#do i have a playlist tag? maybe i should start one. and then it will inspire me to post more playlists here
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no way the josh o conner sam reid playlist is a real thing i thought. whatt he hell
#went to look it up and there it was. playlist from 2016 with one! song added in 2023. simply titled: sam reid#as if that's a normal thing to do#wild to me in general to have a playlist named after a real person first and lastname.#like who does that. and who does that publicly.#everything else abt it can remain a mystery idc but those are the questions i have#then on second thought maybe i should start naming my playlists like that. then again there are only a few reasons to name a playlist after#a person that come to mind. and that's where i'm gonna stop these tags
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been really autistic about this playlist the past few days
#it's all the songs that give this sort of peaceful type of anxiety#i can't explain it. all songs that are kind of beautiful and calming but also sad or slightly eerie#it's not meant to be like ''creepy'' music or anything it's just. idk the vibe#type of music that at least for me feels like i'm being transported to another time. but it's a vague time and there isn't really a way out#i mean yeah like peaceful anxiety#i'm listening to it now and all the songs are kind of. nice to listen to. but also there is a sense of dread that i can currently feel#like physically#it also makes me feel like. how i imagine it would feel to see a mushroom cloud in the distance#and realise there's nothing you can do now so you just accept the reality#ughhhh i'm unwell about this playlist pls look at it if you're interested in this type of music lol#also a lot of the songs in it mean a lot to me like most of them are connected to specific Defining memories. i'm unwell ok stop talking#ramble#music#playlist#do i have a playlist tag? maybe i should start one. and then it will inspire me to post more playlists here#(i have 856 atm so maybe i should start posting more of them. for the archives)#also yeah some of the songs in it are actually kind of happy? or would be perceived as happy idk. but they still give me a Vibe#so they're in there
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EROTIC EMPATHY (s.jy)
Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Nope. Are you about to? Yep. or the one where jake has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising himself on a dating app and decide to help him out.
minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it
WORDCOUNT― 12.7k
PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader
CONTENT― virgin guy who lives with his parents!jake, he’s not shy but he is very clumsy, a lot of texting so be prepared for that, facetime-sex, real life sex
SIDE CHARACTERS― jay as reader’s best friend and roommate, heeseung briefly as jake’s friend.
NOTE― if you've read this before it's because im the person who wrote it [ncteez] and im revamping it for jake, pls don't send me messages on either account about stealing a work that's already mine!
smut tags under cut::
smut tags―big huge dick jake, phone sex (ish), face time sex, masturbation, pet name: baby, making out, he eats you out twice, fingering, whining and whimpering, deep throating, premature ejaculation, desperate man wants his dick wet lmao, grinding, tit fondling/licking, clit stimulation, he bites the fuck out of his tongue to try and distract himself from coming too soon again, no condom aka cream pie, jake gets feelings like immediately when u touch him
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Check this shit out,” you laugh, presenting your phone to Jay with a chuckle. “yes or no?”
Jay snorts, nearly spitting out the bite of food in his mouth as he reads the bio of the man you’re showing to him.
“Depends, you trying to take his innocence or are you trying to get railed so hard that the entire building can hear?” He narrows his eyes at you, making a point to call you out for keeping him awake last weekend.
You wave him off with an apologetic look. To be fair, the dude from before knew how to make a girl moan, it’s not your fault that you managed to find a decent lay in this city. Even if he ghosted you, you assume you may have been a bad lay for him, if anything.
“I wouldn’t mind trying something new, dude seems desperate.” You swipe through his photos, seeing that he appears to be just a normal dude with normal interests. “He’s cute too, so I’m gonna say yes.”
Jay groans this time, slapping a hand to his forehead and glaring at you.
“You’d better warn me if you end up bringing him home, I’m not about to listen to some guy start crying over a blowjob.”
You nod to him, sending a message to the eighty-two-year-old Jake and feeling delighted at his near-instant response to you.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’re out of the apartment if I invite him over,” You wiggle your brows as you stand to your feet and turn toward your room, eyes now glued to the open dating app’s messages. “Maybe you should go out and find a nice girl to rail to get back at me.”
“You’re so fucking weird.” Jay laughs but feels kind of shitty because it’s not like he hasn’t been trying to get back at you for the loud sex. Guess he just doesn’t have the magic dick to make girls moan the same way you do.
Not that he wants to make you moan or anything, he definitely doesn’t. If anything, he wishes you were more like the girls he brings home.
Fucking quiet.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You: i’ve never seen a virgin grandpa on this app before
Jake: ….i’m 21, it says that in my bio
You: I think you’re lying.
Jake: do u know how to change it, my bitch friends won't tell me lol
You: why would i help you lie to other women
Jake: i’m not lying!!1
You laugh to yourself as you text the new sex interest in your life, wondering if he’s lying about his presumed virginity.
You: ok, twenty-one-year-old “jaeyun” who is five miles away from me, you’re actually a virgin? Like for real?
Jake: yea….are u here to make fun of me for it too? all the girls here just turn me down even if i offer to cook for them after
Jake: maybe it's the playlists idk
You: send me the playlist
Jake: [spotify link to a playlist titled “NUT”]
You try not to snort, but you do. Given, he does have decent taste, but why anyone would have dynamite by bts and never say never by justin bieber on their sex playlist is beyond you.
You: surely it’s not your playlist…….
You: anyway
You: you’re really just looking to get laid for the first time, like, ever? and you’re offering to cook dinner too?
Jake: yea
You: you’ve never had a blowjob or anything like that? you can’t seriously think I can believe you’ve never been laid, it’s not like you’re ugly or anything
Jake: u don’t think im ugly? :)
Jake: and yea I’ve had a blowjob before
You: why didn’t you sleep with her then?
Jake: can we stop talking about why im a virgin
You: sure but you know im gonna bring it up again, right?
You’re smiling at your phone, finding him charming and awkward in how he communicates with you via messenger. Of course, you’re curious as to why he’s a virgin, even more, curious as to why he’s on a dating app looking to lose said virginity.
You: do you want my number? it’s embarrassing to have the app open in public if i wanna talk to you.
Jake, on the other hand, is quite literally kicking his feet and checking your profile every few minutes just to look at you. He didn’t even think too hard about you calling him attractive then not following up on it, because the fact that you just offered your number to him in case you want to talk to him? Butterflies. Given, it’s juvenile for someone of his age to still be experiencing the typical high-school crush feelings, would anyone blame him? It’s just how he is, with or without having had sex. He can’t imagine not feeling giddy inside when he’s talking to someone that he thinks is pretty.
Jake: yea :) u can text me whenever [redacted phone number]
You respond to him by texting his number rather than using the app messenger, screenshotting his contact info, and sending it to him with a sly smile.
You: [screen shot// contact name: grandpa jake]
Grandpa Jake: :|
Grandpa Jake: im 21
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Okay so, here’s the thing. Jake is undeniably funny, witty, and kind. Another thing, he’s wildly attractive. Especially upon fulfilling your request for a workout selfie from him. So, what gives? You read the texts he’s sent that made you laugh out loud, you look at his pictures, stare at the workout selfie, and you genuinely cannot understand how he doesn’t have women waiting in line to have at him.
You: it’s been like four days since we started talking
Grandpa Jake: yep, almost five
You: four days of being friends but no mention of your bio on the app, yknow, where you’re begging to have sex for the first time ever?
Grandpa Jake: right, yea. you wanna do it? i didn’t wanna assume lol
You: not answering that til you explain why. i mean, it’s totally ok that you are but like, you’re a green flag all around so im a little worried you might have like a micropenis or something
Disclaimer, if he had a micropenis, you’d still let him use it on you. After all, hooking up is something you enjoy doing regardless of size.
Grandpa Jake: i do NOT have a micropenis
You: prove it
Grandpa Jake: right now???
You laugh to yourself but also like, it’s the first time the two of you have done anything more than bully each other. Or rather, you bully him and he defends himself constantly.
You: answer my question first
It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but you’re doing coursework anyway so it’s not a huge deal. Totally not like your ears perk up and a smile creeps across your face every time your phone goes off or anything. Definitely not.
Grandpa Jake: um… i still live with my parents and before u make fun of me for that pls understand that its not like i wanna be here
Grandpa Jake: i have a job and everything!!! im not a mooch!
He’s getting off track again. You could honestly care less if he still lives with his parents. You wish you still lived with yours, to save money at least.
You: they won’t let you have anyone over?
Grandpa Jake: well, that too but
Grandpa Jake: listen this sounds real stupid but it just never happened? even when i tried or things almost happened, it never did
You: damn, you’re unlucky. so what happened with the girl who gave you a blowjob?
Grandpa Jake: her boyfriend walked in
You: WHAT
You’re trying to pity him, honestly, but damn. Did he go for a taken girl? Yikes. You hate to admit the ick that just flooded your mind.
Grandpa Jake: its not like i knew she had a boyfriend
You: phew
Grandpa Jake: so yea. do u wanna help me out or not?
The whole reason you started talking to him was specifically to help him out. Now that you know he’s not some weirdo, and is definitely super hot and funny, hell yes.
You: yeah, sure.
You: about the micropenis though,
Grandpa Jake: right…um
A few minutes of silence, your coursework is long forgotten in the anticipation of receiving your first dick pic from Jake. You wait, and you wait, and you wait.
You: i mean if you can’t prove it that's ok
Grandpa Jake: just give me a sec damn
He’s doing his best to get the most attractive angle. It’s not like he’s never sent nudes to anyone or anything, but like– this is you. The first person to actually agree to take his virginity. Should he hold it? Put a remote next to it for size? Should he have his face in the pic? Take a mirror pic?
Of course, as he’s taking several pictures of his length to try and impress you, he had to get hard first. He can’t imagine you’d want a flaccid cock pic in your inbox, and that would also mean that he’s working himself up with the amount of touching, holding, and groping throughout the past sixteen photos he’s taken and deleted. It’s at the point that now it’s actually hard to care about taking a photo, pre-cum already dripping out of him as he continues to try.
He’s entered the realm of his regular horny self, only this time he’s texting you. Someone who wants to see what he’s packing. Taking a dick pic is insanely easy once he stops thinking with his brain, and he’s quick to send you a photo of himself this time. His chin at the top of the picture, face entirely hidden, hand wrapped around his thick and leaking cock, sweatpants shoved down.
Grandpa Jake: [image attachment]
In all fairness, you’ve never actually cared much for dick pics. Men always look too confident even with the smallest of girth being offered through the pixels. Jake though. He looks a bit desperate even with his face hidden. His cock looks desperate, his fingers wrapped around it look desperate, the way his sweatpants hug against his thighs look desperate. And now, you feel desperate. You keep your cool though.
You: oh, you were jerking off, got it.
Grandpa Jake: sorry can’t help it
Then he doesn’t text you back. Which is kind of a drag because he looks to be quite big in the photo alone. Maybe you’d be okay just this once to look like the desperate one. Mostly because you’re about ten seconds from trying to figure out which direction five miles away he resides so you can go palm his cock for him. Plus, the idea of an absolute simp virgin like him seeing you act a little desperate would probably be one for the books.
You: you know i can help you out with that, right? especially since you definitely don’t have a micropenis
You’re still being ignored. The silence from your phone makes your belly flip around inside of you at the image of him doing it too. He probably does it a lot. He’s probably desperate to feel good and watches porn like 24/7. You can imagine how he’d act if you were in front of him right now, the very idea of taking his virginity becoming entirely too attractive.
Shrugging, knowing full well what he’s doing right now that’s causing him to ignore you, you press the call button and wait. You’re a little bit nervous, mostly because you’ve never actually heard his voice before, or better yet how he sounds when he’s getting off. You’re shocked that he actually answers.
“Hello?” He says, muffled through the phone and trying to sound not-so-out-of-breath. It’s not like he looked at who was calling him anyway. With his luck, it’s probably Heeseung or some shit.
“Don’t hello me,” You gripe, narrowing your eyes at yourself in your mirror. “You’re just gonna jerk off without me after I agreed to help you fix your little problem?”
The silence on his end is a bit nerve-wracking until you hear the frantic sound of his palm clearly wreaking havoc on him. You smirk, leaning back on your chair and sighing. On his end, processing that it’s you on the other line sends his entire body into a state of burning with arousal. Your voice is sweet even when you speak with the same sarcasm as you do via text.
God, this alone is enough for him right now.
“Were you at least thinking of me?”
He hums into the phone, indicating that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His voice is kind of soft despite only hearing one word and a hum, you want to actually hear him talk to you, or moan, whichever he decides.
“Were you looking at my pictures?”
He nods his head, forgetting that you’re not able to see him and instantly responds with a small and breathy yes instead. It’s a bit difficult for him to talk right now, especially now that he can put a voice to the photos he’s been jerking off to. It’s a bit overwhelming, actually.
“Do you want better ones?” You ask, encouraging him to speak a bit more.
“Oh god, really?” He asks through the speaker, his hand pausing on his length as if to hold off until you confirm. “Like, nudes?”
“Mhm, yeah. If you want.” You smile as you speak to him, already standing to shimmy your pajamas off of you and stand in front of the mirror. “Or, you know what would be better?”
“Letting me come over and actually do it?” That’s what he wants to say to you, but he doesn’t, he simply raises a brow and bites his lip, trying to contain his excitement.
“What?” He asks, still keeping his responses short because despite how into this he is, he’s a bit shy about it.
“I can facetime you.”
He panics. That means you’ll be watching him too, right? Sure he’s sent nudes, he’s received nudes. He’s sent videos too, and received them. But never has he like, you know, live masturbated on facetime so someone else can watch.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You backtrack at his silence, but you’re cut off almost immediately.
“No! no, we can facetime–”
Your stomach flips again as you fix yourself quickly in the mirror before setting your phone against your desk and rolling back a bit in your chair to determine if it’ll work this way or not. It’s not like he’s expecting you to do it too, he probably just thinks you’re gonna sit here naked for him to stare at. You’re kind of excited to see him in action, to hear him in action for you.
You hit the button to switch the call over to facetime and once again adjust your phone as you stare at yourself in the camera. Then you’re needing to catch your breath at the image of him.
Oh fuck.
There he is, his camera angled towards his face and not at all toward what's going on below his waist, but you don’t mind at first. Looking at him, the lighting clearly shows that he’s a fan of mood lighting. You watch his eyes briefly, staring through the screen at you before moving your eyes to his arm, the one that clearly isn’t holding his phone because you can see it moving as he continues to jerk himself off. It’s an interesting feeling to have only seen him in photos until this moment, and it’s insanely attractive for some reason. Seeing him in motion, knowing what he’s doing, knowing that he feels good right now because of you.
“Let me see,” you say quietly, adjusting your bra strap and preparing to slip it off of you if he so much as asks. “Prop your phone up somewhere like I did.”
He nods, his eyes still staring straight through his screen at you as he moves around and the image becomes a blur of movement rather than his face. He settles in quickly, somehow looking even more attractive with the way his eyes no longer stare at the screen. You can almost sense a hint of shyness from him at this moment and it kind of floors you, given how easy he is to talk to and how easily he sent a dick pic to you.
“Feeling shy?” You ask, spreading your legs wide and cupping the seat of your panties, hiding the small spot of wetness forming there. “You act like I’m not going to be touching you at some point soon.”
You see him perk up, his eyes looking to you on the screen with more fondness than arousal. At the same time, his hand grips the base of his cock as he holds it straight up, erect and glistening proudly for you to look at.
“You look pretty big, bet you could fill me up so nicely,” You try to compliment, boosting his confidence and ego as best you can simply because he looks pretty with a smile on his face. Especially when his cock twitches at the words. “Would you want to do that for me, Jake?”
“Oh god,” He groans, hearing his name come from your mouth for the first time. His hand jerks up his length once, almost aggressively as he winces at it. “This is going to be so embarrassing.” He admits now, sliding his palm up and down shamelessly as he watches between your spread legs.
In a way, he wonders if you can see how desperate he is. There’s no way you can’t, right? Like, you can see how badly he wants you, right?
“Embarrassing, why?” You chuckle, tapping now at the spot between your legs. “Can you not see that I’m just as turned on right now?”
He groans again with deep breaths, releasing his length and using that same hand to swipe his hair out of his face, then immediately grimacing at the fact that he now has pre-cum in his hair. Embarrassing, all of it.
“Well,” He tries to avoid you bringing up the fact that he just did that and only shoots his hand back to his cock in order to distract whatever off-hand shit you’re about to say. “You don’t even have your panties off yet, and I could probably get off right now.”
You laugh, not wanting to ruin the mood with the whole cum on his own face thing, so you save that for later. Instead, you instantly slip your panties off and present yourself to him much like he’s doing for you.
“Better?”
Jake watched with his breath stuck in his throat, now finding it harder to breathe at the image of your pussy and the way he hopes he can touch it one day.
“Can you–” He pauses, not being used to dirty talk towards anything other than the porn playing on his phone. He thinks hard, and you can see it based on the way he, once again, neglects his cock with an unmoving palm.
“Can I do what? Go on,” You urge him, running a hand up to your chest and fondling your nipples right there in front of him, but not yet moving the fabric. “What do you want me to do for you, baby?”
Baby. You called him baby. Not that he’s into that but the fact that you did it makes him wonder if he is now. Maybe it’s because he wants you to take him for all he’s worth at this point. One, to get rid of the virginity looming over his head, and two, because you sound so fucking smooth when you’re watching him get off.
“Can you spread your pussy for me?” He whispers at first, uncaring of how dirty it sounds falling out of his throat with a moan.
His eyes are boring a hole through his screen as he watches one of your hands tease at your hidden nipples, and the other hand sliding up and down the wet folds there. So badly does he want to see it. He wants to see your hole pulsing for him, leaking, needy. Just like him.
His cock twitches wildly the second you do it for him. Two fingers spreading your pussy open and tensing your hips just to move it closer to the screen for him.
“Is this what you want?” You start, making damn sure he can see every part of your glistening cunt. “You want to fuck this?” You chuckle now, slowly dipping a finger into yourself and pulling it back out to present the wetness for him.
“Oh,” he sighs, now fucking into his fist at a pace that proves he’s most definitely never fucked a woman before. “Fuck.”
You nod at him, urging him to keep admitting his attraction to you. You’re aware he doesn’t see it though, as his hips continue to move quicker and quicker each time you press your finger into yourself.
“You gonna act like this when I’m riding you?” You ask with a tilted head, studying how hard he’s fucking against his hand. You can imagine how good it would feel if it were you, and quite frankly, this one finger isn’t enough at this point.
“God. You’re gonna ride me?” He moans, eyes rolling only slightly as he imagines it, mouth falling open at the mere thought of it.
“Mhm,” you hum, now sliding in another finger and scissoring yourself open with them. “Would you want that?”
