I want to join you..meet your grandfather...he mean’s a lot to you.”

Beaming at the man you slipped out of the car pausing for a moment feeling another wave on nausea hit you. “Hey? you okay?”

Daniel frowned as he stepped behind you, his hand rubbing your lower back. “Still sick? maybe we should skip the wedding?”

“What! no! Grace is my best friend...I’m also the maid of honor...” Sighing he closed his eyes. He hoped, even if it was a small part that you would have agreed. He was scared of losing you,you were his best friend, the woman he loved. He still had flashes of his nightmare, one’s of you drawing the dreaded card.

Of his family sacrificing you, with him being restrained watching them plunge a knife in your heart. He could barley even register you talking, no you weren’t talking you were screaming at someone. A man that looked similar to you...was this the twin brother you mentioned?

“Fuck off Hugh.” Your hand protectively grasped Daniels.

Hearing your voice, Daniel narrowed his eyes as he stepped in front of you doing his best to shield you from your brother.

“You were always attracted to trash y/n though I never thought you’d be the one to fuck a former alcoholic...then again I’m sure knowing who his family is you’d open your legs for anything”

Stepping close to Ransom, it took a lot for Daniel not to deck the man across his smug face. “I don’t care what you say about me...but say one more disgusting comment about y/n and I swear I will knock you on your smug ass.”

Ransom blinked in surprise, he was not expecting that comment though the moment did not last long as he gave Daniel a smug smile. “Hm...I do not know if I like you or not.”

Walking towards his own car, Ransom gave you one last glance before he slipped into his own car driving off.

“What a prick..”

Blinking for a moment you let out a laugh as you reached out to grab his hand. “Hm...I can’t help but agree with you on that but thank you Daniel...for standing up for me.” Giving his cheek a kiss, you then tugged him into your grandfathers home eager for him to meet your grandfather.

“And who did you say you were again?”

Daniel shifted his body as he glanced away from Harlan Thrombey , your grandfather.

“Uh...I am Daniel Le Domas.”God he wished you were by his side, to reassure him but you were to busy talking to Marta.

Harlan’s eyes flashed in surprise for a moment, next was anger but then they went back to his neutral expression. “Ah..yes I’ve heard of your family.” Leaning forward Harlan cleared out his throat. A slow smile forming on his face though it was one that Daniel would call friendly. “You do well to take care of my granddaughter...she’s a good woman...I’d rather not see her die...from a broken heart.

/Die from a broken heart...could he know?...no that would be ridiculous/

Taking a breath in, Daniel shook his head. “I’d never do anything to hurt her...I love her.”

Nodding his head in satisfaction, Harlan cleared out his throat. “Good...now would you be a good lass and grab her for me.”

Letting out his breath, Daniel quickly turned away from your grandfather as he hurried out of the room.

“Y/n...your father wanted to see you.” Glancing at the young nurse he gave her a light smile pressing a kiss to your head. “See you in the car?”

“Of course” Giving him a quick kiss, you then turned your attention to Marta. “Talk to you later?”

“Of course...have fun at the wedding y/n.”Holding back a groan you watched Daniel leave.

“Oh...I’ll try.’

Slipping into your grandfathers study, you wondered what he had to say.

Clapping your hand’s, you gave a happy but teary eyed smile to Grace. You were happy for your friend but you tried to ignore what your grandfather had told you but the news you received from your doctor. /Pregnant...I can’t believe I am pregnant./

“It was a beautiful wedding..”

“It was.” Reaching out, Daniel grasped your hand to reassure himself. Praying that you and Grace would not draw that card.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you gave him a teasing grin. “Wanna have a quickie in one of your many rooms.”You did your best to ignore the look’s his family gave you...the one’s his ex wife gave you.

Once you noticed Alex and Grace were gone you grabbed Daniel’s hand pulling him up from his seat then down the isle, that was until a man, Daniels father stopped him in his path.

“Daniel...aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend.”

Narrowing his eyes, Daniel gave his father a glare. “She’s not my friend...she’s my girlfriend.”

Looking him over, you bit your tongue holding back a comment. “ I’m Y/n...Y/n Thrombey.”

Tony Le Domas’s eyes went wide for a moment though it vanished once a thin smile formed on his face. “A Thrombey....you don’t say...well enjoy the party Miss Thrombey.”

“I think I will...” Brushing past the man, Daniel let his arm weave around your waist as you two walked away from his father.

Stepping into the mansion you stopped a door in the far off corner. Smiling, you quickened your pace. Giving a quick look around you were pleased to see know one was around, once you saw that the cost was clear you tugged him into a empty room smashing your slips on his own.

“Fuck me.”

“Oh you don’t need to tell me twice.”

A game....who the fuck plays a game at a wedding reception. Leaning on your palm you tried not to show the bored look on your face as each member of the family drew a card. Once it was your turn you rolled your eyes seeing what you got.

/Hide N Seek....what are we five?/

Then one by one everyone showed what that had, you were surprised to hear the card Grace got.

“Hide N Seek?”

But before Grace could say anymore you frowned holding your own card up. “Um I think we need to shuffle the deck...because I got Hide N Seek too.”

Daniel’s ex seemed please but Daniel. The man could feel his stomach drop, his heart squeezing tightly in his chest as your words rang through his ears.

/I got hide an seek too/

#daniel le domas #daniel le domas x reader #knifes out #ready or not #knives out / ready or not #thrombey reader #dabble #drabbles #mini series

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janeyseymour · 3 years

Text

Dangerous Desires- pt 7

chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 6.

Kat gets into some trouble and school, and Jane has to take care of the aftermath.

Katherine Howard liked to blend in with the walls at school. Considering she had already been through 14 schools since beginning kindergarten at age five and she was only sixteen, it was just easier that way- it’s not like she made any friends she would keep in touch with anyway.

But after the last house, and switching into a school that was known for being rather snobbish, to say the teen had anxiety about going to this school was an understatement.

It had been a few weeks since she started living with Jane, and so far she had just blended in for the first week in this school. That’s how she liked it. Well, until this day. It started the second she walked into the homeroom. She had been in this area before, but that was when everyone was younger and kids were a fair degree nicer. Now, they were cold and cruel and didn’t care.

“Kat Howard’s back,” she heard one of the students in the hallway tell his friend.

“Not for long. You know how that girl bounces around. Such a shame, she’s a pretty little thing,” the friend, presumably a jock and flirt, snorted.

“Of course that’s what you’re thinking about,” the first boy smacked the other upside the head. “She is hot though. But are you willing to shack up with someone who isn’t a virgin?”

“I mean,” the second male shrugged. “She’s hot. And besides, we don’t know if that rumor’s true or not.”

“Of course it’s true man. You’ve seen her. Plays the whole innocence card until she doesn’t and then she dips and leaves for another school. There’s no way she hasn’t lost it.”

(It wasn’t true. Katherine was indeed a virgin, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t escaped the terrible and ruthless rumors from the last school she was at.)

Looks of disgust and judgement were thrown her way throughout the day, but she only continued to do her best to be invisible.

And it was working- until lunchtime came around.

The girl was sitting by herself at lunch as she had done so for the past week, when she was so rudely interrupted by a girl slamming her hand down on the table hard enough to make Katherine practically jump out of her seat.

“You’re Kat Howard, right?” A preppy girl leaned down so that she was eye-level with the skittish teen.

“Uhm,” Kat worried her lip through her teeth.

“You are, aren’t you? Or do you not know?” the snobby girl laughed in distaste. Kat nodded mutely.

“Well, listen here.” She jabbed Katherine in the chest with her perfectly manicured finger. “Stay away from my man, or you’ll have it coming for you.”

“I-” Kat stuttered. “I don’t even know who you are?”

“How could you not know who I am? Oh, is it because all you’ve done for the past however many years is bounce around from foster home to foster home?”

“I-I’m sorry,” was all the girl could muster out.

“Yeah, you better be fucking sorry. My boyfriend was talking about you earlier, and I swear to God if I ever hear your name come out of his mouth again-”

“Hey, Kaylie, what’s going on over here?” A teacher interrupted.

“Nothing Mr! Just greeting the new student!” The girl, who she now knew was named Kaylie, smiled sweetly at the teacher who had come to intervene. The teacher seemed satisfied with this answer and began to back away.

With the teacher gone, the preppy teen had gotten far too close to Katherine for comfort.

“If I ever see you around my boyfriend again,” she sneered. “I will fuck you up more than any other foster home has before. That’s a promise.”

Kaylie stood upright, smoothed out her skirt, and plastered on a sinister smile. “Have a good day now, and welcome to the school!” she exclaimed loudly before skipping away.

Katherine, on the other hand, was frozen in her spot. She knew how cruel high school students could be, but she never thought they would stoop so low. And what Kaylie had threatened, well it terrified her honestly. The house that she was in before Jane- it royally fucked her over and left her more terrified than she had thought possible.

Feelings of anxiety and panic were overwhelming the young girl, and it was clear to her that she was about to spiral more than she would ever like to, much less in a public area of the school. Her brain told her to get up and run to the bathroom- the nurse’s office- the front office- anywhere. But her feet stuck to the ground below her as though she was being weighed down by concrete.

The next thing she knew, people, who she could only assume in her haze were teachers, were picking her up from her spot at the table. She came back around just enough to feel their hands on her body- hands touching her in places that teachers really shouldn’t have been. Hands that reminded her of-

She heard screaming. A piercing scream that was louder than she had ever heard before. And then she realized the high pitched shrieks were coming from her. She didn’t know she even had it in her anymore to fight like this. She thought it had been beaten out of her a long time ago. With this newfound voice of hers, she began to try to fight her way out of it, thrashing about like a wild animal trying to escape its predator.

“Let her go!” a new, more gentle voice called out from the distance. “It’s clear that this girl is having a panic attack, and I’m sure a bunch of hands on her is the last thing she needs right now! Let her go, and back away from her!” The last sentence echoed through the cafeteria, and the hands slowly let her go.

“Katherine, yes?” the gentle voice spoke from a distance. “It’s Nurse Mack. I need you to give me any sort of signal that you can hear me, okay?” Katherine didn't respond in fear. “Katherine, dear?”

When the teen didn't respond again, she heard one of the teachers who had their hands on her curse, “Jesus Christ Courtney! She’s just being insubordinate!”

“I need all of you to leave,” she stated finitely. When she was met with varying degrees of objection, her voice turned smooth with honey, but the words she spoke were threatening. “Out, or I will report you to the principal and the police for having your hands all over this young girl’s body. Surely, you don’t want that? Yes?”

In her haze, Katherine could tell that this woman truly was trying to help her. It wasn’t some sort of sick and twisted joke to lure her into a false sense of security. When the others had left, she tried to take a deep breath in attempts to ground herself. It would come out shaky, but it was better than feeling as though she was suffocating.

“That’s it honey, yeah. Can you try to take another deep breath for me?” The nurse continued to coach her through her panic. Eventually, she had calmed down enough for the nurse to be able to speak to her effectively.

“Alright love, do you think we could take a walk down to my office? You can lie down there until you’re feeling a bit better,” Ms. Mack offered. Katherine nodded and stood on wobbly legs.

When the two entered the office, the girl wasn’t quite sure what to do, so she stood in the door frame for a few moments.

“Would you like to lie down?” Katherine shook her head no. “Okay dear. How about you just sit with me for a few moments. I just have a couple phone calls to make.” The nurse pulled up a chair next to hers and gestured to it kindly before dialing a number on the phone.

“Hi, is this Jane Seymour? ...Yes, it’s Courtney... I’m well, thank you. I do have Katherine down in my office and I have a feeling the school will be calling you if they haven’t- oh, wonderful.” The teen couldn't miss the sarcasm dripping in the nurse’s voice. “She had a panic attack, and I haven’t been able to talk to Henry yet, but I do suspect he’s going to try to get her into some trouble as he does with the foster kids... I know, it’s horrible. I’ll do my best to stand up for Katherine, but I am afraid I’m on thin ice with him as of lately... coddling the children, or at least that’s what he’s calling it... yes. I’ll see you soon, thanks. Bye.”

“You called my foster placement?” Katherine looked up curiously once the nurse had hung up the phone. “I did. Not to get you into trouble or anything. Jane and I have had correspondence in the past, and I find it’s usually best if I chat with her first. Not because she’ll be mad or anything, no she would never be. It’s for reasons above you- she and the principal have a not-so-great past, and if she has background knowledge of what's-” the phone ringing interrupted Miss Mack. She stole a glance at the caller ID before groaning.