Before you can even work yourself up, and before he can even answer that question, you see him release. His cum shooting out in spurts across his stomach and nearly up to his chest. His labored breathing shifts the lighting against his abs and makes him look so entirely delicious. You’ve never wanted to lick a man clean so badly in your life.
You’re not even upset that he didn’t make it into the knitty gritty, considering he’s a virgin and all and you’re literally fucking yourself in front of him while implying riding him. You’re actually flattered.
His release caused him to see white for several moments, forgetting he’s even on camera for you. When he comes back to reality, watching you continue to finger yourself as your eyes scan your screen, all he can do is feel bashful.
“S-shit, sorry,” He comments with a half laugh, looking down at his cum covered chest before looking at you again. Honestly, he could probably go again if you let him watch for a bit longer, but he’s embarrassed now. “I uh, didn’t mean to come that fast. It just kind of happened.”
“It’s okay,” You comfort him, slightly out of breath as you wonder if this is all you’re gonna get tonight. “It was cute.”
After a few moments, you sense his embarrassment and slowly slip yourself back into a sobering headspace, closing your legs and trying to ignore how wet you still are.
“Are you, um, done?” Jake says, disappointed.
“Mm, no.” You smile. “But it’s okay, I’d rather make you come first anyway.”
His face lights up despite the disappointment in his gut of not being able to see you get off.
“You still wanna see me after this?”
You nod with a smile, endeared by his need to give, but inability to do it.
“When are you free?” You ask, wondering if he’s ever going to clean himself up.
“Whenever you are.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head with, once again, the same cum-stained hand.
“I’ll text you later then,��� You smile through the screen and give a small wave before your genuine smile turns into a smirk. “After I take care of my little problem though.”
You notice him sitting up in protest, but you hang up with a satisfied laugh and head to the shower to both finish yourself off and clean up.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Grandpa Jake: what about 3pm on thurs?
You: you want to lose your virginity at 3pm….on a thursday???
Grandpa Jake: my parents have plans so ill have the house to myself for a few hours
You: or you could just come here?
Grandpa Jake: if ur comfortable with that? i thought u were supposed to come here lol
You: im comfortable, plus my roommate will kick your ass if you’re weird
Jake contemplates hard on that last part but shrugs over it. Probably a girl thing, and it’s not like he’s an actual creep or anything. You’d be the one with power over him when the two of you are alone anyway.
You: what about tomorrow, 8pm?
Tomorrow. Hell yeah, tomorrow. God, he’d show up right the fuck now if you let him. He may live with his parents but he’s got a car.
Grandpa Jake: send ur address, ill be there :)
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Tomorrow, you’ll be a man.” Heeseung croaks through the speaker at Jake, totally assuming that this whole virginity loss dating app plan was actually just a joke.
“Why do you have to say it that way?” Jake groans back, slapping his hand over his forehead and rubbing his temples. “I didn’t think anyone was actually gonna come through, she’s the first one.”
“What makes you think she’s actually gonna send you her address?” Heeseung laughs, once again placing more pity onto his best friend than anything else. “She’s probably not even a real person, you’re gonna end up at some old guy’s house.”
Jake laughs, or snorts really.
“Oh, she’s real.”
Heeseung sits up in curiosity this time, switching his phone to the other ear with interest.
“Hm? Have you already met her?”
“Kind of. We like, um,” Jake pauses, wondering if he sounds way too excited to tell him or not. “We facetimed a few hours ago.”
Silence.
“She got naked.”
“Oh ho ho!” Heeseung encourages him. “So you guys did some stuff on facetime and she still wants to meet you?”
“That’s what I said–wait,” Jake smiles to himself, about two seconds from kicking his feet before realizing what Heeseung just said. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re kind of a loser, we’ve been over this.” Heeseung laughs yet again. “Call me when you get your cherry popped or whatever.”
Then he hangs up.
Grandpa Jake: do u think im a loser?
You: yeah kinda
You’re laughing at his text as you sit across the table from Jay.
“That him texting?” Jay quirks a brow, watching you smile at your phone and practically ignore him.
You laugh again at Jake’s string of defensive texts before responding with a short “it’s okay, i like losers”, and putting your phone down to finish telling Jay that he’s gonna get kicked out tomorrow for the night.
“So,” You clap your hands in front of yourself, glaring at Jay. “You’re gonna have to be gone tomorrow at eight because I'm about to literally obliterate this guy.”
“Jesus, I’m scared for him.”
“You should be scared for me. Because, well…” You trail off for a second, scrolling up your texts to see the dick pic Jake sent before the facetime call. “He’s huge and–”
“I did not need to know that.” Jay sighs, scooting back in his chair and standing to his feet.
“You act like you don’t ask every time I fuck someone.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Weirdo.”
Jay stands there awkwardly before shrugging and lunging for your phone.
“How big?” He laughs, not actually trying to see the dude’s dick but always way too curious for his own good despite never wanting to be around to hear what the big dicks do to his best friend.
“Stop prying, you’ll get jealous.”
He scoffs, brushing off his pants of invisible dust and crossing his arms.
“I’ll have you know, my dick is perfectly sized.”
“I’m sure it is. Anyway, tomorrow, be gone.”
He nods, sauntering to the living room and flopping down on the couch.
“Keep it in your room, please. I don’t want to sit on any cum when I get home.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
It’s Thursday. It’s approximately seven in the evening on Thursday and you’re well aware that Jake is probably bubbling with anxiety if his texts are anything to go by.
So many “are you sures,” so many “you can tell me to leave if you decide you don’t want tos,” and even more “i can’t wait to see yous.”
“Jay, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” You ask, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water.
You’ve already showered again today, primped yourself up for him really. Everything smooth, soft, and ready to be touched. You wonder if Jake is doing the same, and smile.
“Hm, yeah. But I kinda wanna see him before I leave.”
You turn your head to him with a curious look, glaring only slightly.
“I swear to god if you scare him off, I’m kicking you out.”
Jay laughs, patting the couch as if to invite you to sit with him to ease your own anxiety. He can smell the familiar lotion you use before dates, and he notes that you’ve really tried to look good today.
“I think you might kill him, if I’m being honest.” Your best friend laughs softly, complimenting you.
“Thanks, that’s the plan.”
And so, the two of you sit together laughing at stupid comedy shows until your phone lights up at around seven thirty.
Grandpa Jake: i’m a little early, is that ok?
“Oh shit, he’s here.” You immediately feel nervous, which is pretty normal for you anyway so it’s easily overlooked by Jay.
He jumps up, brushing off his clothes and walking toward the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet.
“Let him in then, I’ll leave when he gets here.”
You give him a knowing look before nodding.
You: second floor, take a left when you get to the top of the stairs, third apartment on the left.
Within minutes, there’s a very gentle knock on the door and Jay is throwing himself at it to get a look at him. Unfortunately it’s a bit more awkward than he expected it to be.
Not only did Jake think your roommate was a woman, but he, at the very least, expected you to answer the door. He was preparing himself all day for this moment, to knock on your door and have you open it. At first he thought that maybe he even got the wrong apartment.
“Oh, I think I got the wrong place, sorry–”
“Nope, you’re in the right place.” Jay smiles, stepping to the side and opening the door wider for him. “You can come in.”
Jake does, awkwardly. Avoiding eye contact with Jay and barely even looking into the apartment before stepping inside.
“She got all cleaned up for you.” Jay whispers, throwing Jake a wink before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
Jake still hasn’t really looked up from the floor yet, and you make quick work to make him feel more comfortable.
“Don’t mind him, that’s my roommate.” You say, making your way toward him and trying your best not to stare because, okay, wow. He’s kind of ten times more attractive in person, which is fucking insane considering how good he looked through a screen.
“Have you and him ever like…” Jake immediately starts, realizing he might have made things weird.
“Jay?! Oh, god no.” You laugh, reaching for his arm and feeling him lean into it with relief. “You’re allowed to look up by the way. You’ve been staring at that crack in my floor since you got here.”
Immediately Jake moves his eyes up to you, the eye contact feeling more intense than it should, but you’re locked in too. The awkwardness dissolves almost instantly, he feels no need to question you further about anything really, especially with the way he feels his throat run dry at the very idea of this whole plan actually happening at some point.
When he made his profile on that app, it was kind of a half joke until like, people started talking to him. Given, no one ever followed through but you, he’s happy he stuck with it. Happy you came out of the works from said dating app, happy you picked him.
Really though, he picked you. Part of you wonders about why you want to take this from him. For power, for control, to be praised, to feel like you’re his entire world of desire for a brief time? All of those things, yes, but you can admit now that he’s in front of you that it’s a bit intimidating.
He’s not shy at all, just a bit awkward. He seems confident, he seems ready, and you find yourself lucky for being the one to get to do this for him, or with him. If at all, Jake is the type of man you could see yourself hanging out with often, with or without having sex.
Given, upon seeing him face to face for the first time, the only thing you thought about was how attractive he is. Now though, as you look back at him along with the silence of this apartment offering nothing more than awkwardness, it’s not. Because you’re seeing him for all he is and he appears to not be able to help it. Is this what people mean when they say there’s an instant spark between two people? Despite how attractive he is, you find yourself thinking of how many times he’s made you laugh in the short period of time you’ve known him along with how many times he’s willingly embarrassed himself
And now for the first time, he’s right there and all you want to do is…give him exactly what he wants.
“Okay, listen,” You start, swallowing around a lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up at record speed by just having his eyes looking into yours. You know by this point that you’re not going to be keeping your hands to yourself at all. And for his sake, he’d probably prefer it that way. “If I move too fast, just tell me to stop.”
Jake tilts his head with a dopey smile, eyes still fixed on you, scanning you, coming to terms with the fact that you’re absolutely everything he thought you would be and more.
“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue,” He admits, feeling his length confined within his pants twitch wildly at the fact that this is happening. “I struggled not to get hard just driving over.” He laughs, looking away from you for the first time with flushed cheeks.
You find that painfully adorable. No man would ever admit that to you. Especially after just a few minutes of meeting in person for the first time, but this is Jake and in the short amount of time you’ve known him, you’re kind of expecting him to be really forward and say things that will have you frozen in thought.
“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen. You’re pretending that his apparent inexperience isn’t getting to you, but you’re not really fooling anyone. “Let’s get you some water or something, I can see you drooling.”
Jake laughs, shrugging because yeah maybe he’s drooling a little bit. You smell fucking immaculate, your hand is small in his but still manages to overpower him, your skin feels soft and slightly cold. Honestly, it’s dangerous just having you stand in front of him right now because he could absolutely blow his load just by you looking at him. Embarrassing? Always.
He follows after you, very nearly crowding up to you as the comfort sets in and the last bit of awkwardness leaves his mind. All he can think about is how you sounded over that facetime call. He’s seen what’s between your legs, and during that night all he could think about was touching you, fucking you.
Now he’s here, and you’re right there.
It’s hard not to crowd up, it’s hard not to cling to you, it’s hard not to be excited. Seeing your hand wrapping around that bottle of water to give to him, seeing you lean just before grabbing it– of course he’s staring. Of course he’s crowding closer, almost to the point that he’s up against your ass when you lean back up from the fridge.
You turn after grabbing him the bottle and are shocked by his close proximity when you face him. He looks down at you with a soft face, one that shows he’s not embarrassed by how he immediately attaches to you. His smile is just as clumsy as he is, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing too. You’re glad, because it makes it entirely too easy to drop the water bottle, grab his face, and chase his lips all the way until he’s against the counter and kissing you back.
He sighs instantly into it, wincing at the way the kitchen counter hits his back, you pressing against him so harshly just to get that first taste of his lips. He’s excited that you seem as eager as him, maybe even as desperate as him.
For you, a man has never been this eager just to kiss you, nor has a man ever kissed you this good. You can imagine that he’s probably got a lot of experience in terms of kissing, not much elsewhere though. You can tell by the way he moves his hands to all of the right places, but his blatant virginity shows through all of it as he becomes a horny mess almost instantly.
His tongue is warm and wet, small whining sounds coming from his throat as you press yourself against him briefly. His hands never leave your body and he shows no shame in touching where he wants to touch. Rubbing, groping, and caressing every inch of your waist, ass, and even moving up to your face to deepen the kiss. His hips press forward almost constantly, and all you can do is brace yourself on the counter behind him to try and tame his relentless hips and obvious attempts at rushing what he wants right now.
If you’re going to sleep with him though, he’s gonna get the full experience, not a quickie. Plus, you agreed to keep it in your room for Jay’s sake.
“Hey,” you sigh, trying to pull back from the kiss but he isn’t having it. Still kissing against you and running his lips down to your neck when you continue to speak. “We should go to my room, your first time isn’t about to be in my kitchen.”
“Why not?” He groans against your neck, kissing harshly with faint wet sounds, his hands wrapping tightly around your waist now. “I don’t care where we do it, i just want you like, really bad.”
Still, his lips don’t leave you, nor do his hands. You find yourself giggling against him with a shake of your head at the way he protests when you pry yourself from his grip. Of course, though, he’s immediately clinging to you and chasing after you to your bedroom before practically throwing himself at you again.
You barely get the door closed before he’s pressing you against the wall, hand running down again to your waist and easily snaking up your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. You let him, enjoying the way he kisses you for just the second time, enjoying more the way you can feel him lose his composure every few minutes from this alone.
You’re kind of in love with the fact that he doesn’t seem to want to pull back even for a breath. He seems to love kissing, and you wonder what else he’ll come to love doing tonight too. From the way he moves his tongue and his lips on you, you can imagine he’d be fucking heavenly at eating pussy.
Successfully you push him away again, rushing to your bed before he can make you melt against his lips for a third time, and you’re instantly trying to present yourself to him much like you did over camera.
“You’re really going to let me?” He asks with a deep breath, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth. His brain malfunctions at your presumed answer to that question, watching you take your panties and shorts off in one go and leaning back to spread your legs for him.
At this moment, you’re all his and you make it a point to spread your pussy out for him like he asked you to do before. You can practically see his knees buckle that very instant.
“To think I wouldn’t want to do this is insane,” You say, wiggling your hips for him to see. “Look how wet I am.” You pause, studying the hungry look in his eyes. “Do you wanna try eating me out?”
He doesn’t even nod. He’s immediately on his knees against your bed and gripping your thighs to pull you toward his face. You yelp only slightly at the movement, a chuckle coming out shortly after as you sit yourself up properly to take in the image of his eyes sparkling up at you.
It looks like he’s been wanting to do this to someone all his life, with his needy body proving it time and time again. Your breath is caught in your throat, a small groan coming out at the image alone before you’re able to process words again.
“Can’t believe how good you look down there,” You say softly, brushing his hair out of his face for him like he did to himself earlier. “Have you ever done this before?”
He shakes his head, eyes shifting from your pussy to your face. You can feel his nervous yet eager breath against you, making your eyelashes flutter at even that slight sensation.
“Go on then.” You sigh out, trying to prepare for what he can manage with that pretty mouth of his.
You watch him and the way he doesn’t seem to think at all when he does it. Once again, he’s adorable. His tongue goes everywhere, only grazing your clit briefly every few licks, never staying on it presumably because he’s in the process of finding the clit based on how your body reacts.
He has a general idea of where it is, but the feeling of having your pussy spread out like this on his lips alone is enough to overwhelm him with arousal, to the point he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing. All he can do is taste and smell the mixture of your warmth along with the soap and lotion you must have used before he came here.
He’s quite literally tasting the entirety of you and loving every second of it. The way his hands grip your legs, both spreading them further open so that he can tilt his head and lick at different angles, and then hugging them to where they almost lock his head in place.
It feels like he does this for ages, learning your body and what makes your legs shake. He sucks in different places, kissing your entire pussy to the point that it’s almost impossible for your legs not to shake in a reaction at what he’s doing to you.
Dare you say, a man who is inexperienced at eating a woman out somehow feels better than one who knows exactly where to go.
“Fuck, knew you’d be good at this,” You compliment with a shaky voice, reaching down to his hair and holding his head in place. “Keep licking there, and use your fingers too.”
He hums without stopping, taking note of where you place his lips and reminding himself that this is the clit, just as suspected. He attaches his lips there, kissing it much like he kissed you in the kitchen.
You can feel his fingers make their way into you shortly after, each bump of his knuckle sending a delicious sensation throughout your body. You’re tingling from your head to your toes at this point and your face heats up beyond what you thought it would. Your hips move on their own in response, experimentally fucking against his fingers as he keeps his tongue flicking at you.
“Just like that,” You encourage him, running your hands through his hair and looking down at him. Seeing his head move with each little thrust of your hips is only more arousing in this moment. His eyes half open, watching you, tasting you, almost smiling around your clit when he makes eye contact with you.
It almost seems like he’s asking if he’s doing well, and goddamn is he. He’s doing amazing.
“So good,” You say shortly, trying to give him the praise he needs while scratching against his scalp as a thank you, still fucking your hips up just to feel his fingers plunge deeper.
He, on the other hand, is fucking feral right now. Tasting you, dipping his fingers into you, feeling that warmth for the first time, the small clenches— he’s swimming in a fantasy. Every time you move your hips up, he can smell the entirety of you, he can feel your pussy squeeze his fingers, and god. He doesn’t think he ever wants this to end.
All day. He could do this all fucking day. No wonder men make fun of other guys for not giving head. Why wouldn’t they? He can feel your legs tensing up around his head, your gentle fingers running through his hair, the sounds coming from your lips. He’s in love, he’s in love.
He doesn’t stop, tongue flicking your clit so beautifully, fingers slowly fucking in and out of you, not even in time with your jerking hips. Shockingly, you approach orgasm so fucking fast that you can barely warn him, you’re not even thinking when you put pressure on his head, pressing his lips so harshly against your clit— his moan sending a vibration straight through you.
“Faster, with your fingers—“ You choke out in a drawn out and pornographic moan, curling your toes and feeling him do exactly as you say.
There, you release with his fingers plunging in and out of you, the wet sound of your pussy only sounding more messy by the time you begin to release. In the midst of it all, you feel him pull his lips from your clit and lick around his fingers before coming back up and continuing his ministrations, working you through an orgasm you’re not even sure he knows you’re having right now.
Insane, really, that he needed to taste the messy relief before resuming.
Strings of curses, little tugs against his hair, legs shaking, all of it happens at once until the feeling of his fingers become sensitive inside of you, until his tongue is flicking a bundle of nerves begging to be left alone.
You swat him away with a smile, leaning up quickly and grabbing him by the shirt.
He doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on but he laughs with you, being pulled to his feet and falling onto the bed on top of you. You can feel his cock in his pants, so fucking hard, probably leaking and feeling quite neglected.
“Did you…?” He asks softly, dipping his head shyly with his wet chin shining in the light of your room.