“Hi, yes, this is Miss Mack, and- well yes, I do have Katherine... she wasn’t being insubordinate, she was having a panic attack and should not be repri-... for what I’m not sure, but it’s clear she was not okay and... yes Dr. Tudor. I’ll bring her when she’s feeling better... she’s still not very responsive and I do think that... okay, okay. I’ll bring her down. Thank you, bye.” The nurse placed the phone back on its dock, not even trying to hide her annoyance with the principal.

“This damned school couldn’t give half a shit about anyone here but their grades,” she

muttered under breath.

She turned to face the poor girl next to her with a solemn look. “Unfortunately, I have to

take you down to the front office. I’ll do my best to defend you, but the worst thing that should happen is you’ll be given detention.” Katherine nodded slowly before allowing herself to be led to the office.

“Katherine Howard, only been here for a few weeks and already causing trouble,” the principal addressed her not-so-kindly. “Should’ve listened to the other principals in the surrounding schools I suppose. I’ve already called your foster mother and she’s on her way to-”

“No!” was the first thing that had come out of the girl’s mouth since the whole incident had occurred. “She had a really important meeting today and-”

“It’s already been handled. She’s on her way now to pick you up and see you through. For your insubordination, you’re being suspended for the rest of the week.”

Many thoughts swirled around Katherine’s mind. Would Jane be mad? Would she hit her? Would she throw her out of the house? Or maybe, considering how kind Jane had been so far, would she get a talking to and that be that?

“Sir, if I may,” Miss Mack interrupted. “I have to try to explain again that she was not being insubordinate on purpose. She was having a panic attack, and when I got to the cafeteria, some of the other male teachers had their hands on her and-”

“Are you instigating that the other teachers were the cause of this, Miss Mack?”

“No sir,” she stated. “What I’m saying is she was clearly already in the midst of her panic when these men came towards her and only continued to make the situation worse for her. If you would please-”

“I’d advise you to stop talking now Courtney. You’re already on thin ice, and another strike against you and you could be-”

“Dr. Tudor? Ms. Seymour is here now. Should I bring her in or?” the receptionist stated quietly, eyes veering anywhere but towards the principal.

“Bring her in.” The receptionist stepped aside for the blonde to march herself. Somehow, the woman looked just as wonderful as she had when she walked out the door that morning, albeit a bit frazzled.

“Hi love,” Jane’s warm eyes met fearful ones, but one glance at her and the teen couldn’t help but feel that maybe it would be okay after all. There was no malice behind the blue-grey eyes- there never was when she was looking at the girl. “We’ll sort this out, and then I’ll take you home, yes?” She turned to the principal.

“Henry,” she practically spat out, any trace of warmth now gone. “What is it?”

“Oh Jane, it’s always a pleasure,” a sinister smirk appeared on the principal’s face. “Is that really how you should act with your foster daughter in the room? You shouldn’t be mad at me- maybe your foster-”

“I doubt Kat did anything worth me leaving my meeting, and it's just your horrid management skills. Now,” she turned towards the nurse who had refused to leave the room. “Miss Mack, can you tell me what happened?”

The nurse began to explain what had happened before the principal interrupted, “This is my school Jane Seymour, and if I say she’s to be suspended, that’s what will happen. Miss Mack, go back to your office and mind your own damn business, or it would really be a shame for you to-” he was about to threaten firing her when the nurse simply held up a calm and steady hand.

“Yes sir.” With that, she turned to leave, but not before mouthing to the blonde, ‘I can’t afford to lose this job.’ Jane gave her a sympathetic smile and nod.

“She’s suspended for the next week, and I don’t want to hear anymore about Katherine refusing to listen to the directions of her teachers again, or she will face expulsion. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sure Henry,” the woman scoffed, not so much as giving him a second glance and instead running a gentle hand over her foster daughter’s- hoping and praying that she could signal that it didn’t matter what Henry had said; she was going to be just fine.

“Katherine?” The principal looked at her expectantly.

“Yes sir,” Katherine agreed lowly, head hung in shame.

The two had made it back to the house in silence. The teen wasn’t quite sure what to make of Jane. She had expected to be yelled at within the first ten seconds of getting into the car, but it never came. She was expecting glares to be shot at her whenever the older woman could get a chance. She was even expecting to possibly be struck by what was usually such a soft hand. But it never came. Silence had washed over them, but it wasn’t a terrible silence. Daggers never shot from the blonde’s eyes; every once in a while, Katherine would lift her head slightly to take a look at the woman next to her only to be met with the same blue-grey eyes filled with more love and compassion than she could ever imagine. A hint of concern was mixed in there, but the teen chose to see the warmth mostly. The soft hand that had found its way over Katherine’s in the office never once left; the warm and kind hand had held on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it-, all in attempts to convey silently that everything would be alright.

Jane only let go of her sweet girl’s hand when she made moves to get out of the car, but Katherine stayed still.

“Honey, are you ready to go inside?” The older woman asked when she noticed the teen had yet to even unbuckle her seatbelt. The look of uncertainty in the girl’s eyes was confused and wary- almost as if... almost as if she was expecting Jane to yell at her and beat her once they were behind closed doors. “We don’t have to of course. If you’re comfortable out here, we can stay out here.” The blonde settled herself back into the car, prepared to sit with her girl for as long as she needed. She gently stretched her hand back out over Katherine’s.

The two sat in silence for quite some time. There was no, “Enough of this Katherine. You’re being silly. Let’s go inside.” No, Jane Seymour was the most patient woman you would meet, and she was more than happy to sit in silence in her car for the time that Katherine needed.

They had been sitting in the car for just over two hours when the silence was broken with Katherine’s body betraying her and let out a small hiccup. Jane, who had recently begun to doze off in the car, groaned softly and allowed her eyes to glance over to the teen without the teen noticing. She was crying, and it appeared she had been crying since the blonde allowed herself to close her eyes. It was as if this sweet and innocent girl had learned how to cry silently- much practice was clear. The way her body shook so softly that if Jane hadn’t been paying attention, she may have never noticed it- even with her hand still holding Kat’s. The way there was no heavy breathing or choked out sobs like Jane tended to- just silent tears streaming steadily down the girl’s face as regularly as water flows through the stream.

“Kat? Love, what’s wrong?” Jane repositioned herself so she could get a better look at the girl in the passenger seat.

“Oh,” the teen jumped a bit in her seat as she wiped furiously at her tears. “You’re awake! I'm fine. We can go in now.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to push you, but it’s clear you’re not okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wa-”

“I’m so sorry,” Katherine practically threw herself at the woman. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over, openly weeping now.

Jane, who had opened up her arms and was now awkwardly leaning over the armrest to embrace the girl, just gently shushed her and murmured soft and sweet nothings to the girl until she had calmed down a bit.

“How about we go inside, prepare dinner, and then we can talk? It might be a tad more comfortable than the car?” the blonde suggested lightly. Katherine nodded solemnly, but hesitantly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but-”

“No,” Kat stated firmly. “We can. I’m being silly.”

“I’m sure you have good reason as to why you wanted to stay in the car so long, dear,” Jane affirmed. “But, if you’re ready, let’s get going. I was thinking of making your favorite casserole tonight?” The shy blush and smile that appeared on Katherine’s face made Jane’s heart melt.

The two had sat down after preparing dinner together, Kat’s chair much closer to Jane than she had ever dared to be before.

“So love, we do have to talk about what happened today,” Jane spoke softly after she swallowed her mouthful. Kat nodded slowly. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

The teen launched into her story, every so often looking at the woman before her to see if there were any signs of annoyance or agitation. There never was.

“I’m just- I’m really sorry you had to miss your meeting. I know it was a big meeting with your boss for your promotion, and I’m sure I got you into trouble, and I-”

“Well, I won’t lie to you: my boss wasn’t very happy about me leaving so suddenly, but he knows that any foster child that is in my house comes before a blasted job. And love, your mental wellbeing is more important to me than any sort of promotion I could or could not get,” Jane told her softly.

“That’s what you say now,” Kat muttered under her breath, but the blonde picked up on it.

“I want you to hear me out on this Kat. I know you’ve heard it in the past, but I truly mean it. You matter more to me than anything else in my life. All of the kids who have been through my house hold a very special place in my heart, and you are no different,” she spoke in a gentle but firm tone.

‘You are different though. You’re so much different than any other child,’ Jane added in her head.

“But it was such a stupid reason to get pulled from work. You’re not even like, slightly mad?”

“It’s not a stupid reason at all, sweetheart. You can't help the panic that stormed its way through your body,” Jane sighed before admitting the next part, “And, I understand because sometimes I get them too.”

“You do?” Kat looked astonished. No foster parent that she had ever lived with before had ever admitted to being anything less than... Well, no foster parent had ever admitted to her that they also struggled sometimes. She knew they did, but no one had ever blatantly admitted it before. Jane nodded silently, a sign that it would be something they would speak about later.

“I do. So I understand the feeling. And I know that you would never do anything purposefully to get me out of that meeting.”

“So, you’re not upset? Not mad? Not going to yell and scream at me? Not hit me?” Kat asked so casually that it truly made Jane’s mouth fall wide open in shock.

“Of course not honey.” Jane’s eyes went wide. “Is that- is that why you didn’t want to get out of the car?”

“Everything’s hidden behind closed doors,” Kat sighed, eyes dulled and slightly glazed over. “It’s happened before.”

“I will never, ever lay a finger on you that isn't full of love and care. It won’t ever happen. And I rarely raise my voice. It happens, yes- I’ll admit to that. But it’s few and far between, and even if I get frustrated with you: I will never strike you. Not now, not ever. That’s a promise, my sweet girl.” The blonde understood these fears. She hadn’t lived Katherine’s life, but anger and violence was seemingly all she knew. Jane knew she had already promised herself to show Katherine a different light before, but she promised herself again in that moment.

“O-Okay,” the teen’s eyes came back to life. “I’m not in trouble or anything? You don’t like... want to take away my phone or something?”

“No dear. You’re not in any trouble at all. You didn’t do anything wrong, and that principal is just an idiot,” the woman scoffed. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that... bullshit.”

A present day Jane was lovingly stroking her soon-to-be daughter’s hair listening to her tell the tale when she felt a laugh being suppressed against her night shirt.

“What’s so funny young lady?” Jane sounded mock-annoyed, making sure to make it evident she was joking.

“It’s just... that was the first time I had ever heard you curse. It was pretty funny,” Kat continued to giggle softly.

“Well, I suppose it can be quite funny when those who don’t have mouths like a sailor curse,” Jane mused. “So love, what was the point of that story?”

“You didn’t give up on me that day either. Most would’ve dropped me right back off at the social services office claiming they couldn’t handle such a trouble maker. But you, you didn’t,” although she knew Jane never would, there was a hint of confusion laced in her soft voice.

“Well of course not. I would never dream of it,” Jane stated clearly.

“You were the first foster parent I lived with who heard me out.”

“Every child deserves to have their voice heard, especially in situations like that.”

“You were the first ever foster parent to admit to me that you weren’t perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, love.”

“Well, I know that. But, everyone just likes to pretend that they’re perfect, and then they show that they aren’t. You... you admit that you aren’t perfect, and yet you still are the closest thing to perfect that I’ve ever seen,” Kat smiled up at her soon-to-be mother, moving impossibly closer into her hold.

Jane sighed, pressing yet another gentle kiss to the teen’s hairline. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but you and I both know I’m not perfect. Far from it. By you my dear, you are a gift to me and this world. Imperfections and all, I would never dare to lose you.”

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six musical #six the musical #six fanfiction #six fanfic #jane seymour six #six jane seymour #kat howard #katherine howard six #six katherine howard

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

The House Party - ep.03 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Things start to heat up as the week reaches its midway point and you make a decision that changes everything.

A/N: Mild smut at the very end of the chapter.

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

///

You weren’t sure how many times you would have to brush your teeth to get the taste of last night out of your mouth but the three times you already had clearly weren’t enough. It wasn’t alcohol, in fact you’d woken up more sober than you expected to be, almost leaning off the edge of your bed, tucked into your blanket, with JJ laying on top of the bedding beside you. It was all very ‘one motel bed’ trope-ish but you’d both been so exhausted last night that you couldn’t even enjoy the implications of it. An ice cube tray of melted aloe vera sat on the night stand and you brought it down with you to the kitchen to refreeze when you decided coffee might help the taste that wouldn’t leave your mouth. 