You smile at him, leaning up to kiss him square on the mouth before you flip him over and get between his legs.
“I did,” You laugh in a daze, starting to work on his button and zipper. You’re reeling from the recent orgasm and want nothing more than to let him feel the same way you do right now. “And now, I'm gonna do the same for you.”
He chokes out a nervous laugh, holding your hand in place from pulling his pants down.
“Unless, you don’t want that?” You ask, tilting your head with a bit of a frown.
“N-No! It’s not that!” He reassures you, cheeks flushing more than they already were. “It’s just that– like, what if I don’t last very long? I’m kind of sensitive.”
His eyes avoid yours when he says it and once again, most adorable man award goes to fucking Jake.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” You lean forward, kissing him again. “You just gave me some of the best head in my life.”
The light in his eyes returns and instantly he’s flashing a nervous smile at you.
“Jake, I’ve never gotten off that fast from being eaten out.” You reassure him again, making a point to use his name loud and clear. “If you don’t get off from me sucking your cock, I might actually cry.”
Well, he can’t have that now, can he?
He releases your grip on his jeans, allowing you to pull them down. For some reason unable to look at you despite knowing you’ve seen him jerk off before. It’s the fact that like, what if it’s suddenly not big enough? What if his cock is ugly or curved in a way you don’t like?
Before he can even start to doubt himself more, he feels your lips on the tip and instantly his eyes are looking down at you. You’re the one smiling now, using one hand to hold his base and the other hand already scooping up his balls for added pleasure.
You make a point to look him in the eye as you let the saliva collect in your mouth when you pull back slightly. There, you let it fall from the tip of your tongue, all the way until you feel the wetness against your fingers wrapped around his base.
He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane watching you like this, and god, does he. You don’t even show him your struggle of taking in the sheer size of him. Lowering your mouth until you’re taking him in as much as you can. You try to keep eye contact up until you have to close your eyes.
It’s not shocking that by the point you get half of his length into your mouth, he’s fucking up without full intention and letting out a choked apology. Still, you try to force your stretched lips to smile for him, even through the gag, even through the harsh feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.
How the fuck has a cock this good not been worshiped before? By a mouth? A hand? A pussy? You’ll be damned not to choke on it. You’d rather eat glass than to let him leave this apartment without being completely emptied and praised for every drop.
He’s actually struggling already not to come, holding himself back but failing each time his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Each time you gag, it stimulates the fuck out of his cock and he nearly wants to cry each time it happens. Even with that other girl who went down on him, she didn’t even attempt to fit this much in her mouth. Most of the pleasure came from her hand jerking him off while she suckled against his head, but you. You’re down there, slipping your mouth up and down on him like that, gagging, tearing up, and still fucking smiling about it.
He’s in love.
He holds his hands back at least, keeping them against your sheets and gripping them so hard that he fears he’s ripping through them. Everything feels hot, you look hot, you sound hot, your tongue still manages to move against the base of his cock with what little room it does have, and god– your other hand, massaging his balls.
“Wait, wait wait–” Jake groans, fucking his hips into your mouth once again until you pull off with a concerned look.
“Were my teeth hurting you?” You ask, gasping a bit for air.
“No!” He heaves out with fluttering lashes, trying to regain sanity. “I was just getting really close.”
“Hm?” You sigh in disappointment, this time going all in at once and not letting yourself stop until he’s releasing into your mouth.
You feel his shaking fingers brush your cheek when you do it, hollowing it out just to fit more, more, more into your mouth before lapping your tongue against his base again.
His groaning turns into frantic moans, his hips jerking wildly, unable to escape the clenching muscles of your gagging throat, and he’s honestly in heaven once again.
“Ah–wait–fuck.” He tries to protest, not wanting to finish so quickly, but there it goes. There he goes.
Never in his life has he felt an orgasm so satisfying. His eyes roll back and his fingers go numb when he releases, pumping himself deep into your throat and not stopping until he’s dizzy. The fact that you kept your mouth on him through it, the fact that he could still feel you gagging, swallowing, and moaning all at once through it– how?
“How–” he takes a breath, pulling you off of him so you can breathe. “How did you do that?”
You shrug with a confident smile, wiping your tears and crawling up to meet his face.
“I don’t normally do that for guys.” You say with a rasp in your voice. “I certainly don’t just swallow for anyone.”
He feels special, and fucking spent but god does he want to keep going. His softening cock twitching in a relieving way, probably glad to have finally been touched by something other than his own hand. Part of him wonders if you’re done though, because by now you’ve both gotten off and usually that’s the end goal, right?
But he hasn’t lost his virginity yet, and when he looks at you hovering above him, he already knows you’re not done with him.
“We need to let you rest until you can get hard again,” You say, kissing him more easily than before and letting him taste himself, letting you taste yourself mixed with him. “What’s something you wanna do to get you back into the game?”
He sighs out a laugh, fucking amazed that you’re his first. How lucky is that? He thinks hard, watching the way you lift your shirt off of yourself. God, he forgot tits existed for a solid part of this day and that’s a shame because instantly his sensitive cock throbs at the image of them coming into view.
You watch him stare, trailing your hands down and lifting his shirt off of him as well.
“I– I don’t even know at this point.” He admits with a stammer, ignoring the fact that his hair is definitely sticking up all over from you taking his shirt off of him.
“I’ll just love on you while you think, then.”
He gives a short nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside at the way your gentle hands caress his chest and abs before you start kissing against the muscles and soft skin there.
He relaxes his body, feeling your hands and lips on him. You were right when you said you’d love on him as he thinks about it. The hard part of it is actually thinking about what’s going to get him harder the fastest. You doing this could be enough, but your tits. And fuck, your pussy.
He lets out a whine, one that feels entirely out of character and it causes you to pause your gentle kiss against his nipple and pull back.
“Already?”
He shakes his head, staring straight at your chest and then down to what's between your legs.
“I want to, um…” He shifts his eyes away from you. “Can I eat you out again?”
That’s new. Twice in one session?
“Oh yeah? Did that get you going?”
You receive a small nod from him before his hands are reaching out for your tits and warming them up.
You relax into the feeling of his fingers on your chest only for a moment before you pull back again, this time adjusting yourself onto the bed face down, ass up in front of him. Might as well try a bunch of different positions for him too, right?
“Whenever you’re ready.” You sigh, already grabbing a pillow to hug through this.
You can feel the bed shift behind you, the weight of his body dipping right behind you before you feel his warm breath against your core. Only now do you realize that you already missed the way he ate you out the first time, you can barely contain yourself knowing he’s going to do it again.
His hands snake between your legs before his lips get any closer, spreading them before pulling his hand back up and spreading your pussy open with his fingers on his own this time.
“It’s really the prettiest.” He says in a clear and shaking voice, watching the way your hole pulses at the air that hits it. “And I've watched a lot of porn.”
You’d tell him to shut up, but you’re not gonna because it’s cute how forward he is with his thoughts. If anything, he’s treating you right now by doing this, so he can say whatever he fucking wants right now.
“Yeah? You just gonna stare at it?” You try to urge him, and it works.
Because of course it works.
You do your best to contain any rising orgasm, solely because you don’t want to spend yourself before you actually let him inside of you in full. But goddamn, he’s just as eager now as he was the first time…if not more.
He thinks back to the things he did before, mimicking that and hitting all of the perfect spots without fail. Still, you hold back, pushing and pulling yourself away and toward him just to feel his tongue chase. He eventually holds you in place against him, big hands holding you firmly against his face with a bit of force. And now? He’s licking you deeper than you’ve ever been licked before. It’s a different kind of sensation, and the way he groans into it is entirely too much for you right now.
You need more, you want more. You want all of him by now, so aroused by every touch, breath, and moan that it’s becoming unbearable to just be eaten out. The thought that he’s doing this to get himself hard again is flooring, and the feeling of his fingers replacing his tongue much like before is intense.
After just that one time, he knows exactly how to make you cum this way and it’s dangerously attractive to realize that. He goes straight for it too, pulling back to watch his fingers slip into you up to the knuckle.
He hums out a rumbled moan at the sound of your cunt squelching around his fingers. So wet. More wet than any of the girls in the porn he’s watched for years. You’re dripping around his fingers, and the smacking sound is so fucking arousing to him.
And yeah, he can’t reach your clit with his mouth this time so he thinks hard about how to fix this little dilemma and you’re floored even more by the fact that he solves problems without questioning. You feel his fingers leave you and land on your clit, and right then you feel his tongue again, just as deep, licking into you and all over you.
The sound of your pussy amplifies when it’s against his tongue, and honestly, he could cum right now if he really wanted to. Already he’s hard again, but god feeling you, hearing you, seeing you like this for him? For some guy who has never once been able to give a girl his all like this?
He’s so focused on you.
Which for you, is a bit of an issue because he’s really not going to let you hold it in, he’s going to have you fucking unravelling again and it’s too good. Thankfully, when you try to lift to look behind yourself, you take note of his other hand working himself.
He’s hard again, and god knows how long he’s been doing that.
You pull your body away from him quickly to let your rising orgasm subside, his protesting moan doing nothing but heating your body up more when you flip over and watch him.
“You were really just going to get me off again and not try to fuck me yet?”
He looks down at himself and then back at you, smiling and running his hand through his hair.
“I like doing it, I wanted to see if I could make you–”
“You absolutely could have but I’m going to be honest,” You start, interrupting him and pulling yourself up to crawl over him. “If you’re ready, I’d like to live up to my promise.”
His eyes are much sharper than they were before when you say those words. This is actually it. He would have been perfectly happy just eating you out, getting head himself, or whatever. Over and over again. Any and all of it is better than being in his room alone, but you’re really–
“Really?” He asks, knowing full well the answer..
“Lay back, get comfortable,” You instruct with deep breaths, scooting up the bed with him, keeping yourself planted on his legs despite the discomfort. “You still want me to ride you, yeah?”
He nods almost frantically, landing his hands on your tits without hesitation and groping them in a blatant show of how ready he’s managed to get himself for this.
Not that you want to rush, but you’re so fucking turned on by this point, the only thing you want is to be filled by him. His is cock likely bigger than any you’ve taken before, and to be fair, you don’t even care if you’re the desperate one at this point. You’ve almost forgotten he’s a virgin.
“Wait,” He stops you when you slide over his cock, bare pussy coating his length in a languid grind. “Oh, fuck, wait- no,” He breathes in a sharp breath and grips your hips. ”Do that again.”
You smile at his frantic thoughts pouring from his lips, sliding against him again, and again, up until he’s leaning forward and attaching his lips to one of your nipples and suckling against it hard.
You groan as you grind, feeling the head of his now, fully hard, cock bumping against your previously stimulated clit. He groans with you, almost at the exact same time but continues to try and leave his mark on you. In love with finally getting your tits in his mouth, your pussy on his cock, and most of all, in love with the fact that you’re not laughing at him for any of it. You seem to melt into it much like he does and he can’t help but want to email the creator of that fucking app and personally thank them for this.
You rub yourself against him until it’s even more unbearable than before. By now, you’ve completely soaked his length and he’s completely soaked your chest in saliva and tiny swollen bite marks. Not that you mind the biting, his little rumbled grow-like moans only made this all the more arousing.
“Ready?” You finally sigh out, deliberately grinding against him slowly now, with almost your entire weight behind the grinds.
He groans out a “please” before immediately gripping your hips and stopping you. Pulling his head back so hard and so quickly– he kind of forgot to unlatch from your nipple and it sends a sharp pain throughout your body, one that only makes you want to ride him hard. Right now.
“Hold on, there’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans–”
“Okay, and?” You laugh, sliding forward again and grinding your clit against him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.”
He looks at you, his sharp eyes falling back into the sparkling doe eyes as his mouth falls open at the very idea that he gets to hit is fucking raw for the first time?
“Unless you’re lying, and you’re not really a virgin?”
He’s quick to silence your doubt. He’s 100% never had his cock inside of anything other than his own palm and– malfunction. He’s blank again, staring up at you and wincing at the feeling of you pleasuring yourself on top of him.
“Please?” He manages to get out, gripping your hips so tightly by now that he’s sure it’s hurting you.
You smile, humming at him when you lift from him, standing on your knees to grab his cock and position him in the right place.
“You sure you want it too?” You ask, only now realizing that you’re genuinely about to take a man’s virginity, and it’s only fair that you give him one last time to decide if he wants you to take it from him. Despite how turned on you are, and regardless of how badly you want to fuck him, it’s not right to just do it without making him really think about it.
“Fuck, yes.” His fingers tighten against you, his eyes squeeze shut, and his voice comes out as frantic and quite frankly, a bit annoyed. “Just do it already.”
You can’t help but smile at him when you do. Lowering yourself slowly on him and feeling the stretch of it. His face is something that you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He appears to be lost in it, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving, his teeth showing through a half-smile as he moans out at the sensation.
He can’t get over how warm it is inside of you, the constant clenching of your pussy dragging along his entire length. He can’t help it when he moans, he doesn’t care that his voice cracks, or that it sounds like a pathetic sob.
By the time you bottom out and sit like that for a moment, you almost feel like he’s the one who needs to adjust. Of course, you’re needing this moment to adjust too but god– just watching him makes you that much more wet and it’s insane how into him you are right now. As if you haven’t been since you started talking to him.
“Feels good?” You ask, involuntary clenching around his size, letting out a small sigh yourself at the feeling of his leaking cock inside of you.
He hums at you and then takes in a deep breath before fully opening his eyes again and looking at you. Technically, he’s no longer a virgin now. It’s fucking happening, and you’re hot? So fucking hot? You feel so good? You smell so good. You sound so fucking good.
Everything is overwhelmingly good, all he can do now is press his hips up and instantly moan out at the new feeling.
You take that as an invitation to absolutely obliterate him, much like you knew you would. So, you do. Lifting yourself up and sliding him almost entirely out of you before sinking down again.
His hands shoot to your waist, then he lifts slightly to grab your ass from behind you, and then he flops himself back– seemingly unable to know what the fuck to do with himself at this feeling.
You opt to grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his and holding them above his head, all so you can lay chest to chest with him, lips right at his neck. You start kissing, riding him so smoothly and doing nothing but listening to his little sounds that he tries to keep inside.
“You’re really cute, you know that?” You whisper against his ear, kissing there too before pulling back to look at his face.
That half-smile never leaves his face, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tightly that you actually start to worry that he may break them. Thankfully, he begins to relax after a few minutes. Adjusting to the overwhelming pleasure and now losing himself to the arousal rather than fighting it.
You nearly squeak when you feel him release your hands and grab your face, pulling you up to him as he kisses you mindlessly. Breathlessly, moaning into your mouth all while moving his own hips now. You can feel him jerk his hips, imagining how he fucked his hand through facetime. This is better than that.
You prop to stand up on your knees, offering him the space to fuck you as hard as he’d like, and god. It’s hard. It’s deep, and it’s so clumsy. No rhythm, no thought behind it at all, you can fucking tell he’s purely running on adrenaline as he plunges into you.
He’s actually going so hard, that your moans sound more pained than pleasurable, but that’s not the case at all. You actually can’t stop moaning, it’s just the fact that each time he slams into you, your throat lets out a broken sound.
For a moment, you think you can actually hear him unintentionally growl against your slack lips as he does it. Already he’s lasted longer than you thought he would, especially without a condom, and you’re so fucking impressed by it.
You slide your hand between your bodies, easily rubbing your own clit and drying out your throat even more with the consistent loud moans of how good he’s doing. After a few moments though, his hips stutter and you take that as a sign that you should take over again.
“I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this to me,” You laugh out of pity for yourself, “I really thought I could last longer than this.”
He barely hears you through his ringing ears and rapid heartbeat, but he chuckles at the compliment. Feeling like he must be doing something right to have a woman say that to him. There’s one issue. He’s about two thrusts from cumming again and he will be damned to ruin this for you.
You take over, riding him harshly and rubbing your clit even harder. He takes a moment to try and distract himself from how good your pussy feels clenching him and takes it upon himself to bite down hard against his tongue. Something to hurt enough to keep his orgasm from bubbling over, but also not something so awful that he’d lose his arousal entirely.
You continue, pushing yourself back up from him and watching the way he tries to focus on anything but what’s happening. You ride deliberately to get him off though, knowing that the second he does, you’ll let yourself go too. He doesn’t seem to be picking up the hints.
“Are you close?” You ask, out of breath and riding him so consistently that it’s becoming more and more difficult to hold your own orgasm. “Let it go, do it with me–”
Instantly, you hear him whimper out a moan as he releases the bite on his tongue. Shooting himself forward and hugging you so tightly that the pressure of your fingers against your clit is entirely unbearable.
“Oh, god. I’m–” You start, moaning against his hair as he hugs against you.
He’s so fucking relieved, already releasing into you as you say those words. All he can do is breathe through it, feeling your pussy pulse around him as he continues to empty himself into you.
It’s entirely too intense, his ears popping and heart threatening to send him to a hospital. Never did he think having sex was this intense.
Little does he know… it’s not. But even you, for some reason, find yourself wondering why the fuck that was so good.
By the time you pull yourself off of him, both of you wincing and trying to ignore the mixture of cum running down your legs, all you can do is look at him with curiosity.
He can barely open his eyes to look back at you, but he tries, he really does.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
He’s not going home tonight. Of course he’s not. Like, how fucking rude would it be to take his virginity and send him on his way? Absolutely the fuck not.
In fact, you made him some food, wobbling on spent legs throughout the kitchen as he lays on his death bed in your room. (He’s being dramatic.)
All he can do is listen to the sounds of you in the other room and think hard about how he just felt. Physically, it was a lot. Surely if sex is like that all the time, he’d rather not do it as often as Heeseung does. Honestly, his sanity would be at stake.
But like, you’re kind of amazing. Given, the two of you barely know each other past lame texts and bullying each other. Physically, you know him more than any other woman and that’s a block he didn’t think would be an issue until it became one.
You made him cum twice. And he thinks you did too, unless you’re lying just to make him feel better. There’s no way you didn’t feel the intensity of that though. There’s no way your wobbling legs were lying to him when you got up and told him you wanted to have a snack before bed.
There’s no way you would let him sleep over if you didn’t feel the same way he does right now.
And by the time you’re back, handing him a plate of food, he can’t help but believe that nothing will ever taste as good as you.
The thing is, that’s one of the main reasons you did this. To be praised, to have a man think you’d be the best he will ever have until he eventually meets someone else and they do better than you did. Now though, you feel weird.
This is a one night stand. A charity-fuck, as it still stands at least.
“So,” You start, taking a bite of your food still as naked as can be regardless of how stupid it must look to be eating in a cum-soaked bed like this. “I guess you should change your bio in the app now.”
He looks at you, and then at his food.
“Yeah, I guess I should…”
“I’ll help you fix your age on it. Now that you know what you’re doing with a woman and all.”
It’s silent for a minute.
“Is it too forward if I say that I’d rather just delete the app and keep calling you?”
Thank fuck Jake is forward and embarrassing with it. You’re not ready to give up the single life but on the other hand, after that, you’re not exactly ready to share him with other women just yet either. If he wants to attach himself for a while, you’re going to let him. Purely because, like, look at him. Everything is endearing, and when he’s not being adorable he’s just being fucking hot.
Maybe you will be ready to give up the single life if it’s with Jake.
You nod with a smile, wondering if he expects you to delete the app too. Because you’re not so sure about that, but also you think you probably would if he asks with those stupid doe eyes.
Strangely enough, he doesn’t even ask. He just starts eating the food with a content look on his face. Sweat having dried up but left his hair a mess, his skin is glowing– you think…oh no. Why are you looking at him like this?
“Hey, I should probably call Jay and tell him not to come home until late tomorrow or something.”
Jake nods, lifting his eyes to you and watching you take your phone out.
“I should call my friend too, he told me to let him know when I get my cherry popped.”
You snort at him with a laugh right as Jay answers the phone, and honestly, you’d rather listen to Jake’s friend than Jay whining about having to spend even more time with his overbearing parents.
“Hey Jay, don’t come home 'til I call you tomorrow, bye.” You say quickly before hanging up.
Instantly you’re setting your plate on your table and launching yourself at Jake and his phone.
“Put him on speaker.”
Jake does just that, laughing at Heeseung’s reaction when he hears you speak rather than his best friend over the line.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
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goodnight n go
★ | member — fwb!vernon x f reader ★ | genre — smut, angst, non-idol au, happy ending, fwb to lovers ★ | word count — 10.2k
★ | synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different.
★ | warnings — guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, mentions of alcohol, vernon has commitment issues (but he gets over it) ★ | smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, consensual drunk sex, car sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering, piv, making out, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk vernon (he's down baddd), some aftercare ★ | notes — thanks to @onlymingyus for always being the best and to @wonustars for proofreading !! i did not intend for this fic to be this long but i'm actually really proud of how it turned out so i hope you like it!! also i often make playlists for my fics but i never share them, but i've been listening to this one for months while i've been writing this fic so i'll link it so you can listen too. if you enjoy this fic, please reblog and let me know in the tags!! reblogs are super important to tumblr and they help motivate me to keep writing more like this :)
check out the playlist! featuring — goodnight n go - ariana grande ; black eye - vernon ; uh oh - tate mcrae ; sunset - caroline polachek ; romanticise this - james marriott ; entertainer - zayn ; & more
“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”
as usual, that’s how it starts.
you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.
you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.
at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.
you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.
he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.
every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.
hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.
he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.
he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.
he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.
hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your bra and pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.
he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.
his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.
you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.
he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.
the last half of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.
hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.
“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.
“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.
“i’ll wait with you, then.”
the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same.
sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.
no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.
finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.
maybe this time will be different.
he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week.
and you find yourself nodding.
you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.
maybe next time will be different.
this is going to be the last time, you swear.
you exhale as you stand inside the lobby of the venue, repeating the words to yourself. there’s a chill in the air tonight. the wind blows smoke in your direction from the couple standing by the door, abandoned cigarettes clutched between their fingers as they make out sloppily.
you grimace and turn away, studying the faded graffiti and half-ripped posters and advertisements that litter the walls around you. you mean it this time, seriously. the only reason you came tonight was because it’s the last time. a goodbye, of sorts.
you have to admit, you were a little shocked when hansol texted you after your weekly meet-up after practice. not only did he want to make sure you got home safe after you left, but he’d asked if you’d come to their next performance.
you stare down at your phone in your hand, rereading the texts for what feels like the thousandth time in the past few days just to make sure you haven’t imagined them. but no, there they are, bright pixels staring right back up at you from the screen.
hansol: hey just wanted to make sure you made it back home
hansol: btw we’re playing at the phoenix on saturday and i was wondering if you had plans? i wanna see you
hansol: maybe we could get dinner after or somethin if youre down idk
hansol: hoping youll be there
you’d been tempted to refuse him, out of bitterness or resentment or something else, but you can’t say you weren’t shocked by his offer. he’d suggested every once in a while that you should come see them play sometime, but it was always clear to both of you that it was out of small talk rather than genuine interest in you being there. but this time he’d said he wanted you there.
it was nice to feel wanted, for once. maybe you hadn’t been going crazy. maybe things really were different this time.
you glance at your phone once more to check the time before you slip it into your pocket, taking a deep breath as you walk through the second set of doors into the main room. you can hear the deep sound of wonwoo’s drums warming up, but the stage is obscured behind a ratty set of faded red curtains.
there’s still a few minutes before their set, but the room is already crowded with people so you push your way to the side wall near the back. you don’t really want anyone to see you here, anyway. you don’t want anyone to see that your resolve is paper-thin when it comes to hansol.
you hadn’t told him that you were coming tonight, just sending him a vague response and telling him you’d have to see if your schedule is free. even that felt too generous, after the anguish he’s put you through the past few weeks. he doesn’t need to know that you’re here, just like he doesn’t need to know the real reason you’ve been avoiding ever coming to see him play. and it’s not because you always have other plans.
you’re hoping to just watch the performance quietly from the back, then sneak out without ever having to talk to him, and text him later that you’d enjoyed it. you already knew you were going to enjoy it. you’d heard every original song, cover, and riff they’d ever played together, and at this point you could probably recite their setlist by heart. anyone could see that they were talented together, so it isn’t surprising that the venue is packed tonight. honestly, it’d be for the better if you got lost in the crowd and never saw him face to face.
the house lights suddenly fade into darkness and the crowd starts to quiet, the curtains finally pulling back to reveal the band. seungcheol stands in front of a microphone in the center of the stage, with wonwoo in the back at his drum set and mingyu to his left holding a bass guitar. and then, of course, there’s hansol.
you hate the way your gaze immediately lands on him, standing in the same position he always does, with his guitar slung around his neck by a thick red strap. the crowd starts cheering, and distantly you recognize seungcheol’s voice introducing the group, but you can’t make out any of his words.
your mind flashes back to all the nights you’ve spent sitting on a folding chair in mingyu’s garage, watching them laugh and bicker and fool around. it’s different seeing them actually on a stage for once, the metal of their instruments glinting under the harsh, colorful stage lights.
it’s not a large stage by any means, just a few feet higher than the ground and barely wide enough for all four of them to fit. but their presence is captivating, and it makes the dingy local theater seem more special than it really is. but then again, hansol makes everything seem more special than it really is.
seungcheol finishes speaking and the crowd around you lets out whoops and cheers, but you stay silent. your eyes are still stuck on hansol, watching him scan the crowd as he twists the tuning pegs on his guitar.
even from the back of the room, you can tell he’s nervous. his fingers shake just a little, in a way you know they never do because you’ve watched him tune his guitar a thousand times under the dim interior lights in his car. you watch his eyes dart around the room, squinting to see into the crowd before turning his attention back to the fretboard in his hands.
he’s not the most outgoing guy in the world, but at the same time you know he’s not the kind of person to get stage fright. something is different this time. or, maybe it’s not. you’ve never actually seen him play in front of an audience. you don’t know him as well as you think you do, you have to constantly remind yourself every time your mind starts to wander and you let yourself daydream. after all, he doesn’t know anything about you, and he doesn’t seem to care enough to learn. neither should you.
the band opens with a song you’ve heard a thousand times, then another and another, pausing after every few songs to talk to the crowd. time seems to fly by around you, but everything moves in slow motion when you're looking at hansol. you study the way his hair falls in soft brown waves around his face, his head bobbing to the rhythm as he strums his guitar. it's one thing you've always enjoyed about watching him play; he always gets so lost in the music, and it's fascinating to watch. it's clearly on the list of things he's passionate about, and even if you aren't one of those things, at least you get to see him doing something he loves.
you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. you can't let yourself think like that. you're here to end things, not to reminisce. you shouldn't care if he likes music or not, that's not your problem anymore. he's not your problem anymore.
you zone out for a while, trying hard not to think about him but he's the only thing you can focus on. your eyes wander every once in a while, when you hear cheol's raspy voice in the mic or a particularly cool guitar riff from mingyu, but they always end up back at hansol.
they finish playing what you know is their last song, but the crowd is still bursting with electricity. it’s not long before everyone starts to chant, begging for one more song.
“encore?” seungcheol laughs into the mic, and flashes one of his signature dazzling smiles that sends the group of girls standing in front of you into hysterics. he glances over at hansol and nods. “mmm, yeah. i think we can do one more.”
you fold your arms over your chest. now is probably your best chance to leave. it’s not a very big venue, but from the amount of people here it’s obvious that there’ll be chaos once things are over as people start to file out. though most of them will probably be trying to fight their way to the front instead, giving wonwoo their phone numbers written on stained cocktail napkins and asking mingyu to sign their tits. but just as you’re about to start pushing your way back towards the exit, cheol’s deep voice makes you pause.
“we’re gonna play something real special tonight,” he says, making eye contact with hansol again. “something brand new, that we’ve never performed before. you guys wanna be the first to hear it?”
the room erupts into cheers again, and cheol grins. “yeah, i figured. so, i’m gonna let vernon explain this one. take it away, man.”
you stand still, arms crossed and curiosity piqued. maybe you can wait until after the last song. if this is going to be your last hurrah, then you might as well see it through til the end. just this once, and never again.
hansol clears his throat and looks out into the darkened theater. “this song is about a girl i’m in love with,” he starts. that gets a light laugh out of the crowd, a couple whistles and cheers, and he chuckles into the microphone before continuing. the words that have been brewing in your head for weeks seem to instantly melt on your tongue as his voice rings in your ears, echoing through your mind. that’s not you. that’s definitely not you.
“i hope she’s here tonight, but i wouldn’t blame her if she wasn’t. because i think i kind of fucked everything up.” he swallows, his eyes darting back and forth as he scans across the crowd, searching for something. searching for you? “so if she’s out there, i’m sorry. and i know this won’t make up for it, but i hope you like it anyway.”
the crowd cheers again, louder than they have all night, but the noise quickly dies down once hansol begins to play. the lights go dim, and the room fills with a soft melody from his guitar. the sound is unfamiliar, a song you haven’t heard before, and you realize he must’ve been working on it outside of the band’s usual practices.
even if he isn’t talking about you, the song is beautiful. his guitar seems to sing every note that plays, and you can practically see the air around him shimmering with energy. the rest of the room seems to fade away, the audience that separates you suddenly disappearing. it’s like you’re the only two people around, sitting beside him as he plays just for you.
he’s done that a few times, played you little snippets on his guitar. you can almost picture it now: it’s always right after he parks outside the bar, before you head inside together. he’ll unzip the case and pull his guitar from the backseat, positioning it on his lap. he comes up with a different reason every time; sometimes he’ll ask if the chords he’s been working on sound good together, sometimes he’ll tell you to listen to see if it needs tuning, sometimes he’ll say he just needs to practice this section a couple more times before giving up for the night and getting shitfaced with you off too many shots.
but you always see right through his flimsy excuses; obviously he’s doing it to show off, to impress you or something. but for the life of you, you’ve never been able to figure out why. why should he care about impressing you, if he doesn’t want to go any further with you?
and suddenly, as you stand in the back of the theater, watching his eyes sparkle under the lights and his fingers breeze over his guitar, looking more focused and frustrated and angry and sad and sorry than you’ve ever seen him look, now you finally have your answer.
you don’t want him to be talking about you. he shouldn’t be talking about you. you almost wish he would just be an asshole to you, give you a good reason to yell at him and cuss him out and tell him to fuck off, but he never does. sure, he’s a little dense to the not-so-subtle hints you’ve been trying to drop, but he’s always been good to you, even if it’s breaking your heart in the process. maybe you’ve been the dense one all along.
the show ends in a blur, and the lights come back on as people start to file out. there's cheers and more shouts for another encore, but it's clear the night is over. this is the part you've been dreading; even after days of convincing yourself, you're still not sure what you're going to do.
when the crowd finally clears out enough for you to move towards the stage, you can already see the group that’s formed around the members. cheol is off to one side, giving out autographs to whoever waves their napkins closest to him. mingyu’s helping wonwoo pack up his drum kit, smiling shyly at the girls calling his name and promising he’ll come back out to the lobby to meet them once he’s finished.
and then there’s hansol, looking flustered as people crowd around him, a deep blush in his cheeks as he waves his hands to try and get them to leave. you’re just far enough from his line of sight that you almost hesitate. it’s not too late to turn around. it’s not too late to leave before he can see you, to disappear from his life forever, but your heart won’t let you.
you walk a little closer to the stage, hanging back behind the crowd of people, but he sees. his face lights up with relief, and even from a few feet away you can still see his eyes soften. he tells the people to move, more firmly with his words this time, and he hops down off the stage as they part to make room for him. when it’s clear his attention is no longer on them, they grumble and walk away, talking to their friends about the show and how hot all the members are and how they’re definitely planning on coming back the next time they perform.
hansol reaches you in a couple of strides, stopping just in front of you. he stays silent for a second, his eyes roaming over you almost gratefully.
“hi,” he says finally, offering you a lopsided smile. he wipes his palms on his jeans nervously. “you came.”
you bite your lip for a second before you nod. “i did.”
“so you’re— did you— were you here for the end of the show?” he asks, trying to hide the stutter in his words. it’s cute how shy he is all of a sudden. it’s not like him to be shy like this. but then again, the only times you’ve seen him are when he’s playing with the guys or fucking your brains out while he's drunk, so it’s not like you’ve really gotten to know him. maybe he’s always been this shy and you were just too caught up in him to notice.
you know what he’s trying to say without outright saying it. obviously you were there the whole time, a fact you aren’t the proudest of, but you aren’t about to let him know that. “i heard your song,” you finally settle on, cutting straight to the point.
his face goes through about a hundred emotions in the span of a second, from surprised to happy then right back to shy again. “yeah?”
even though most of the room has cleared out by now, he starts walking as he talks, pulling you through the side door into the quieter backstage area. you follow him around the corner until you reach a private room, a wrinkled sheet of paper taped to the door with his name written in sharpie. his guitar case that you've seen so many times lies open on the floor, his backpack slumped against one wall.
“i liked it.”
he exhales in relief as he turns back around to face you, and you can almost see his whole body relax. “i'm so fucking sorry,” he says, nearly stumbling over his words with how fast he tries to get them out. “i've been really, really stupid. the way i left you the other night… i shouldn't have let you go like that. i regretted it the second you left.”
you purse your lips as you listen. you can tell he really means it, and it's getting harder and harder to stay mad at him. but you can't let him off that easy, not after how long you've been going through this.
“i just don't understand what it is you want, hansol. you treat me like— i don't know, like nothing.” you pause and chew on the inside of your cheek for a second, letting your words sink in. “and then out of the blue you beg me to come to your show, and you play this really sweet, heartfelt song, so how the hell am i supposed to take that?”
he winces, but the wounded look on his face doesn't feel as satisfying as you'd hoped it would. “i know. i'm just… i'm bad with words. i'm better at music.” he sighs. “but that's not an excuse. i didn't ever wanna make you feel like that, not on purpose. i just got scared. but i shouldn't have.”
you stand silently, waiting. clearly, there's more on his mind. he stuffs his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, shifting from one foot to the other.
“i love the way you laugh. i love the way you watch me when i'm playing and it makes me feel like the only person in the whole world. i love the way you smile when you're drunk and the way you kiss me. and it was stupid of me to ever think i didn't want that all the time.” he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes, the fear in his expression more obvious than anything you've ever seen before.
you let out a breath, your voice dropping almost to a whisper. “you should've just said that.”
“i should've,” he agrees.
you offer him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep yourself together. this is not how you thought tonight would go. you didn't even think you'd talk to him, and if you did, you thought it would be a shouting match, screaming and cursing before angrily storming out of the venue, finally feeling vindicated after all this time. yet here you are, standing quietly in front of him and trying not to cry.
he waits for a second, trying to gauge your reaction before he continues. “you're, like, my best friend,” he says, adding a nervous little chuckle to lighten the mood. “i think about you every time i play or whenever i try to write something. it's always about you. you don't know how much i look forward to thursday practices and getting to see you.”
now it's your turn to laugh. “you literally could've just texted me and i probably would've dropped everything to be there, anytime.”
he grins, his smile a little wider this time. “yeah, i know. i tried, the other day when i invited you. that was scary as shit.”
he looks up at you again, his soft brown eyes and long eyelashes shining even under the dim flickering bulb overhead. “i'm really glad you came tonight, though. i wasn't expecting you to, but i really hoped you would.” he offers you another nervous smile. “will you let me try again?”
you don't answer right away, and the look of nervousness starts to seep back into his features. “i promise i—”
but you cut him off, pulling him in by his shoulders and pressing your lips against his. he falters for just a second but his arms immediately wrap around your waist, tilting his head to lean into the kiss, and somehow that one little action feels more natural than anything you've ever done together.
you slide your tongue against his lips, and he lets out a groan into your mouth before he pulls back to breathe. “is that a yes?”
you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and laugh, but instead you just nod. “yes.”
you definitely didn't come here tonight expecting to get laid. in fact, the last thing you ever thought you'd do is sleep with hansol again. but all of that feels like a distant memory as you head out of the community theater together, his guitar case over his shoulder, walking hand in hand towards his car.
the routine is familiar, but nothing is the same. you're not drunk, you're not in the parking lot of a cheap bar, and you don't feel lonely anymore.
he unlocks the doors and you start to climb into the backseat, but he lets out a little noise and shakes his head, and you look up at him in confusion.
“we're going back to my place. or yours, if you want.” he reaches down to offer his hand and help you out of the car. “i said i was gonna do it right this time, didn't i?”
by the time you get back to your apartment, your stomach is in knots in the very best way. your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, and if you weren’t so on edge it would have almost made you laugh, the way hansol looks away and pretends not to notice. you're more alike than you thought, and suddenly you're overcome with a feeling of excitement. now you get to discover all these little things about him: things you didn't allow yourself to see before, things he wants to show you and tell you and share with you.
you try not to let the awkwardness seep back in, but you pause outside your bedroom door, almost as if you're waiting for hansol to tell you what to do. in just one night he's turned your life on its head, and now you're at a loss.
so he takes it as a sign and kisses you, his hands finding your waist and slowly trailing up your body until he's cupping your chin. it's different from all the other times he's kissed you. it's not just the fiery passion you're used to when you can tell he's worked up, but there's a hint of uncertainty in it, more similar to the kisses he gives you afterwards when you're trying to figure out whether to ask for a ride home or not. and then, the pieces finally settle into place and you realize he wasn't kissing you like that because he didn't want you; he was kissing you like that because he did.
you pull away and he freezes a little, and you can tell from the worried look in his eyes that he thinks he's gone too far. “relax,” you laugh softly, your forearms still resting on his shoulders.
he complies, but his eyes still dart across your face in nervousness. despite how badly he wants you, how badly he needs to prove himself to you, there's clearly still so much that needs to be discussed before you can move forward, things that've been left unsaid for far too long.
you inhale and look up into his eyes, trying to find what emotion is hidden there. “what do you want, hansol?”