To put it the only way you knew how, a way JJ would have definitely put it, you tasted kook trash every time you swallowed and it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, at least not while Rafe was two houses down from you. 

“Morning,” Pope voice half startled you as you entered the kitchen to find him sitting at the island eating cereal. 

“How is it possible that you look so normal?” You asked, grabbing a bowl for some cereal yourself. Breakfast was a good distraction from your phone and the taste in your mouth. 

“You mean as opposed to John B and Sarah who decided to parent trap it on a floatie in the pool?” He asked, turning for emphasis to look outside where your best friend and her boyfriend were indeed asleep on a floatie in the pool. 

“Exactly.” 

“I’m not a big drinker.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

“Am I a big drinker?” You asked. 

“No, how did you end the night?” 

You nodded your head slowly, realising what he was getting at with his question. “JJ was sick, I figured it was better to come back here than make him stay at the party.” 

“Sure.” He agreed though it sounded empty, “did you hook up?” 

“What?” 

“Look, I know how JJ parties, he’s my best friend. And I know what his ‘senior week plans’ were before Sarah hijacked them to come down here. I wouldn’t put it past him to alter them. You know, have sex with as many girls as he can in the keys. Host included.”

“We didn’t have sex.” You replied. 

He stared at you for a full minute, not saying anything, as if the look on his face alone would crack you into admitting some misdeed. And it probably would have if any had occurred. 

“We didn’t have sex, I swear to god.” You reiterated. “It is what I said it is. JJ was throwing up in the bathroom and I brought him back here so he could rest. That’s all that happened.” 

“With JJ.” Pope scoffed. 

“Whoa, where’s the displaced animosity coming from...pretty sure you’re in my house.” 

“Yeah and JJ is my best friend. I don’t want you stringing him along for the week cause you’re bored and you wanna make your ex jealous or something.” Pope replied.

“You literally just got done telling me that JJ wanted to sleep his way around s’week but I’m the bad guy in your head because of some proposed plan I have to ‘make my ex jealous’?” You questioned. “That’s un-fucking-believable.”

“It would be if I hadn’t seen you in the hallway with your ex right before you left with JJ.” 

“You’re delusional. My ex who? Just cause I was talking to some guy-“

“You weren’t talking and it was Rafe.” 

You shut your mouth, lips pressed together in a line as you tried to think of something to say. Sure, it was common knowledge amongst your friend group that you and Rafe had been hooking up for the better part of two years but that was over and you really didn’t think it was the kind of thing that pogues talked about. And you trusted Sarah not to have blabbed about it to anyone else. 

“How’d you know-“ 

“How’d I know you and Rafe were a thing? Sarah’s not the only one here that knows you. I’ve seen him at your house before when I delivered groceries, not so hard to put two and two together.” 

“Well me and Rafe are over.” 

“You didn’t look over.” Pope challenged. 

“Oh well, thank you for interpreting two fucking minutes of my life and deciding how I feel about something.” You snapped, “I didn’t want him to kiss me okay, I told him to leave me alone. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that the word no isn’t exactly a part of his vocab.”

Before Pope could say anything back the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught your attention. Both of you looked toward the staircase in time to see JJ appear, shirtless with just a pair of swim shorts on. His shoulders and chest were red but not as burnt as his back, which you caught a glimpse of as he trudged passed you, not in the high spirits he had been yesterday morning. 

“Dude, your back looks painful.” Pope commented, staring at the expanse of angry red skin that looked more ready to blister than anything. 

“It feels painful too.” JJ grumbled. So far he was 0-3 with vacation. He was stuck in this kook house (which really wasn’t so bad but he enjoyed bitching about it), he was sunburnt to hell, and he’d wasted an entire night of partying throwing up from sun-poisoning (though that worked out in his favour too because he definitely enjoyed the part where he sat on your bed and you rubbed aloe ice cubes on his back and basically took care of him). 

“Guess the beach is out of the question?” Pope asked, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. 

“I can go to the beach.” 

“You definitely can’t.” You replied, coming around to look at JJ’s back. He was sitting on one of the stools, slumped over. “You shouldn’t get anymore direct sun on your back.” 

“Oh cool, I’m so glad I came all the way down to fucking Florida to sit in a house all day and do shit.” 

“Sorry man,” Pope said, though he made no offer to stay at the house. Yesterday had been great and he was looking forward to going to the beach again today with Kiara. John B and Sarah had mentioned tagging along but he knew they’d eventually go off to do their own thing. 

“We could go to the boardwalk?” You offered, ignoring the look that Pope sent your way. You knew he was just being a good friend, looking out for someone he cared about, and it made you wish that Sarah knew enough to do the same for you. 

“What will we do on the boardwalk?” JJ asked, curious enough that he wasn’t immediately rejecting the idea. 

“There’s a water park there and an arcade, plus you know, tons of food.” You shrugged, “I know you wanna go to the beach-“

“I can be persuaded.”

“I think you already have been.” Pope commented. 

The three of you turned your attention to the stairs as Kiara came down, already dressed for the beach. When she saw the three of you in various states of sleepwear she rolled her eyes, “hey Kie be ready early so we can all go to the beach together.” 

“Technically, Sarah said that and she’s passed out in the pool still.” Pope replied, pointing out the glass doors to where the floatie was still carrying John B and Sarah on the water. 

“Let’s wake ‘em up then.” JJ slipped passed you, winking, before he ran outside, jumping into the pool and landing directly on top of John B and Sarah. 

You, Pope, and Kiara rushed to the doors in time to see the floatie flip over, all three teens going under as Sarah shrieked and John B tried to grab any part of the inflatable raft. Sarah surfaced immediately after JJ, throwing her body on him and wrapping her arms around his neck as she tried to push him under. 

“You asshole!” She screamed when JJ ducked under the water, twisting in her arms and grabbing her waist so that he could throw her off him. 

You watched them for a minute longer, as John B finally got involved, before heading back into the house and going upstairs to change. You’d left your phone plugged in the bathroom outlet while you were sitting with JJ and you picked it up now to check your messages. Two from Rafe and one, unsurprisingly, from Topper. It’d been him at the end of the hall that called Rafe away from you. 

-You okay?- was all the text said and you quickly responded. 