“want you to be my girlfriend,” he breathes out without hesitating. if it were any other time and place you might've thought he was joking, but you can tell he's dead serious.
“i—” whatever words you had ready instantly die in your throat, not expecting such a genuine answer. “yes. but i meant, like, right now. what do you want, right now.”
his expression shifts in understanding and he grins, though it's still shy. “oh. well…” he pauses again to think. “what do you want me to do?”
you watch his eyes carefully for a moment before you reply. you've wanted him to do a lot of things. you wanted him to be better, you wanted him to be worse. you wanted him to do anything besides being stuck in this weird limbo of friend-zoned friends with benefits. but now that the choice is up to you… you don't want any of that.
“i want you to be honest,” you start softly, almost shy to say it, but you know it needs to be said. “i want you to tell me how you feel. because i can't lie, you really fucked up. i shouldn't have given you so many chances.” he winces at that, but you brush your thumb along his cheek and pull his attention back to you. “but i did. so you need to earn my trust again. and i just want you to not be so afraid anymore.”
he stays silent for a long moment before he nods, as if he's seriously considering your words. “i know,” he says finally. his voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper. “i'm sorry. you're gonna get so fucking sick of hearing me say how sorry i am, but i'm not gonna stop saying it.”
you want to laugh, but his tone is so serious that you know you shouldn't, so you keep a straight face and ask him again. “so… what do you want?”
he lets out a sigh, still holding you face in his hands. “shit, everything. but, first— i really wanna taste you. can… can i?”
you take a step backwards into the bedroom and he follows, tearing off clothes one by one in a hurry until you're both left with just underwear. with the limited space in his car you've never actually been fully naked together before, and the thought of him seeing you is both terrifying and exhilarating.
he leans you down onto the bed and you pull him down with you. he falls beside you, pausing to kiss you once more before rolling off the bed and onto his knees, holding your legs in front of him as he stares up at you.
it's the kind of image that could drive a woman mad. you didn't think he was capable of being this patient, but it seems he's full of surprises tonight. “yes,” you breathe out and finally give him an answer. your eyes are locked onto his, a silent conversation happening between you in the span of a second.
he clears his throat and slowly pries your legs apart, pulling his gaze away from your face to stare between your thighs instead.
“god, this pussy…” he groans in delight as he settles your legs over his shoulders, his gaze transfixed on the wet spot at the seat of your panties.
he slides his palms up your thighs, and for his sake you pretend not to notice the way his fingers are shaking just a little. you lift your hips to encourage him, and he slips his long fingers beneath the hem of your panties before pulling them down, taking his time to slide them off and toss them on the floor behind him.
his hands immediately come back up to your thighs, using his thumbs to press your legs apart to give him a better view.
“so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles to no one but himself. it's like he's in a trance, admiring the dripping mess between your legs like it's about to be his last meal. if he hadn't been so enthusiastic, you might've been embarrassed at the electric shiver that runs through you from his praise. but when there's a man this hot in front of you, kneeling and staring up at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, it's hard to feel embarrassed for long.
he leans in and presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the feeling. he's never been incredibly rough with you before, but he’s never been this gentle, either. he's touching you so delicately, like a statue at a museum that he's not sure yet if he's allowed to touch or not.
your reaction spurs him on, and he leans in further to flatten his tongue against your entrance and gives a long, slow lick. your hips lift automatically, trying to push him closer and add more pressure.
he curls his tongue through your folds before pulling away, his hands coming up to rest on your hip bones and hold you down. “even better than i imagined,” he groans, looking up at you from his spot on the floor, and the image of him down there makes you so dizzy that you have to lay back down against the bed again.
“more,” you whimper desperately. in the back of your mind there's a distant feeling of shyness at how demanding you're being, but you don't think twice about it. after everything he put you through, he still needs to prove himself to you, that he's not going to break your heart again. but he's doing a damn good job so far. “vernon— ah, fuck!”
“mm, anything.” he presses a kiss against the soft skin on inside of your thigh. “anything you want, baby.”
you don't even have time to process the nickname before he's diving back in, his lips wrapped around your clit as he sucks at you. you let out a strangled noise of surprise, your hand instantly flying down to hold his head.
your fingers tangle in his hair, his tongue so deep in your pussy that you're already gasping and writhing under his touch. you can't tell which one of you has been more stupid for not letting this happen sooner, because it almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are.
the coil in your stomach already feels like it's about to burst, pent up with white-hot energy that feels hotter than the sun. it hardly takes a few more pointed laps of his tongue before you fall apart into his mouth, whimpering and groaning and begging shamelessly for him.
“you called me vernon,” he says when you finally manage to push his head away, shivering with overwhelming sensitivity. he lifts one hand to wipe at his chin, way too nonchalant after everything he just did.
you're still fighting through the haze of your orgasm but his words bring you back down to earth, and your face fills with heat. “huh? sorry, i—”
“everybody calls me vernon,” he says as he shakes his head, quickly cutting you off. he stands up and moves onto the bed, flopping down beside you. “i liked that you always called me hansol. made it feel special.”
your eyes follow his movements, still laying on your back as you catch your breath. “but…?”
he grins, and you swear there's a hint of blush in his cheeks. “but that was really sexy when you called me vernon. it sounds way cooler when it's coming from you.”
all you can do is laugh, letting your eyes close as you rest your hands on your stomach. “noted,” you giggle. “so should i do it more, then?”
he hums in thought, rolling over onto his side so that he's closer to you. “you can do whatever you want, baby.”
that nickname again. he's already started leaning in to kiss you again, but you grab his shoulders and pull him down to meet him halfway. there's a bitterness on his tongue that you'd almost forgotten about, but you're quickly reminded once you feel his hand sliding across your stomach and down back between your legs. you let out a surprised but happy moan into his mouth, one of your hands moving to the back of his head to kiss him harder.
your legs part, accepting the warmth of his palm as he gently presses it against your sensitive clit. he holds his hand there for just a moment, pausing his movements as he kisses you, eagerly swallowing the whimpers and sounds you give him in return.
after a minute he shifts his hand, carefully pressing his index and middle finger into you. you're right up at the edge again already, clenching down hard around his fingers as he sets a slow pace, pulling them out halfway before thrusting them in deeper than before. you're seeing stars, releasing a constant stream of muffled moans into his lips as he curls his fingers inside you. he follows the rhythm of your hips as you rut against his palm, letting the movement force his fingers even deeper.
his fingers are dripping with your juices, down his knuckles and pooling in his palm, but it only makes him want to fuck you even more. it's not like this is the first time he's fingered you. the guys at the auto shop down the street know him all too well, from the amount of times he's had to take his car in to get the seats cleaned. he always claims that it's because he's a messy eater, and while that's true in some ways, he knows those guys don't buy it for a fucking second.
his fingers are completely buried inside you but he never stops kissing you, breathing almost as heavily as you are. he stops thrusting his fingers and adjusts his hand once more, pressing his thumb against your clit to rub lazy circles over it.
“ver—vern— fuck, hansol!” you finally manage to pull away from his lips, nearly gasping for air as another orgasm rips through you. his other hand slides down your body and it feels like the first time you've ever been touched, his palm so warm and tender against your skin that it somehow makes your high even better. you're shaking in his arms, lips parted in a soundless moan as you clench wildly around his fingers, but he just holds you tighter against his body and keeps pressing kisses along your jaw.
his lips are wet with both spit and slick as he watches you, his eyes filled with stars. usually when you're together, in the dark backseat of his car illuminated only by the moonlight and nearby streetlamps, it's hard to make out the details. it's dark, and everything is fuzzy from both the alcohol and the late hour. but now, he's realizing how stupid he was for never letting this happen sooner. he could've ended up going his whole life without ever seeing you like this, laying completely fucked out under the soft light in your bedroom, your pupils wide and eyes watery and so, so beautiful.
he waits until you've calmed down again, leaning away to give you a little space, but your hand shoots out to grab his wrist and keep him close to you and he can't help but smile. when you open your eyes you're expecting to find a cocky smirk, to see how proud of himself he is for having you in the palm of his hand so easily, but it's not there. just that soft smile.
“now. what do you want?” he says. “i should be asking you that way more often.”
“want you inside,” you pant out. “now. please? i— i missed you.” you shouldn't have said the last part out loud, but at this point you don't care anymore. all your cards are out on the table.
his eyes widen a little at your boldness, but he bites his lip and nods. he can't lie and say he wasn't secretly hoping you'd say that, but he'd be just as happy to sit here on the floor and eat you out over and over and over again. he'd do anything you want at this point, and not just because he feels like he owes you. he does, but it's deeper than that. it's a different kind of feeling, one that makes him want to do cheesy shit like lay his jacket over puddles for you and buy an airplane to write your name in the sky.
as he starts to position himself between your legs on the bed, you watch his face. his expression is outwardly neutral, but little by little you've started to recognize the signs of his happiness. it looks good on him.
but your brain isn't content with that, not just yet. you swallow as a thought crosses your mind, and you can't push it down any longer.
“wait,” you say quietly, forcing the word out before you can reconsider. he stops immediately, his eyes searching your face for anything he can find, any sign that you've changed your mind about this.
“yeah?” he replies, his voice just as quiet, as if he's afraid to speak too loudly and break the tension of this moment.
you clear your throat as best you can manage, though it's kind of starting to get sore from how much and how loudly you've been moaning all night. “just curious,” you start, nervousness suddenly starting to creep in. but tonight is for being honest, and you can handle the truth. probably.
“before, while we were together— well, it doesn't really count as being ‘together’ but you know what i mean.” you pause again, chewing your lip. “did you ever… y'know. was there ever anybody else?”
hansol exhales, still hovering over you. “no. unless you count lotion and my hand, ‘cause there was a lot of that.” your eyes soften and you visibly relax at his words, and he mentally kicks himself for ever making you even think that was the case. that there would ever be anyone else for him but you. “i know i was stupid, but i'm not that stupid.”
“okay.” you pause again, trying to figure out how to get back on track. “sorry, i just wanted to know. i don't care.”
he scoffs, but his tone is more melancholy than angry. he shifts on top of you so he can rest on his elbows, getting closer and brushing his hand over your hair. “you should care. if i had, i would've given you full permission to lay into me, cuss me out, whatever. i would've deserved it. you don't deserve that.”
“i wanted to, trust me.” you sigh. “but you're too nice to me. i thought…” you chew on your lip, eyes searching his as you try to figure out what to say. “…i don't know what i was thinking.”
“i don't think i'm anywhere near ‘too nice’,” hansol laughs. the sincerity in his expression almost makes you feel better. “i'm the luckiest dude on the planet that you didn't decide to, like, slash the tires on my car and egg my house or something instead. i really wouldn't have blamed you if you did.”
“maybe i should then, next time,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face.
he shakes his head. “there won't be a next time.”
the room goes quiet and you stare at each other for a second, letting his words sink in. you can tell he's being lighthearted, but he's not even trying to hide the sincerity behind his words.
“you can… continue now,” you say after a tense moment, breaking the silence. the tension in the room is thick but it's not uncomfortable, slowly but surely melting into a lust that's deeper than any of the times you've been drunk and horny in his car.
he nods, and he reaches down to brush your hair back behind your ear before his hands slide down your body. he seems so hesitant to let go of you, but finally he lifts one hand to grip his cock and position himself at your entrance. he braces his other hand against your hip, shivering as he brushes the tip of his cock up through your folds. fuck, he's not gonna last.
after steeling his nerves as best he can and trying to convince himself not to bust the second he's inside you, he angles himself between your legs and starts to push in.
by some miracle he manages not to cum immediately, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think about literally anything else but how fucking beautiful you are lying beneath him, but what actually happens instead might be worse.
hansol groans once he's fully inside, slowly splitting you open bit by bit until he bottoms out with his hips flush against yours. there are so many words on his tongue begging to spill out, but he can't think straight. holy shit, he can't even think about anything right now. why did he never say anything sooner? why did he waste so much time content with putting in the least amount of effort when he could've been having you like this all along?
“i love you,” he blurts out, and for a split second you think maybe this is all a dream and somehow you passed out at the show and hit your head so hard you started hallucinating this. but then his eyes widen and he winces in that way you've started to recognize, and you almost laugh because now you know it's real.
“shit, i don't know why i said that. i'm sorry. fuck, i'm sorry,” he groans and hangs his head, but despite his embarrassment you can still feel every inch of his dick twitching inside you and it feels way too good to ignore. “you don't have to say it back. i know it's way too soon—”
“did you mean it?”
“what?”
“did you mean it?” you repeat. his attention pulls back to you, a confused yet hopeful look in his eyes that makes your heart warm.
he clears his throat, obviously trying to hide the pink spreading across his cheeks. “yeah. i think i did. and not just because you have the best pussy ever.”
“are you sure? because that's what it sounds like to me,” you tease and try to roll your eyes, but his words make you clench involuntarily around him and he curses under his breath.
“fuck— yes, i’m very sure, i meant it and i'll keep saying it forever if you'll let me.” he lets out a groan, both hands now firmly planted on your waist. “but, god, please let me fuck you now. i'm trying so goddamn hard to hold back and i'll gladly go for another round later but i'm trying to make it up to you right now and it's gonna completely ruin it if i cum in, like, five seconds.”
you can't help your laughter in that moment so all you can do is nod, lifting your hips a little to try and get him going. and he takes the hint, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in, a loud, deep string of groans leaving his lips.
his pace starts out frantic but he quickly calms himself down, stabilizing himself through his grip on your waist and pulling you to meet his thrusts. he snaps his hips into you at a smooth pace, his cock dragging against your walls with each stroke in a way that has you clawing at his wrists for support as he holds onto you.
hansol may be bad at relationships, but he's never been bad at sex. even on a good day it really doesn't take much to have you seeing stars, but this is different. this is desperate, determined, thankful, and hopeful all wrapped into one movement, sliding in and out of you with a passion you've only ever seen when he's playing guitar.
“ha— ngh— hansol!” despite your efforts to keep it steady, your voice still comes out broken, his name escaping your lips as easily as breathing. you roll your head back against the pillow, and you're suddenly even more grateful that you're at home in your bed instead of alone in a parking lot. this is so much better, better than you could've dreamed.
“fuck, you always take my cock so good,” hansol groans as he leans forward and buries his face in your chest. “i should’ve been telling you that every single time, how good you are. so fucking good.”
the way he fucks you is strangely tender, in a way you're not sure you've ever felt before. it's rough, but somehow in a gentle way. he's taking you apart piece by piece and putting you back together with his hands, his kisses, his touch. none of the times before have ever come close to this.
maybe it's the feeling of a mattress beneath your back instead of a hard plastic seat, or maybe it's the promises hanging in the air between you that makes this time feel brand new. maybe you're just too caught up in the moment to think straight, but for the first time it finally feels like a fresh start. this time is different.
“baby, please, one more for me,” he moans into your skin as his hips begin to grow weary, his breath hot against your chest. “‘m not gonna last much longer— fuck, cum for me one more time, baby. god, you're so perfect. please, let me make you cum.”
at this point he's rambling, almost as far gone as you are, but it's like he doesn't even need to ask. as soon as the words leave his mouth you feel the familiar sensation starting to build again, burning hotter and quicker than before. you almost start to panic because you can't even tell if you have another one left in you, but you look up and meet his eyes one last time and suddenly a wave of calm washes over you at the sight of his soft brown eyes filled with way more love than you're expecting to find there.
you don't even have time to tell him when it hits you one more time, you just grab him and hang on tight as your high tears through you. you struggle to lift your legs and wrap them around his back, pulling him in even closer to you as your walls flutter uncontrollably around him. he invades your senses and you can feel him everywhere, and you can only hope he feels the way you do.
but it's obvious that he does, because “ah, shit—” is the last thing you hear before he pulls out, barely managing to get back in time before he spills all over your stomach, your thighs, your pussy, the sheets. it's everywhere, and neither of you care. his hands are still on you gripping your waist tightly like he can't bear to let go, his cock pulsing limply as it rests against your stomach. rope after rope of thick white floods over your skin, and yet it's like he barely even notices because he's so busy repeating your name, praising you again and again in between swears and shaky moans.
you're panting, your hands shaking as you reach for him, but he's already right there. he's breathing heavily himself as he drops down on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his head in the crook of your neck.
his weight half leaning against you is grounding, and eventually you feel your heart starting to return to normal as you become aware of the sticky puddle of sweat and cum that you're both laying in. but you just close your eyes and rest, focusing on his body warmth and his palm holding your side and the tickle of air coming from his nose as he breathes against you, and you realize nothing, no feeling in the world, has ever felt better than this.
when he reluctantly pulls himself away from your body to go look for a towel, you already know there's no question about whether or not he's staying over tonight.
once he's done cleaning you off he lifts you up into his arms, laughing and nuzzling his nose into your neck as he sets you down at your desk chair to start stripping the mess of sheets off your bed, and in that moment you can't help but think how lucky you are. he keeps saying that he's the lucky one for letting him have a second chance, but you're lucky in a lot of ways, too. lucky that it turned out he wasn't as much of an idiot as you’d thought. lucky that your heart wouldn't let you give up on him, no matter how hard you tried. lucky that after everything, hope still works sometimes.
after stumbling around your room, tossing blankets and sheets around and looking the happiest you've ever seen him, you're finally settled down together and you're back where you've always belonged, laying in his arms. it's so late that the sun is probably coming up soon and you're exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a night, but you couldn't care less about what happens next because everything finally feels right.
hansol sighs, his arm curled a little awkwardly around your shoulders as he twirls a lock of your hair between his fingers. “can… we not do this anymore?” he asks finally.
his voice is quiet; not shy or uncertain, just quiet. it's different than what you're used to with him. usually when you're around him everything is loud, it's fast and messy and jumbled, a whirlwind of a night followed by heartache and a pounding headache in the morning. but now he's just… quiet. all the thoughts that normally rush through your head are gone, leaving nothing but silence.
you swallow, confused. although you've already talked out all your worries, you can't help the uncertain feeling that starts to return. “what do you mean? like, right now?”
he exhales like he's thinking, and his fingers pause in your hair. “like… i don't know. i want things to be good between us. whatever we were doing before— anything but that. no more not talking about stuff. no more tension. y'know? i promise.”