-Nothing happened. Thx-

You deleted the messages from Rafe without looking at them. You could hear everyone come in the kitchen, footsteps on the stairs as John B, Sarah, and JJ came up to change. You pulled on a crop top and some shorts, pocketing your phone before hurrying downstairs. 

Kiara and Pope were back to hanging around the island, talking to each other about their plans as you entered. 

“Hey, do you guys wanna meet up later on the boardwalk?” Kiara asked, “we could do dinner or something?”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied, grabbing your backpack from the chair and making sure that you had everything you needed. “There’s a pizza place near the South street entrance that has incredible food, plus it’s super cheap.” 

“I do love cheap food.” 

You had locked your shorts and your backpack in the rented locker of the water park along with JJ’s backpack before the two of you headed for any of the rides. Both your phones locked away in your backpack, cutting you both off from the rest of the world for however long JJ felt like staying at the water park. 

“So? Where to first?” You asked as JJ stopped in front of a mounted map of the park. It wasn’t as big as Dorney or Six Flags but it was pretty expansive for being an extension of the boardwalk. 

“Shush, I’m consulting the map.” 

“Consult the bones,” you said and JJ laughed, casting you a glance before going back to the map. 

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand suddenly, having zeroed in on a ride titled the constrictor, 450 feet of enclosed water slide and the two of you were going down it. 

He weaved his way through the crowd of people, leading you closer and closer to the line for the slide. Most people were at the beach on the weekdays which meant a shorter wait line, something JJ was happy about. It was bad enough he was spending his day at some dumb water park with you, he didn’t want to have to wait in line too. Although, he hadn’t let your hand go yet. 

“Should I mention before or after we ascend these stairs that I have a mild fear of heights?” You asked, taking the raft that was offered to you by the water park employee. 

“It’s fine,” JJ assured you, “here go ahead of me.” 

“How does this help?” You asked as you stepped in front of him onto the first stair. 

JJ shifted his raft under his arm, pressing it against his body and holding onto the railing while he used his other hand to hold you, fingers brushing the skin above your bikini bottoms as he held your waist. “See.”

You bit your lip and took a deep breath, “yeah I see.” 

The rest of the way up the stairs JJ kept his hand on either your waist or your back. He wasn’t too thrilled with heights either though focusing on the peach bikinis bottoms you wore, little pineapples polkadotting them. He could imagine you totally smacking him in the face of you knew but he’d take his chances. 

As sly as he might’ve thought he was being you knew he was looking. When you turned around at the first platform before the stairs twisted you caught him looking down, eyes darting up quickly when he realized you were looking at him. You didn’t say anything, just turned back around so he wouldn’t see the satisfied smile on your face.

“You ready for this?” JJ asked as you stepped onto the final platform, JJ stepping up behind you.

“I’ll see you at the bottom Maybank.” You replied, stepping over to your slide while JJ got set up at his.

You liked waterparks for the lazy rivers and the wave pools and those crazy contraptions for kids that looked like towering pipes and dumped water on you. Even the log flume was fun. But giant enclosed slides that shot you through winding loops for endless feet until finally dumping you in a pool? Not your favorite. But as you looked over at JJ, who flashed you a thumbs up, you were having trouble thinking about the things you didn’t like.

The slide was over before you knew it and you were climbing out of the pool, JJ standing on the side waiting for you. “How did you beat me?”

“I’m like speed racer,” he said, making a wooshing sound as he glided one hand under the other like a wave.

“Well, speedracer, what next?” You asked, taking off your soaked shirt and wringing it out as you followed JJ back to the map. “Are we consulting the map again?”

“What you think I memorized it?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at you and grabbing your hand when a woman with a stroller tried to squeeze between the two of you.

By the time you and JJ met up with Kiara and Pope and made it back to the house Sarah was already setting up for a party. John B had obviously been enlisted to help as he was trying to adhere light stripes at the top of the wall in the living room.

“What’d you do rob a liqour store?” You asked, grabbing the leg of the ladder he was on when he leaned to far to the left.

“Feels like it.” John B replied, “Sarah filled a cart. We’re either having a party or she’s turning into everyone’s alcoholic grandmother.”

“We’re having a party!” Sarah called, coming in from the pool area, “it’s exactly what we need.”

“Why do we need to host a party?” Kiara asked, looking back at JJ and Pope but they just shrugged, obviously not willing to get involved.

“Because morale is low here people.” Sarah replied, “and it’s senior week, duh.”

“Duh.” You repeated, raising your eyebrows and grinning at JJ who laughed. Sarah watched the interaction skeptically, as far as she knew John B’s best friend had complained of nothing but a bad time. Now he was joking with you like the two of you were friends.

“Can I talk to you,” she grabbed your arm to pull you out of the room, “Pope hold the ladder!”

“Oh cool the bathroom.” You muttered as she dragged you into the hall powder room, shutting the door behind her and trapping the two of you in the crammed space. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s going on with you and JJ?”

“Didn’t we do this literally yesterday?” You questioned, “I said then and I'll say now, JJ and I are barely friends.”

“Except when I texted Kie earlier cause I couldn’t get a hold of you she said you and JJ were on the boardwalk together.”

“Oh, oh my god Sarah, you’re right, something is clearly ‘going on’ because I went on the boardwalk with someone instead of just ignoring the people living in my house.” You rolled your eyes at her accusation that something was going on though you sincerely hoped something was.

When she finally released you from the bathroom the two of you resumed getting ready before you changed into something more appropriate for the party. NC parties were slow going in the early hours until they finally picked up, mostly just crowds of people crammed in an empty rental or spread out on the beach. House parties in the Keys happened a little more erratically. People showed up while it was still light out, hanging around the pool drinking and shit talking until it got dark and they all migrated inside, drunk off their asses and louder than necessary.

You had moved the table and chairs in the dining room and pushed all the furniture back in the living room for good reason because the minute the sun went down it felt like everyone was spilling back into the house for part 2. You were in the kitchen, ignoring most everyone there, watching JJ set up a shot for Kiara.

“Is it lime and then salt or salt and then lime?” He asked, glancing at you.

You were leaned against the counter beside him and Kiara was on the other side with Pope, who already said twice he wanted no part in this. “Lime first, how else does the salt stick right? I don’t remember...I know how to do a body shot.”

“Are you offering?” The grin on JJ’s face as he asked had you practically melting in your spot.

“Guys!” Kiara leaned across the island, snapping her fingers, “can we please just do the shot!”

“Right, sorry.” You apologized, grabbing the bottle of tequila to pour for them.

While the three of you were talking Pope spun in his chair, observing the louder parts of the party that was raging on the first floor. There were a few people lingering in the kitchen with you, mostly to be closest to the alcohol, but otherwise everyone was contained to the living room, dining room, and pool. When he looked out the glass doors to the pool area he frowned, “hey guys, look who showed up.”

You looked out the door to see Topper on the patio chatting with some local. “I’ll be right back.”

“Can we just enjoy the party?” Pope called though you were already slipping out the door.

“Top,” you called not caring that you were interrupting him, “can I talk to you?”

He apologized to the girl before placing his hand on your back and leading you further away from the party, stopping once the two of you had stepped onto the sand path down to the beach. “Look, someone texted Rafe about the party alright.”

“Well I don’t want you guys here.” You replied, “you weren’t invited by me and it’s my house.”

“Hey come on, you know me alright, I’m not trying to start anything-”

“Doesn’t sound like the Topper I know.”

“That wasn’t me alright, Sarah made me a little crazy, I'll admit. But I’m over that.” Topper replied. “I don’t understand why you and Rafe broke up and suddenly you can’t hang with any of us.”

“Are you still friends with Rafe?”

“That’s not fair, we’ve been-”

“I don’t care. You know what happened. You want me to be friends with you Top? After what you and Kelce did. Look, thanks for last night but I don’t need your guilty conscience looking out for me. I need you to get your boys and get the fuck out my house.”

“Putting on the tough act for Topper?” Rafe’s voice came from behind you and you closed your eyes, jaw tensing at the sound.

“It’s fine man, we’re just talking.” Topper replied, stepping closer to you.

You opened your eyes and turned around to see Rafe and Kelce standing there, “actually I will tell you the same thing I told Top, get the fuck off my property.”

“Damn,” Rafe whistled, “you start hanging with the pogues and suddenly you think you’re tough shit.”

“Hey man, let’s just forget it.” Topper said, getting between you and Rafe.

Rafe put his hand on Topper’s shoulder, guiding him out of the way, “you go ahead, I need to talk to my girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” You replied, “I said we were done and I meant it.”

Pope had been watching you talk to Topper from the kitchen door and when he saw Rafe and Kelce join the two of you on the catwalk he’d broken up JJ and Kiara’s shot game to tell them something was going down and you were out there alone.

“Maybe she’s just talking to them.” Kiara shrugged, “I mean, she is a kook. Her and Rafe used to date too so...”

“She dated Rafe?” JJ asked, eyes wide at the implication.

“Oh yeah, she broke it off a couple times but they always got back together. Sarah told me she thinks they might get back together again.”

Pope frowned, thinking of the way you had looked this morning when he accused you of doing just that, “I don’t think so. We should make sure she’s okay.”

“I’ll get John B.” Kiara replied, making her way to the living room to find John B and Sarah.

JJ and Pope meanwhile, headed outside, coming up behind Kelce just as you told Rafe that you were never getting back together with him. You saw the two of them passed Kelce’s shoulder and your best at a subtle shake of the head, a silent ‘please go back inside’. But Topper saw them too and alerted Rafe to their presence.

“Kelce wasn’t lying Maybank, you really have turned into a guard dog haven’t you.” Rafe said, turning his full attention on JJ. Topper pulled you to the other side of the path and pushed you behind him as Kiara, Sarah, and John B walked up.

“Fuck off Rafe, you aren’t welcome here.” Kiara cut in before JJ could reply.

“I didn’t know you owned the place.” Kelce challenged.

“I already fucking told you to go!” You said, “so go!”

Rafe only smiled, looking at JJ still, “what pair you guys make man. A bitch and her dog.”

Without warning JJ lunged forward, shoving Rafe back and swinging, trying to punch him. When Kelce tried to grab him John B intervened, getting Kelce in a choke hold. It took a second for all six of the boys to become involved in the fight as Kiara urged Sarah to call the cops. Rafe punched JJ, sending him back into the sand and getting on top of him, hitting him repeatedly while Topper held off Pope and John B and Kelce fought with each other.

“Stop it,” Kiara grabbed at Topper, trying to pull him off Pope and Sarah just stood there frozen.

You went for Rafe, trying to push him off JJ. When you grabbed his arm he pulled away only to throw his elbow back, colliding with your stomach and sending you to the ground. It was all the momentum that JJ seemed to need to shove Rafe off him and get the upper hand, kicking him in the stomach a couple times.

“Get the fuck out!” He shouted, spitting on your ex-boyfriend.

Topper let go of Pope and grabbed Rafe’s arm, helping him up and pulling him away, Kelce breaking away from John B and following them back to theirs, away from the party. The six of you stood there in silence, trying to process what had just happened.

“Some party.” Pope finally said and Kiara glared at him.

“Didn’t I say this week would be shit.” JJ said, looking over at you before turning and heading out toward the beach.

“Let’s just go back inside.” Sarah pleaded.

“Why were they even here?” Pope asked, casting a glance your way.

“Topper said someone texted Rafe about the party.” You said, “could have been anyone...he’s been down here with me before, he knows some of my Keys friends.”

“Whatever,” Kiara cut in, “we have three days left and I would love if we could just, not see them again for 72 hours. Is that possible?”

“I hope so.”

“I had a feeling you’d still be out here.” You said, walking up behind JJ on the beach. The light from the houses behind you did little to illuminate the night. The waves were lapping up the sand at JJ’s feet and he made no sign that he even knew you were there. You dropped the blanket you had around your shoulders and sat down, not bothering to straighten out the corners. “I know you’re pissed-“

“I’m not pissed.” He said, digging his heels in further. “I just...you and Rafe, seriously?” 

“It was different, at the beginning.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

“Maybe but...I was 14 when we first started dating and I really thought he liked me. But, he just liked that I was insecure and he tries to remind me of that every time he sees me.” You explained. “Rafe being down here doesn’t change what happened at the water park, I didn’t just kiss you because of him.” 

It’d happened during the lazy river ride that you had forced JJ to go on. He had spent most of the ride pushing your innertube with his foot and trying to tip you until it finally happened and you went over, sputtering to the surface and trying to grab at your inflatable tube as passersby tried to avoid the two of you. You’d pushed his innertube over in retaliation and he’d abandoned it to grab you and try to dunk you underwater.