“mmm.” you hum, letting his words sink in for a while. you drum your fingers absently against his chest, almost trying to make sure he's still there. “yeah. i think… i think things are good between us now.” you giggle, leaning your head against his chest. “as long as you don't pull that shit again.”
he laughs, reaching up to grab your hand off his chest and hold it there. “oh, yeah, i know. you're way too good to me for even giving me another chance. i'm so sorry i almost fucked it all up.”
“you don't have to say that anymore.”
“well like i said, babe, i'm going to—”
“you can just keep saying ‘i love you’ instead.” you interrupt, squeezing his hand in yours.
he stops short in the middle of his sentence, caught in surprise, but as soon as your words register a grin slowly begins to make its way across his face. “cool. then… i love you.”
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In Front of Me (Teaser)
⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriend to lovers, angst, smut (18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: TBA (this teaser: 679) ⊹ release date: TBA
⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time. ⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, bestfriends to lovers (?), unrequted love, emotionaly stunted charcters, wonwoo has a bit of an ego, toxic!wonwoo&reader. (more tags and smut tag added to full fic when posted.) ⊹ note: im really excited to share this with you all. its not by any means done but heres a teaser for now since ive been away for so long ♡ also the teaser is not edited so pls just ignore if theres typos hehe. lov u all pls come into my ask box cuz i refuse to shut up abt this story :p.
⊹ masterlist, taglist, fic playlist.
Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo.
Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the break up, to lose feelings first, every decision was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling.
Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up to your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been.
Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his bestfriend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it.
{໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙}
Less than fourty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence is perfectly normal, then maybe, you would eventually end up answering him.
12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?
Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them?
1:27 p.m. [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁
Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond.
2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u. [1 photo attachment]
Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.
4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today?
The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he had witnessed.
4:30 p.m. [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw.
Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin of all people solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back.
Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he can keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.
⊹ a/n: if u want to be apart of the taglist please fill out the form, comment or send an ask! please note that i'll only add those who have an age indicator somewhere in their blog! thank you ♡
#jeon wonwoo#svthub#thediamondlifenetwork#Hiraya-M#seventeen smut#seventeen fic#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fic#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#wonwoo fanfic#svt fic#svt smut#svt scenarios#seventeen scenarios#seventeen wonwoo#seventeen drabbles#seventeen x reader#wonwoo x reader#seventeen x you#svt x you#wonwoo x you#wonustars ✧ ゚. {fics: in front of me}
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I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (making out - I know, finally) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 23.5k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even.
Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether.
But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames.
“I—” he mumbles.
“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”
You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try.
But the thought doesn’t last long.
You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight.
Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you.
But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him.
You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.
Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.
The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table.
This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well.
But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.
His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it.
You sigh to yourself. He’ll live.
You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible.
“___.”
“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”
“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.
You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in.
Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him.
But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit.
Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay.
You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that.
Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go.
You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.
You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.
“___.”
“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.
“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”
“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”
He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.
You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.
Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.
“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.
“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly.
He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.
“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading.
You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic.
“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.
“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”
You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you.
Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.
“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”
“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.
“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”
“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”
Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him.
Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around.
He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you.
He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.
Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.
But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.
He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.
“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”
“That’s noted, sir.”
Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.
He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.
“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”
“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.
“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”
“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”
“What?”
“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”
Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.
Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough.
He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.
Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.
As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely.
The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.
At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that.
Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through.
Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much.
You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces.
“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.
“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”
“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.
“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”
You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.
“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”
“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.”
The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”
“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”
Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.
“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”
You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.
“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”
“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”
Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you.
As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.
You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back.
But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.
“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”
“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”
“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”
“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.
You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”
The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart.
You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last.
There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.
All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful.
“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”
“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”
“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”
“And?” He asks in anticipation.
“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”
“There really is,” Namjoon nods.
His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize.
Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice.
“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”
“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.
“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”
“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”
“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”
“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”
“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”
It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks.
The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for.
You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to.
Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.
“I’m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”
It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time.
You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day.
After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you.
What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is?
You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.
Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.
Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him.
That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish.
During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him.
You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there.
But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more.
Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind.
But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you.
Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse.
“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”
“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks.
“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”
“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror.
You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building.
The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already.
“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”
“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.
“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.
But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear.
He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours.
His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all.
He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything.
It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.
He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place.
You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did.
But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.
Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too.
And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all.
But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it.
You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end.
The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table.
There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.
“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”
“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”
You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod.
“Okay,” you say softly.
“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”
“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”
“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”
Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.
“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”
You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks.
“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”
“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”
“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”
“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration.
But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.
“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”
“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”
“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”
“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”
You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.
“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”
Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed.
Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe.
He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place.
Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.
It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing.
But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away?
The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.
The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.
“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.
He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.
“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”
It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again.
Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.
And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.
He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same.
It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.
The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.
But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.
“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away.
“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”
“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.
It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.
“I was rushing,” he explains.
You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work.
It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible.
You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after.
Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.
Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.
“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?”
His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.
You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.
Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out.
“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”
Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.
“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”
“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.
“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”
As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”
“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.
But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.
Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour.
He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.
“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.
“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”
His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected.
“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.
“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him.
But still, you don’t.
“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”
“You haven’t looked at me all week.”
As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.
“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.
So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad.
“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.
You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod.
“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.
“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”
“How do you know that?” He interjects.
“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”
“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you.
“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”
“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”
You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing.
“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout.
“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”
“Neither am I.”
Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race.
He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more.
“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.
“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty.
“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”
“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”
You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.
“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.
Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you.
“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly.
The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides.
“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.
He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away.
“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”
You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours.
He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.
You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table.
He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk.
Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.
Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned.
This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything.
But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.
“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”
You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now.
His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.
“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.”
“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.
“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”
The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you.
He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.
“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”
“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do.
He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to.
“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”
Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought.
You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference.
“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.”
His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do.
“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”
This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him.
He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.
“___, please. I just want to be with you.”
It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.
Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”
With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again.
Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle.
He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.
You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier.
You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.
It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened.
You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you.
And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away.
Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him.
Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around.
You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye.
You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted.
You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life.
Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you.
You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy.
He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.
Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again.
It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you.
You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.
He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.
They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you.
You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did.
You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered?
Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes.
He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay.
He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor.
This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.
He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go.
Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around.
He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too.
His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away.
The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it.
At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.
Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered.
“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.
It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today.
Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.
They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.
With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.
“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.
“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake.
“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”
“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?”
“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea.
“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”
“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”
Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.
“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”
“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”
“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”
“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean.
He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.
“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”
You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from.
You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.
Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder.
You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to.
So you give Mr. Ri permission.
“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”
Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now.
“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”
“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.
“I did. She also told me what happened.”
“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”
Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.
“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”
“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”
“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”
“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”
“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”
The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.
But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.
“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”
It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?
“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.
“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”
Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life.
The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time.
Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before.
“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”
“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”
“She— what?”
Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years.
“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”
“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.”
“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”
The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other.
“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”
She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there.
“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”
As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks.
“Did… did he hurt them?”
“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”
Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree.
“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times.
“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”
The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran. The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.”
Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”
Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own.
But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.
“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe.
“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”
“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.
“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”
“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying.
“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.
“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”
Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you.
“Did she know? And did she love you back?”
“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders.
“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”
“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.
“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”
It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.
“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.
“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”
“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”
“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”
“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father.
“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”
At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”
“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable.
And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?
It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?
The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way.
He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too.
“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”
“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”
“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”
“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”
Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride.
The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him.
“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.
“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”
“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”
“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”
Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.
They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.
His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years.
The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.
It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone.
“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”
“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks.
“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”
“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”
“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”
The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.
“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”
“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”
“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.
“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.
“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well.
“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”
“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”
“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”
There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on.
“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”
Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind.
Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.
There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.
Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.
He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.
He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life.
You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too.
You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now.
But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well.
Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you.
It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well.
You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most.
Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.
“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”
You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come.
But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.
“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”
“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”
“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”
The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.
“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”
You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes.
“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.
“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”
“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.
“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?”
There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.
You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way.
He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.
You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him.
He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.
But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.
You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away.
You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place.
Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all.
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that's okay
PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader
TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr
SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?
WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+
AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!
PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.
WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.
You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love. “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.
You were wrong.
You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.
“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!”
“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.
“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”
“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”
“No thank you.”
Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”
The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones.
But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too.
Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.
“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”
He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”
“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”
“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.
“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”
Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.
You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.
Right?
Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.
You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.
“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.
Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.
“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”
“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.
“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.
“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”
“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”
You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…
To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”
Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?
While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.
That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.
In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands.
And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.
“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.”
“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.
And that’s when you realize it.
Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.
Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.
When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin.
When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.
You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.
You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.
“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”
“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”
“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”
“Both.”
His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”
A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.
“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”
Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”
“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”
You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.
He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”
You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”
“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”
You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.
“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
“For what?”
“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”
Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”
Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”
You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.
“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”
“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?
“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”
His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”
He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.
For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.
When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.
Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.
“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.
“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.
“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”
Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”
“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.”
He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”
You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?
Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.
“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.
“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.
“I was just—”
“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.
“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”
Before you could finish, he grabbed it.
“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.
You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?
As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.
“Here.”
You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.
“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”
“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.
Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”
“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.
You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”
“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”
Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”
“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.
“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.
He smiled softly. “You already are.”
For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.
Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.
You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.
“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”
You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”
Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”
His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.
“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”
Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.
You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”
He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”
The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.
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I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE
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⭒pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader.
⭒wc: 4.8k
⭒warnings: SEX (MINORS DNI), continuation of the porn!au, characters are aged up to 21+, reader is not of a certain skin color, use of names like ‘bunny,’ daddy kink, spanking with belt, live camming, mentions of; onlyfans, pegging, plugs, fingering (f! receiving), cunnilingus, slight breath play, small part of m! receiving oral, degrading, if I forgot anything I will update this later on!
⭒author’s note: y’all the amount of times I had to change the fake usernames to not accidentally tag someone is crazy. will scream, cry, and throw up if I still somehow managed to.
part one.
“you still wanna go through with it?”
“fuck yeah. show that fucker what he’s missing with us.”
it’d been a few months since you and katsuki had professionally filmed together for the first time. watching the opportunity for a decent cash flow get even bigger after more and more sick bastards wanted to see the two of you together. becoming a little more than professional acquaintances as you filmed together more and more.
it felt like the two of you could only keep growing until that douchebag that calls himself a director publicly shit on both of your names. calling the two of you ‘unprofessional’ and a slew of other names, even going as far to say he could’ve ‘done it without the both of you’ whilst he basked in the glory of his first successful porno. your ranks and ratings didn’t drop that much, but it was enough to piss the two of you off.
so now here the pair of you are, about to prove to that dickhead director that you didn’t need him, he needed you.
“it’s just been a while since i’ve cammed live. I feel like i’m back at the beginning again.”
“i bet. we’ve all come a long way though.” he stood up from where he was sat at the laptop perched upon your desk, angled towards the chaise lounge in your room. everything was set and ready with a timer counting down from five minutes. for some reason you were nervous about camming again.
maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t done so in so long.
or maybe it was that you didn’t know what the hulking blond standing over you had in store.
“we still have four and a half minutes left,” he rough hand stroked your soft cheek, “wanna let me get a little taste before you start, bunny?” his free hand cupped your cunt covered with white lace.
“nuh-uh. don’t spoil yourself now or you’ll have nothing left in you in a few.” you pushed him off and walked over to where the laptop was set up to check the countdown once more. making sure to shimmy your hips as you walked to show off your cute ass to him.
he already felt quite feral just looking at you. body clad in skimpy, white lingerie with cute little bunny ears on your head and a cotton tail attached the the back of your thong. the thigh-high socks squeezed the fat of your thighs so perfectly his cock was already straining against his jeans.
“have it your way, princess, but remember who’s in charge today. no shitty scripts to follow, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” you didn’t know whether you should feel more aroused or terrified at the thought. you’ve seen his videos from when he was amateur. unscripted, he was ruthless. fucking whoever was with him in the most insane, body-contorting positions, having them drool all over themselves. you weren’t ashamed to admit that you had touched yourself many times before to the sound of the filth that he spoke into the mic.
“it’s almost time, bunny. c’mere and sit with me.” he beckoned you over to the lounge with a wiggle of his index finger. he was shirtless with his chest lightly oiled. you eyed the way his pecs and stomach glistened under the light every time he shifted. he switched out his jeans and boxers to just a pair of grey sweats with nothing underneath. you loved the way his trail of wispy, blond hairs started just below his naval and disappeared below the waistband.
he had you sitting with your back to his chest. he held you tightly, already copping a feel on your chest. kneading and pinching the fat of your breasts. he had your legs placed over his spread ones, making you completely open for the camera. your little thong barely covered a thing and was getting eaten by your lips. he used his other hand to slide down your body and gently rub your clit over the cloth.
you almost forgot what you were about to be doing until you heard the familiar pinging sound from money being sent in. this little cam show was pretty well advertised on both of your socials and even by some of your friends in the industry, so it was really not surprise that people were already sending tips in. you soon heard bakugo pipe up. his voice moderately loud so the microphone could pick it up.
“awh, bunny, hear all those horny bastards that already are spendin’ shit on you? we’ve barely done anything yet” you quickly nodded your head, wiggling your hips to try and get his hand to move faster.
“where are your fuckin’ manners?” he took the hand that was kneading your tits and brought it up to your neck, fastening his thick fingers around and lightly squeezing. you let out a small ‘thank you’ which you thought wouldn’t be enough. thankfully, bakugo had mercy right now.
he kept toying with your cunt, continuously growing wetter and wetter. your arousal now seeping through your thong and spreading onto your plush thighs. also dripping down onto bakugo, leaving a wet patch on his pants.
“already makin’ such a mess. you want it bad, don’t you?” he lightly slapped your already sensitive clit, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and do your core.
“yes. so bad.” you felt like a virgin that couldn’t make a complete sentence and your cheeks started to burn. it was kind of hard to feel embarrassed when you’re in your industry, but the way he toyed with you flipped a switch inside.
“yes what?” he stopped touching you and roughly pinched your nipples, eliciting and piercing whine from you.
“yes daddy.” his cock twitched beneath you at the sound of your voice.
“good fuckin’ girl. why don’t you turn around and show them the pretty little ass of yours?” he unhooked your legs from his and brought them together so you could stand. you slowly got up, making sure to not lose your footing since your legs already felt like jelly. you heard the pinging start up again when you turned around and bent over slightly, wiggling your hips back and forth causing your ass to shake.
“come sit back down on me. daddy’s gonna play with you too, yeah?” you straddled his still-spread legs and his hands instantly found place on the fat of your ass. kneading, pulling, and squeezing every inch. you could feel his hard-on pressing right against your clit and you dared to start grinding down on him. because of that action, you were met with a harsh slap to your ass.
“who the fuck said you could grind on me? needy fuckin’ slut.” he roughly slapped your ass again and tips started to roll in at the sight of the bright red hand prints now adorning your backside.
“oh fuck, think these bastards are gettin’ off to the sight of you gettin’ punished, huh? who wants to see some more?” he was wearing the charming smirk on his face as he soothed the burning, red spots with his hands. rubbing circles on you and tilting his head to kiss and nip at your neck. the pinging sound that rolled in again signified that people did want to see more.
“alright, little bunny, all fours f’me.” you rolled off of him as he stood up, the obvious tent in his pants making your mouth water. he sauntered his way behind the lounge as you got in position. you could see out of the corner of your eye that he had picked up the belt he was wearing half an hour ago, striking the sides of the belt together to make a loud slapping sound as he approached you once more.
you felt his hands run over the spot where your lower back curved as the fabric of the lounge dipped down behind you. he caressed your smooth skin for a few moments more before he spoke up again.
“you’re gonna take ten of these yeah?” he leaned down and gripped the sides of your chin, turning your head to look towards him and the camera. “and you’re gonna count, lose your place and we start over. don’t fuck up and you get a reward. got that?” you furiously nodded your head and he cocked a warning brow at you. he let go of the death grip he had on your chin and lightly patted your cheek two or three times. you heard the leather of his belt slap against itself one more time before it was striking you.
your legs and cunt were both quivering as he delivered each blow to your sensitive skin. every strike was met with more pinging sounds as money was sent you way. your ass was covered in red spots and sore to the touch. he wasn’t entirely a monster, though, rubbing each area he hit with the palm of his hand after you struck you. despite the challenge, you didn’t lose your place and even thanked him afterwards. after the tenth was delivered, he pressed his soft lips to the spots most red and placed feather like kisses on you.
“so good f’me. so fuckin’ good f’me. daddy’ll give you what you want.” and with that he pushed your panties to the side and plunged two of his thick fingers in your wet heat. rapid fire fingering your aching pussy as he used his free hand to continue soothing the hot spots left on your ass from his belt.
the sight of your cute tears leaving mascara tracks down your pretty face in the screen of the laptop was enough to make him want to bust in his pants. the moans and whimpers that left your parted lips sounded so sweet, delicious even. and the feeling of your slick running down his middle and index finger was enough to make him lean down to lick your juices from the source as he replaced his fingers with his long tongue. his fingers found purchase again on your swollen clit, aching to be touched and he tongue-fucked you.
his movements were skillful. rubbing circles on your clit in a way the stimulated your nerves in just the right way. he worked his tongue oh so perfectly inside you, causing you to writhe under he touch. his free hand fisting at the fat of your ass.
he could tell that you were getting close by your moans increasing in volume and the way your pussy fluttered and clenched around his tongue. the pinging sound had slowed, pissing him off a bit.
“you wanna see this slut cum? pay the fuck up. we’re not doin’ this shit for free.” you whined when he pulled away from you, getting whatever the female equivalent of blue balls was. you dropped your top half down to the lounge, just leaving your ass in the air. you wiggled it a bit for the camera and for the blond staring at you through the laptop screen.
“shit, 15,000¥? these motherfuckers really are desperate. 20,000¥ and i’ll make this slutty bunny squirt.” he lightly ghosted his fingers over your pussy before deciding he wanted your panties that were still pushed to the side off. the strength of the explosive blond before you made you gush another bout of wetness as he tore them at the hips and pulled them off. even though you were desperate, you quietly whines at the loss. you really liked this lingerie set.
“oi, heard that shit. quit your bratty bitchin’ or you won’t cum until I do.” at that, he looked to the laptop and saw that someone had sent in the amount he requested and smirked.
“make sure to say ‘thank you.’” he dived back in your pussy, one hand on your clit, two fingers back in your cunt, and using his tongue to drink up any of your dripping slick. it wasn’t long before you felt that familiar pressure in your stomach and your hole started to twitch. shit, you were right there.
“oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck thank you.. fuck.” your speech was slurred and words were jumbled together as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. he growled at the way your cunt gushed for him and all over him, drinking up as much as he could.