Serendipitous maybe, as you twisted in his arms, turning to face him, he’d leaned down and kissed you.

“He keeps showing up.”

“I didn’t invite him.” 

JJ looked back at you before rubbing the heel of his hand across his cheeks and sniffing to get rid of the literal waterworks he’d been two seconds away from. This wasn’t the vacation he had signed up for. And maybe there had been some good parts so far but the complicated bits were starting to outweigh everything else. Still, he shifted back so he could sit on the blanket with you; a step in the right direction you hoped. 

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, looking over at the backpack you’d carried all the way out here with you. 

“I didn’t think you would want to go back to the party so I brought the party with me.” You replied, unzipping the main compartment to reveal the alcohol you had swiped from the house. “I don’t know if you wanna party with me-“

“Shut up and pass me a beer.” 

You smiled, grabbing a beer from the bag and handing it to JJ. Without warning he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him, leaning back on his other elbow as he did. You caught yourself, pressing your hand into the blanket to hold yourself up and realizing you were hovering over him. 

“I, uh-“ you stammered, licking your lips briefly before JJ let go of your wrist and put his hand on the back of your neck, leading you into a kiss. You kissed back, ignoring the feeling of the beer bottle cap scratching your hand as you shifted to be closer to JJ, moving your knee between his legs so you were almost straddling him. 

“Are you sure?” You asked when you pulled away to move your hand from the beer bottle. You frowned when you glanced at it, holding it up so JJ could see the cut. He took your wrist, kissing over the small cut on your palm. “I’m not really good at casual things,” you admitted.

“Is that what this is?”

You shook your head before leaning in to kiss him again. While you held yourself up with the hand that had been cut by the beer bottle your other hand moved to JJ’s stomach, fingers slipping beneath his shirt and dancing along the soft skin of his abdomen, just above his shorts. His grip on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly as he held your face to his, pulling out of the kiss for the briefest of moments to look at you, “Are you sure?” He repeated your question though it had a different meaning.

“Yeah.” You nodded. It was dead on the beach this time of night and you were far enough down toward the water that no one could really see you from the houses though that didn’t stop this from being the most daring thing you’d ever done.

JJ shifted so that he was laying back on the blanket, pushing the backpack away from his body as you straddled his waist. His hands went to your hips, running over your ass and settling on the backs of your thighs when you leaned all the way forward to kiss him, bodies practically pressed together. You kissed along his jaw and down his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin. JJ’s breathing picked up as your right hand moved between your bodies, fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts before you slipped your hand beneath them, grasping him. JJ bit down on his lip as he moaned, the sound coming up from his chest.

You pulled away from him, cool air rushing between your bodies as you sat back on your heels. He watched you, heart pounding in his chest, as you put your hands on the waistband of his shorts, ready to pull them down, “God, why are you not in a swimsuit.”

“Excuse me for not knowing I was gonna get lucky on the beach.”

“I’m gonna leave you on the beach for saying that,” you teased.

JJ’s hands held you in a vice grip, squeezing your hips, “not a chance.” He replied. He ran his hands up your sides to the hem of your bralette, fingers nudging the fabric up and you caught on to what he wanted, obliging him by lifting the top up over your head and tossing it to the side.

Your original plan of action went to hell though you could be upset when JJ wrapped his arms around your back and sat himself up, knocking you back and laying you down so he could hover over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he kissed you.

“That was a neat trick.” You managed as he mirrored the hickey you’d left on him on your own neck. He smiled against your skin as his right hand moved across your stomach, fingers brushing against the underside of your breast. His mouth travelled down from your neck, kissing between your breasts before moving to the left, tongue darting out to flick over your nipple. His fingers twisted your other nipple at the same time and you tensed, hips shooting up to try and create some friction with his own. He sucks another bruise into your skin, just below your left breast before moving back up to kiss you.

The new position made it easier to get his shorts and briefs down and you manage to push them down to his thighs after you rid yourself of your own shorts. JJ leans his forehead against your collar, looking down at you with a sly smile. “No underwear?”

“I was in a hurry to get dressed.” You insisted, “now shut up.”

“I’m not the chatty one.”

“I’m not - holy shit!” You cursed as he slipped his hand between your thighs, coating his fingers before rubbing your clit. His middle finger circled the bundle of nerves before slipping down inside of you, just barely offering anything before repeating the cycle. When he kissed you he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you bit down gently, not enough to hurt him but enough to getting him going.

You tried to press yourself up into his hand but he pushed you down, slick fingers digging into your skin as he pressed you against the blanket. You whimpered when he pushed his hips into yours, his dick rubbing over your clit and you grip his hair as he tilts his head down to kiss and nip at your breasts again.

“Please, Jay,” you begged, unashamed and completely oblivious to your surroundings as he lined himself up and thrust in to you. He stilled for a moment once he was completely in, savoring the feeling of you until you tugged his hair. “Move.”

“God, you’re so desperate for me.” He teased, kissing beneath your chin and along your neck.

Finally he moves, thrusting into you. His pace quickens and you wrap your arms around him, digging your fingers into his back. He groans from the almost pain of the feeling, his hips hitting yours harder to give back as much as you’re giving him. You pulled him closer so that you could kiss him again. You’d be lying if you said that you had been on edge with JJ all day. That every touch and smile, the kiss in the lazy river, it all felt like foreplay as he thrust into you now, slipping his hand between your legs to rub your clit as he did, pushing you closer to the edge.

“JJ,” you whimpered, muscles in your stomach clenching as you felt yourself approaching your high.

JJ pressed his face into your neck, biting again at your collar, “I know,” was all he said, repeating it again when the rhythm he’d built up wavered slightly as he felt his own release approaching, “I know.”

One hand fisted the blanket beneath you as your release hit. You came, his name the only thing you could think of, and he came right after, the feeling of you tightening around him enough to pull an orgasm out of him. JJ held himself up on one arm, trembling above you, still connected as his hips still, his eyes on yours.

You sucked in a breath as he kissed the tender skin of your collar, red from his teeth, “have you ever gone skinny dipping?” You asked.

“Not in the Keys.” He replied, letting his upper body fall against you as well, all of him pressing into you.

“When I can move again...want to?”

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