“shit, that’s my good fuckin’ girl. stand up f’me and show them your drenched pussy.” you did as he said, already feeling so fucked out to disobey. he held you by your hips as you stood, steadying your balance. using one of his big hands to spread your cheeks apart to show off your fucked hole, groaning at your reflection in the camera.
“d’you bastards miss when she was a cam slut? because i sure fuckin’ do.” he rubbed the side of your hip and ass as he pressed little kisses to your skin. it wasn’t long before the chat was beginning him to take his dick out and for you to take your bra off.
“awww. they want you to get naked too.” you teased, ruffling his blond hair.
“‘m sure they just want my cock out because that means i’m closer to destroying your insides.” he teased right back at you, softly smacking your backside.
you felt gracious about him giving you a little breather. you loved your work, loved making people feel good, but you hated how everything was go, go, go once the camera started rolling. sometimes having to just stay in bed the next day so the poor spot between your legs could take a break. when you felt ready, you tapped his shoulder and gave him a quick nod when he looked up.
you straddled his lap once more and pawed at his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. you just wanted him to stuff you full and you were willing to act out to get it.
“needy little whore arentcha? not fuckin’ you yet. on your knees.” he patted your face once more and got up with you to get you closer to the camera. only his lower half was in view, but your face and still-covered chest was on full display. you were visibly excited when he tugged his sweatpants down enough to free his rock hard dick. taking it into his hand and pumping it a few times before slapping your cheek with it.
“be a good bunny and open wide f’me.” as soon as you did so, he was shoving his cock in your mouth. fucking your face for true audience you’d garnered. you thought all you’d be getting was a rough face-fucking until he pushed his length all the way in. the tip of your nose was touching his groomed, blond hairs that grew from his pelvis. tears once again started to stream down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe through your nose.
“you want this bitch to breathe? 5,000¥. simple enough? ‘m lowballin’ because the slut seems desperate already.” he punctuated his last few syllables by lightly thrusting back and forth in your mouth. it still wasn’t enough for you to get a deep breath, but enough for you to not pass out.
as he looked at the screen, a specific ping of a donation caught his attention.
105,000¥ - fuck her now.
he pulled out and leaned down to where his face was in view. he gave you a moment to sputter and catch your breath before he was gripping you by the jaw to look at the camera.
“see how much they wanna pay for that sloppy cunt? whad’dya think?”
“mmmm, 20,000¥ more. my pussy’s worth it.”
“you fuckin’ heard her, pay up, bastards. or i’ll just fuck her off camera.” he finished his last word with another slap to your ass. his rough hand still had you by the jaw as he showed off your messy face. makeup smeared and mascara stains running down your hot cheeks. you smiled into the camera when you saw the notification come up that someone had sent the remaining amount of money.
“thank you, baby. bet you wish it was you here and not him. you’d treat me nice, right?” bakugo’s gaze bore into the side of your head as he listened to you flirt with whoever threw money your way. anything word you spoke that sounded remotely suggestive was like a buzzword for more tips to roll in. “mmm you want him to take my bra off? you’d better ask him nicely.”
he fixated his gaze off of you and onto the comments rolling in in the monitor. another 10,000¥ rolling in with the nice request that he strip you some more.
“you bastards are so fuckin’ desperate. bet you’re all touchin’ yourselves right now. waiting for her tits to be out before you bust.” he was standing behind you, unhooking the clasps on your bra and letting it drop to the floor. you were fully exposed for the camera now. the only thing remaining from your costume lingerie were your sheer thigh-highs and the bunny ears atop your head.
he reached around you tweak your hard nipples and play with the fat of your breasts, eliciting little moans from you.
“so fuckin’ pretty. she’s a pretty, pretty girl isn’t she?” his hand traveled down to your pussy and he ran a finger through the slit to assess if he needed to prep you or not. you were practically still dripping from earlier, slick running out of your needy cunt and spreading onto the insides of your thighs.
“time to make their money’s worth, bunny. ride my fuckin’ cock.” he sat back down onto the chaise lounge and beckoned you over with the curl of his index finger. the sight of him comfortably sprawled out with his sweatpants just lazily pulled down enough for his cock to be out made the ache between your legs throb even more.
“d’ya bitches wanna see her ass or tits bounce?” he kept you from sitting, rubbing up and down the side of your hips as his eyes focused in on the chat. responses were mixed with people who wanted to see either. a few comments sprinkled in about yours or his looks.
“looks like they can’t decide, we’ll do both.” he pulled you towards him and you straddled his lap in regular cowgirl. he rubbed the tip of his angry, red cock up and down your soaked slit. the look in his eyes was enough to make you gush another wave of arousal as he slowly eased in you. the stretch of him was welcomed by your warm walls and he bottomed out rather quickly from how horny you were. his tip lightly brushed your cervix, marking you squirm above him. he grabbed your hips and you kept an agonizingly slow pace.
“if you want him to split me open, i’m gonna need a little more from you, babies.” you looked over your shoulder and winked. your reflection in the screen was pretty, beautiful even. one of his hands was lazily placed on your hip and the other placed behind his head. the sight of him slowly disappearing and appearing again was a spectacular sight to see. the way his heavy balls lightly slapped your ass was heavenly and the taut muscles flexed on his spread thighs was probably enough to make someone cream in their pants.
the pinging had begun once again and you increased your pace each time a donation came through. he eventually was gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to thrust into you, hard and fast. your moans were already pornographically loud when you were at a slow pace, but now they filled the room with the sound of skin slapping skin.
“shit bunny, this cunt is so fuckin’ good. i can’t wait for you to make a mess on this dick.” you clenched down on him every time he spoke the filth that had gotten you off so many times before. your legs were beginning to tremble and your pussy was twitching in a way that told him you were close, right there even.
“fuck yes. cum on my cock.. ride that shit. show them how much of a dirty fuckin’ slut you are f’me.” his words coupled with his rough thrusts to punctuate the syllables sent you over the edge. your stomach felt white-hot as you creamed on him. he removed the hand from behind his head to spread your pussy lips and watch the glistening arousal flood his dick. the ring of your cum gathered on the base. that and your tits knocking together in his face made him slow himself to keep him from cumming too.
“hope y’got another one in ya. turn the fuck around and sit again.” you quickly got up and whined at the loss. katsuki growled at the sight of your hole already gaping for him.
you let out another whine of pleasure as you sat back on his cock again. your knees and shins were placed on both sides of his thighs and his arms were wrapped around the front of you to play with your tits as he started thrusting again.
he was rougher this time, removing one of his hands from your chest to move back down to your hip to keep you close to him. his feet were firmly planted in the carpet below you to keep up his pace without fault.
“play with your tits, sweets. show them how horny you are for daddy.”
“shit.. i love when daddy fills me up… fuck fuck fuck.” you brought your hands up to your chest to play with yourself and he brought his now-free hand to toy with your swollen clit. you loudly whimpered at the sensitivity when he was touching and fucking you at the same time.
“i feel you clenchin’ my shit. already gonna cum again? you really are a desperate slut for the camera.” he started slamming his hips into yours harder and you began to bounce at a pace that met his thrusts. he felt impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy squelched and gushed around him. he was now focused on your reflection in the screen. his eyes moved back and forth from the monitor to the real you. he loved being able to see your expressions whilst also being able to watch the way your peachy ass rippled and bounce as you met his rough thrusts.
“tell me.. fuck.. tell me how bad you want it.”
“daddy please I want it to badly. I need to cum and I need to be filled with yours.”
“oh, slutty bunny wants me to breed ‘er, that’s it, yeah?” you whimpered and nodded your head as he began to thrust even harder and deeper. hitting that special spot inside you that made your whole body feel like it was on fire. the crescendo of your moans and your pussy once again tightening on him told him you were almost over the edge, he was glad because he didn’t think he’d last much longer with the sight to behold in front of him.
after a few more rough thrusts and his cock dragging against your g-spot, you were once again coating the man in your release. squirting once again as he continued to ride you through your orgasm. your juices slid down his muscular thighs and onto the fabric below the both of you. you heard his growls get louder as he used your body to chase his own high. practically losing himself at the sight the clear liquid spewing from you.
“fuck bunny, y’gonna let me cum in you? fuck i’m gonna fill you up.”
a little ‘please’ was all you could get from your lips as your spent brain wasn’t thinking too clearly. he gripped your sore hips one last good time before he was spilling the contents from his balls into your overused hole.
“‘m cummin’.. fuck baby, god you feel so fuckin’ good when i’m flooding this pussy.” your body shivered as his words and the shallow thrusts he continued to pump into you. you felt impossibly empty when he slowed and lifted you off of him. that feeling soon being subdued by his thick, calloused finger tips collecting the cum that had leaked out and pushing it back into your cunt.
“know you’re fucked out, but bend over ‘n show them how pretty that pussy looks filled with my cum.” although tired, you gladly obeyed his request. standing up on wobbly legs to turn around and bend over like you’d done earlier, holding onto the edge of the lounge for stabilization.
“mmm, bet you guys wish this was yours stuffed in there, yeah?” you giggled and waved your ass back and forth as the pinging increased for a final time. katsuki grabbing your face and showing the audience how debauched and fucked out he had made you. you finished off the stream with a flirty ‘goodbye babies’ and a seductive wink before covering the camera with your hand and ending the stream.
you both watched the screen go black and light up again as the total revenue flashed across the screen. both of your eyes widened as you saw the number. you both expected into six fugures, you didn’t expect to be that well into six figures. it was more money made in a single stream than the two of you would made from a few pornos. the two of you decided the split the money equally as it made the most sense and was only fair.
the screen blackened again, this time the transcript of the comments lit up the screen. you decided to sit and read whilst the blond got up to redress.
“hey kats, they want me to peg you!” you say in front of the laptop, still naked as the day you were born minus the thigh-highs, and read through the comments. a lot of them complimenting the pair of you or offering you guys money for sex. sometimes you came across comments that made you audibly laugh, this being one of those moments.
“fat chance. most that’s been in my ass is a plug.”
“I could change that.” you wiggled a brow at him and he dramatically rolled his eyes. he stood in the corner of your room and you watched him tug a white compression shirt on.
“adventurous thing, arentcha?”
“adventurous is my middle name.”
“yeah, okay dumbass.” it was your turn to rolls your eyes as you went to your twitter to tweet about the success of the stream, definitely showing up the director that dared trash yours and bakugo’s names. after tweeting, you decided to scroll your feed a bit to see if anyone had said anything yet. if the money you guys make didn’t show the success of the stream, the slew of people tweeting about it sure did.
@better-luxe-next-time: made more in one stream with @.officialdynamight than that slimeball has made in his whole career <3
@.officialdynamight: wanna see my POV with @better-luxe-next-time? unlock the videos on my onlyfans @.dynamight.
@.alien.queen.pinky: wettest i’ve ever been from watching a stream. 3some? @better-luxe-next-time @.officialdynamight
@bigredriot: I couldn’t tell who I wanted more 😫
@chargeboltt: she could step on me and i’d say thank you!
@chakoraka i’d kill an elderly woman to be sandwiched between them.
@sticky-sero: not even gay but i’d suck his ween ngl
you smiled at the tweets your fellow stars had posted. it some sick, weird way it warmed your heart that they all had your backs and watched the stream to help you prove a point. you even noticed some of them donating their own money. the smile that grew on your face slowly drooped again once you saw another tweet posted 7 minutes ago from dynamight himself.
@.officialdynamight: 50 retweets and we’ll stream weekly. @better-luxe-next-time
“seriously, katsuki? 50 retweets?”
“i’ll take any excuse to get inside you. got the sweetest cunt i’ve ever fucked.” you took the bunny ears off and slid your stockings off your legs as he handed you his t-shirt. it fell right at your mid-thigh and swallowed your torso whole. “and trust me, i’ve fucked a lot.”
“me too, we’re in the same business, y’know,” you let out a light giggle at his exaggerated eye roll, “but yeah, best dick i’ve ever had.”
“so we can agree, one retweet?”
“sure, kats, one retweet.” his vermillion eyes darkened and his lips contorted into a cheshire cat-like smile as he opened his twitter app and turned the screen to face you. the tweet already have over 100 retweets and it’d only been up for 10 minutes.
“looks like you might wanna start getting comfy with me, bunny.”
part one.
#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo smut#my hero academia smut#bakugou smut#mha smut#bnha smut#katsuki smut#bnha bakugo smut#katsuki bakugou smut#bakugo smut#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#mha x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo#bakugo#bnha katsuki bakugou#bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#fleur bbyy
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the devil i know
chapter eight: back in hell at least it's comfortable
(repost)
fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist
pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: Rabbit Season Duck Season ft. your demon boyfriend who doesn't want you to google him.
cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking (no monstery stuff comes up but he is still a demon), blowjob, ball play, facial, making a deal with a demon (eddie's version), lover's spat but in the most hilarious way don't worry, sacrificial computer killed by fire, death mention, trauma, bullying mention, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat
please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
So. You’ve been at war with Eddie for two days now.
It started as a joke. You got curious– you didn’t really mean anything by it. Maybe you knew you were poking a hornet's nest, but you don’t recall him giving you any specific instructions not to. And what were the odds that this demon, in his wisdom, gave you his real, full name in a moment of crisis? What were the odds that you would actually find something about him?
You googled the name Eddie Munson.
At first, you did it on your phone, in bed, and your google search was limited to your IP address location. You got a ping for an Eddie Munson from one town over, who apparently bombed a car or something a few years back. The articles were bleak and didn’t include a lot of information. But otherwise, nothing from around Eastwick.
Then you widened your search parameters. Demons are supernatural, paranormal beings, right? Eddie said he used to be human, so you figured you should treat it like trying to find a ghost. And you didn’t know how old Eddie was– he could have lived at any point, from the last 60 years to the last 6,000 years. Although, for some reason you had a hard time picturing him living in 4,000 BCE.
You searched Eddie Munson folklore.
What are you doing?
You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice in your ear, locking your phone and throwing it across the bed. “Uhhh, nothing?”
Riiiight.
“What’re you– did I call you again?”
Yeah. You do it a lot, you know.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”
Mm. Go to sleep, sweetheart.
And you heard nothing about it. Until the next morning, when you unlocked your phone again and saw Eddie Munson folklore had brought up a few strange results.
Eddie Munson Serial Killer
Eddie Munson Satanic Panic
Eddie Munson Cult of Hawkins
You stared at the different search results with your morning coffee poised in the air, completely halted in place. You weighed your options, wondering what on earth you were going to find, should you click on any of them.
Was it really him? Was this even worth the effort and the possible janky links to a Subreddit you didn’t need to be scouring through?
You clicked on Eddie Munson Serial Killer, just to see what would come up, if there was a Wikipedia article with the guy’s face that you could honestly identify as Not Your Eddie.
And your phone died.
You scowled, and set down your coffee so that you could try turning it on again, but all you got was a dim low battery notification. Down by your knees, Dante whined and bumped his nose against your leg to get you to pay attention to him.
“Sorry, baby,” you cooed, shoving your phone onto a charger and forgetting about it. You stooped to scratch Dante behind the ears, and kissed him on his little hellhound head. “Let’s get you some food, yeah?”
You didn’t try again until much later, when you sat down with your computer in your living room. Now it was a little bit more serious, less of a joke. Even if this ‘Eddie Munson Serial Killer’ wasn’t your Eddie Munson, you’d never heard of the guy before. And you genuinely thought you were pretty checked out on various serial killers throughout history, with your penchant for true crime podcasts.
You picked at your nails for a moment, your hands hovering over the keyboard as you weighed your options. Then, you typed the words quickly into the search bar, and hit enter.
And your fucking computer glitched, blue screened, and died.
You stared at the black screen in front of you with a feeling of exasperation that bordered on irritation. You looked up, and made eye contact with Dante, laying on your floor in a patch of sunlight. The Rottweiler gazed back at you with eyes that glowed a little bit red in the sunlight, almost knowingly.
“Eddie, what the fuck is this about?” you asked the empty air.
No answer.
“Eddie?”
Radio silence. Dante yawned and rolled onto his side. The clock in the kitchen ticked on ominously. You waited for something– Eddie’s voice in your ear, or a footstep behind you, alerting you of his presence. Nothing came.
You stared into thin air, thinking over your options. You figured you could just be looking too deeply into things. You reached forward, and tried to turn your computer back on.
The screen popped once, like there was a power surge, and then the keyboard started smoking.
“Eddie!” you screeched, flinging the computer away from your lap. Flames burst from it just as it hit the floor. Dante leapt up and barked excitedly at it. “What kind of Looney Tunes bullshit–”
The burning computer’s screen blinked on, and from behind the crackling flames, a video started playing. Off-key, jazzy fanfare blasted from the burning speakers, sounding a bit screechy and tinny, and then Porky Pig appeared from within a red circle.
“That’s all, folks!”
“Oh, I see.” You chuckled, slowly nodding in indignation. “This is war, you little shit.”
So, that brings you here. The Eastwick Public Library is a tiny, one story unit in the town plaza’s main strip mall. Situated at the end of the building, it boasts a row of about fifteen bookshelves, half of which house the ‘religion’ genre, and maybe six computers. Seven, if you count the one behind the librarian’s desk.
You keep your head down as you log into one of the public access computers. It’s been ages since you set foot in the library, and you highly doubt any of your beloved neighbors would like to see you in here, looking up obscure serial killers. You can almost imagine their lack of surprise.
You type in your keyword search for a third time, and wait for the computer to spontaneously combust. It doesn’t. Instead, a few images pop up, followed by a Wikipedia article, followed by a few newspaper links.
It’s him. It’s your Eddie.
“Edward ‘Eddie’ Munson was an alleged American serial killer. He is the only known suspect of the Cunningham-Benson-Mckinney murders of Hawkins, Indiana in the Spring of 1986, and was presumed dead after the fatal 1986 Indiana Earthquake.”
The first image that shows up is obviously a yearbook photo– the typical blue background, a close up headshot of the grin that you know and love. The second photo is in black and white, a missing persons poster. And the third photo is yet another yearbook photo, but this time it’s a group shot. A bunch of teenage boys all lined up against a brick wall, under a banner that says Hellfire Club.
“No way,” you mutter incredulously, clicking on the photo and zooming in to find Eddie in the corner, sticking out his tongue and using his fingers to create a pair of devil horns over his head.
The link for the photo is for a yearbook pdf from Hawkins. The title of it reads HAWKINS HIGH DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS HELLFIRE CLUB, 1985-86.
You press your lips together, feeling yourself gearing up to grin. Quietly, and with the most affectionate tone of voice you have ever used in your life, you croon, “You were in a D&D club?”
One by one, each computer along the row you sit at pops and fizzles with sparks before shorting out. You pull your hands away, giggling and watching the sparks come down the line until they reach your computer, and then it goes dead.
And so does the rest of the power in the building.
You let out a blast of laughter, clapping your hands over your mouth while a group of teenage girls in the back corner scream bloody murder. The library has gone dark, and the cranky librarian at the front desk is simultaneously shushing the screaming girls and herding them out the door. You’re still giggling when you get up, and you have to hide the smile on your face when you duck past the librarian on your way out.
“Don’t.” Eddie materializes in your entryway when you get back home. Melting out of the woodwork, a shadow that forms into his pouting visage. He shakes his head at the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t say anything, I’ll–”
“What?” you ask him, tilting your head. You bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again; it had been so hard to stop your fit on the way home. He looks sheepishly away from you, a bright pink blush coloring his cheeks. “You’ll what, Eddie?”
He tries to look severe, but he can’t hide the smile beginning to wobble its way onto his lips. “I’ll Looney your Tunes so fucking hard–”
“You can’t Looney my Tunes motherfucker, I’ll Looney your Tunes.” You point an accusatory finger at him. “You owe me a goddamn computer!”
You’re not actually that mad about the computer, it was a piece of shit anyways. But Eddie surprises you by producing a new one from behind his back, and holds it out to you.
You give a placated hum as you take it from him. “So. That was you, huh?”
“No, it’s not– not technically–”
“Did you think I was gonna… gonna judge you, or something?”
Eddie doesn’t say anything in response, his eyes flicking from yours, to the computer in your hands, and back.
“You’re a demon. I made a deal with you, I sold my soul.” You screw up your face. “You’ve offered to kill someone for me like… what, three times now?”
Eddie sucks on his teeth and looks away.
“I think I’m past the point of judgment, honey.”
“It’s not that simple.” His brow furrows, and he chews on his bottom lip, stripping chapped skin from it with his teeth. “Believe me, I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t care, except that shit… the shit you read, that’s not the truth. I swear.”
“Then what is the truth?” You ask him mildly. “Were you a serial killer?”
“No.”
“But you were in a D&D club.”
He heaves a sigh, rocking back on his heels and tilting his head up towards the ceiling. You stare at him for a moment, watching him squirm a little bit like he’s looking for a way out of the conversation. Then, he grumbles, “Yeah…”
“You are so fucking cute.” Eddie’s cheeks turn bright red, and he spins away like he’s going to walk back through your bedroom door and disappear. You leap forward and grab his arm, giggling, “Nonono, don’t go. Come back here. So you’re a nerd, it’s okay. I’m a nerd. We’re nerds of a feather.”
“Sure.” Eddie snorts loudly, pulling you into a hug. His smoke surrounds you, as comforting and warm as his embrace. He buries his face in your hair, nuzzling against the side of your head. “M’gonna give you the truth, okay? The whole truth. And you have to promise not to run away.”
“Okay, Eddie.” You sigh and close your eyes as he lifts his hand and cups the side of your face. You lean into his touch. “I’m not running. I promise.”
HAWKINS, 1984
There are a few things Eddie Munson hates in this world. He has an abundance of annoyances, yes, but only a few things that he despises more than anything else. One of them is bullies- no matter where they come from. School, law enforcement, employers, whatever. It’s something he can’t deal with, and oftentimes out of his own propensity for self preservation, he spends his time avoiding them. He’s never been a fighter. He’s never been tough enough to defend himself, but running away is usually just as effective.
The second thing that he hates is loneliness. He likes to tell himself that, had he known that living in Hawkins would make him lonelier than anything, he’d have chosen to go live in Indianapolis with his Great Aunt Shirley instead of Uncle Wayne. But that’s not true at all– he loves Wayne, whenever he crosses paths with him.
But he’s being held back. Senior year of high school, and he’s not fucking graduating, and he doesn’t know if he can stand another year of bullshit from the assholes in town who can’t fucking stand him.
“You’re the only student we have who isn’t attending graduation this year,” Principal Higgins had told him, with his nose endearingly turned up in disdain. “You should feel lucky that we even offered to allow you to repeat the grade, considering your… track record.”
And so, thanks to his own irresponsibility and bad habits, he’ll be subjected to more loneliness. More bullying. More of the things he hates.
Unless.
Eddie’s done stupider things. His copper item is a… fucking moscow mule cup. Old and tarnished, but properly made of copper. He’ll get a new one for Wayne at some point, but he hasn’t seen his Uncle touch it in all the years that he’s lived with him. Eddie dirties his hands as he buries it in the wet earth, where the creek that runs through the woods behind Forest Hills trailer park splits in two. Eventually they converge again, somewhere down by Lover’s Lake, but here they create a fork.
He didn’t bother casting a circle. He doesn’t even know how the fuck that’s supposed to work.
His shoes are wet. He stands in ankle deep water, and he splashes around uncomfortably. “Hey, uh. I don’t know what I’m doing, but um. I’m– I’m here to make a deal. I guess.”
“Who’s the genius who uses a river as a crossroads?” says a woman’s voice, startling Eddie out of his wits.
Eddie jumps and loses his balance turning around in place, toppling down in the water. He looks around, hoping that he isn’t hearing things at the ripe old age of 18.
“Over here,” the voice says again, and Eddie catches a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. When he follows it, he finds a lady waving at him, crouched down beside a tree on the outer bank of the creek. Her dark hair hangs in her face, but she has a vaguely golden aura about her that makes her stand out in the night.
When she gets a good look at him, her sarcastic smile turns into a laugh. “Well, what do you know? It’s Jim Morrison.”
Eddie frowns. “I’m not Jim Morrison.”
“Obviously,” she says blandly. “Could’a fooled me, though.” She pauses, and then looks at him curiously. “What are you doing down there?”
Eddie glances down, at where he sits up to his waist in the water. He throws his hands up in defeat. “My delicates.”
She laughs and raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Yes.” He struggles up, dripping water all the way. “Y’know this is a sacred river? It was the birthplace of a love goddess or something.” He looks over at her again, and motions generally at her. “I can see the myth was true.”
The lady giggles, standing up from her crouched position. She wears a long green skirt that brushes the ground when she walks, and a crocheted shawl over some kind of halter top-looking doohickey. He tilts his head, being reminded of an old record that migrated to the back of his collection. Woodstock, ‘69. Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane.
Grace Slick– or, at least, the demon who looks an awful lot like her, considering Grace Slick is definitely still alive– grins wickedly. “Oh, a charmer. Are you flirting with me?”
Eddie cracks a smile. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
The lady hums, standing directly across the water from him. “You wanted to make a deal. I’m here to make it with you, so if you don’t mind. What is it that you want?”
“How about being the greatest guitarist who ever lived?” Eddie gestures vaguely around at his general being. Ankle deep in water, soggy and probably looking very pathetic. “I figure maybe it’ll make things easier in the meantime. What does school matter to a rockstar, y’know? Maybe it’ll help me get the fuck out of town, for starters.”
The lady tilts her head. “And you’re not Jim Morrison, huh?”
“Was Jim Morrison a guitarist?” He rocks on his feet, nearly losing his balance again as he splashes around a bit. He plods awkwardly across the water, shoes squelching and pocket chains jingling. “What do I have to do, huh? Beg on my hands and knees? I’m already out here, soaking wet, in the middle of the night–”
“You’ll be a guitarist,” the lady tells him, her voice a bit sterner now. She regards him closely, her dark eyes narrowed at him. “The greatest who ever was and ever will be. I can see why your petition came to me.”
“My… what?”
“Your request for a demon to make a deal with. It came to me, because I favor musicians and performers.” Shortly, she produces a small, spiraled notepad that has a bunch of messily scrawled words on it. “I’ll give you your greatness. In return, you give me blood each full moon. A few drops on a tissue will do. Burn it in a dish on your window sill.”
“Is that normal?” Eddie asks, “Y’know, considering you’re also getting my soul, and everything.”
“It’s what I ask of you for veneration. Each demon asks for something different. I just find it easier than asking for a sex rite.”
“Excuse me?”
“After you die, you’ll become one of us,” she continues. “A demon of the crossroads. I don’t keep your soul. But I get power for securing it.” She snatches his arm, as he reaches towards her notebook. “Is that a yes?”
Eddie blinks, flushing pink from the cold and the woman’s grip, burning his skin. Her hand is unbearably hot, almost enough for him to jerk away. “Yes.”
The woman smiles with unnervingly sharp, pointed teeth. “Good.”
It takes a second for the pain to register; when it does, the notebook in the demon’s hand is already splashed with Eddie’s blood. He gives a pained whimper as he recognizes the pain of the wound on his arm, and begins hyperventilating the longer it grows, reaching up his arm, slicing into his muscle. His body tenses up and starts to shake, her grip on his arm disturbingly strong.
When she lets go, he curses and glances down to find a new mark on his arm. A black inked tattoo of a swarm of bats.
“So… you fought the forces of evil by playing Metallica?”
“Well, it made sense at the time.”
Teeth dug into the plush skin of your bottom lip, you suppress another giggle as you sweep your fingers through Eddie’s hair, pushing his bangs back away from his face and letting them stick up into the air as you release them. He has a tiny scar on his forehead, just shy of his hairline, which you never noticed before now. You want to kiss it.
Instead, you trace it with your fingers. Eddie’s chin rests on your stomach, his eyes dark and wanting as they gaze up at your face. He has the prettiest eyelashes you think you’ve ever seen, and he bats them at you like he means to use them for your demise.
He lays between your legs on the couch. You’d moved there naturally, with his hands coaxing you and yours pulling him like a life raft. It isn’t easy, having the contents of someone’s life– two years’ worth of it– dumped into your head all at once. When he said he was going to give you the truth, he quite literally gave it to you. Directly. Into your brain.
He gave you everything, from the time that he made his deal, all the way up to his death. You saw him forming the Hellfire Club only a few months after the deal was initially made, and watched as it evolved into a gaggle of friends that he cared for and loved. And you saw the way that he protected them until the very end, when he played the greatest rock concert ever given.
“You were so sweet, baby,” you whisper, with a tightness in your throat that tries to constrict the flow of air from getting out.
“Wonder what happened.” You bop him on the shoulder with your palm and watch his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Hey, I mean. You don’t sit through torture seminars in Hell without getting a little bit screwy on your way out.”
“They have seminars there?”
“Are you kidding?” Eddie snorts, his eyes lighting up briefly with a little bit of fire. “There’s a whole circle of Hell that’s just one big long TimeShares seminar. I’ve been to it. Probably the most horrible thing I had to experience before I could go off and start making deals. They use it as training.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“It is fucked up. It’s Hell, and I’m a salesman. Arthur Miller should have written something about that.”
“So… does God exist?”
“Oh, sure. Lots of gods. My favorite one is Hades. Cool guy. He runs Hell– the Underworld. Same thing. Persephone is kind of intimidating, though. Don’t get on her bad side.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “Pretty much any mythological figure you can think of exists on some plane of the Otherworld. Think of… gods and angels as my coworkers, in different departments. Maybe I don’t like all of them, but I work with them.”
“The Otherworld is a department store?”
“Precisely.”
Your fingers fumble with the collar of his shirt and hook around the metal chain he wears around his neck. “Can I ask you a serious question?”
His eyes bore into yours. “Anything you want.”
“How many, um–” Your eyes flutter when he shifts, and your fingers dip beneath the collar of his shirt just enough to feel the burn of his skin there– “how many deals have you made?”
“Including you,” he says, heaving a sigh that you can feel expand in his chest, “three. There was Charlotte, in ‘91, and then Adrian, in ‘99. Neither of them held up their end of the deal.”
“The… the full moon?” You can’t imagine how it could be that much of a sacrifice, being required to sleep with him once a month. You’re so pent up, so eager to do it already that the notion that someone wouldn’t seems absurd to you.
Eddie nods. “You don’t hold up your end of the deal… the contract is up. And then Hell comes to collect.”
You let that information hang in the air between you. You stare at it, the empty space over his head, as you try to process it in the silence that follows. “Quick way to an early grave?”
“Happened to me,” he mutters. “Forgot to prick my finger and rub it on a napkin during all that mess, fighting for my life. If you can believe it.”
There’s an unspoken air of heaviness in the room– the knowledge that he died far too young, protecting his friends with the talent he sold his soul to have. Far too quickly to make selling his soul even worth it in the long run. It weighs on you, pressing down on your lungs at the same time as Eddie’s weight presses in between your hips.
Your own rite looms over you, just a few days away. Something in your gut tells you that Eddie is giving you this– the honest truth– so you know what you’re in for. You promised him you wouldn’t run away.
You sold your soul and promised that you’d meet his demands if he met yours; you never expected that it would get to this point. That you’d be lying here, with him curled between your legs, and you’d have to accept that the attraction you feel towards him isn’t just due to the terms of the deal anymore.
You know him, now. Or, at least, you know him a fair bit better than you did.
You tilt your head, realizing something out of the blue. “You didn’t have to make my deal include the sex.”
“I never claimed to not be a pervert, sweetheart.” He flashes you a sharp grin. “I am your average horny little devil, you know.”
“And you didn’t have to mark me with your name,” you point out, with a note of curiosity in your voice. “Your demon didn’t.”
Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, but that’s ‘cause I’m disgustingly obsessed with you and need you to be all mine, so.”
Your heart flutters at that, singing along to the tune of some stupid love song you haven’t heard in a long time. You hum, holding Eddie’s face in your hands. His eyes flick down to your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze.
“I still think you’re sweet,” you tell him earnestly.
“You think I’m sweet?” He parrots, his hand sliding up the curve of your thigh and over your hip, his fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. He looks incredulous, like he doesn’t really believe you.
“I mean, sweet like a feral dog I have on a leash who’s out for everyone’s blood except mine. Y’know.”
He grins wickedly, a deadly twinkle in his eye as he shifts further down, his head lowering toward where your shirt bunches up around your waist, exposing a sliver of your stomach. You shudder as his hot breath hits your skin. “Is this sweet?”
Eddie presses a lingering kiss onto the soft skin just above your navel. You sigh, your fingers sliding through his hair and gripping at the roots, and he pauses. His breath hitches in his throat at the feeling of your hands in his hair, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he hovers there, with his lips pressed softly to your stomach.
He puffs out his cheeks and blows a raspberry.
“Eddie!” you squeal, trying to get away from him as he cackles, holding you hostage to his assault. You kick your legs and manage to squirm until you throw the both of you off of the couch, rolling with him onto the floor.
Dante gets up from his spot at the end of the couch and disappears through the wall like an apparition. He tends to disappear off into the aether at random times, only to reappear later, whenever he’s hungry or if you call him. You guess that life as a hellhound is busy work. Or, maybe he’s just sick of you and Eddie being revoltingly touchy-feely in front of him.
“I take it back! I take it back, you little fuck–”
“Can’t take it back!” He rolls with you gripping onto your kicking legs until you come to a stop beside the coffee table, straddling his hips. You sit back on your heels to glare down at him, but he’s still chuckling. His eyes twinkle in the low light of your living room. “No takesies-backsies.”
This position is… too familiar. It’s intimate– it’s like you’re two normal lovers on an autumn afternoon, kicking around and doing stupid shit and just enjoying each other’s company.
Something is changing. No matter how sexually charged the relationship has been until now, something feels different. It’s in the way he looks up at you like you hung the moon. It’s in the way you lean forward and trace his lower lip with the tip of your finger, humming to yourself all the while.
Eddie stares directly into your eyes as he slowly opens his mouth and takes your finger between his teeth, his lips curving up into a mischievous smile.
“No,” you sing at him, soft but stern like he’s a misbehaving pet. “Open.”
He blinks, and releases your finger with a curious expression. You lean further down, nearly nudging your nose with his as your fingertip strokes gently down his extended tongue, his hot breath coming out gift wrapped with a sigh. Eddie snakes his arms around your waist as you replace your finger with your own tongue, sealing your mouth against his.
Handsy. You guess that’s what you can call him– you haven’t kissed him like this before, soft and sensual and unrushed. While his tongue works against yours in a way that has your mind reeling, his hands wander down to cup your ass and squeeze, until you squeak against his mouth and lurch against his touch.
The thing about this is… well. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him anymore. Is he your patron demon? Is he your boyfriend? Infernal demon boyfriend with a sweet streak that only you get to see?
Every nerve in your body is on fire, and he’s seemingly happy to drive you crazy while you try your best not to grind down onto him. It’s all a little bit too much for you to process right now– with the way things are going, you’re wondering if you’re set for life. Who the fuck is going to compare to a demon, now that you have one? What human person will ever match up?
“I think you’ve ruined me for everyone else,” you whisper conspiratorially, letting your lips drag against his.
“Tell you a secret?” Eddie’s voice is warm in the back of his throat. He peers at you through his lashes, eyes heavy-lidded and twinkling with the barest flicker of a flame in his deep brown irises. “That was my plan all along.”
“You monster.”
“You got me all figured out.” He snickers once, dimples indenting rosy cheeks that are much too pretty to belong to a demon, but you’re starting to suspend your disbelief. Eddie’s laughter dies in his chest when your mouth attaches to his neck; a hollow noise takes its place, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it down.
Hands hiking his t-shirt up over his stomach, you’re inching your way down his body like you have a plan, and Eddie’s frozen beneath you like he’s trying to figure out what it is. It takes him just a couple seconds, until your tongue connects with the trail of hair running down his stomach, and then he smirks knowingly.
“Oh, I see,” he hums, his eyebrows raising as you lick your way down toward his belt. “You’re a keen little thing, aren’t you? Don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Shut up, Eddie.” It doesn’t come out as sharp as you intend for it to, because your hands are fiddling with his belt. You pull it free from his jeans and fling it over the coffee table with more force than necessary.
“Buy my silence,” he mutters sarcastically with a shit-eating grin. A playful glimmer sparkles in his eye as you curl your fingers into his waistband and tear at them, but he doesn’t move to help you at all. “Nine ninety-nine a month, with tax. Quick, before the rates go up.”
You’re shaking your head, shooting him a caustic glare as your mouth finds the soft skin just beneath his waistline. You just want to get his pants off however you can– if you have to rip them off of him, so be it.
“Oop– ten ninety-nine a month. Better think fast, baby.”
You yank them down his hips, just low enough that you can nuzzle and lick into the thick patch of hair over his groin. You breathe in the scent of his skin, lingering just beneath all his usual smoke. Warmth and salt, as though he’s real and not just the corporeal manifestation of a spirit.
“...E-eleven– ninety-ni– hmm.” Eddie’s giddy voice dies as a purr in his throat, his head rocking back against the floor. He gasps when drool rolls off of your parted lips, wetting the skin of his hip just before you suck a hickey there. He squirms. “Fuck it. You get it for free.”
“Just wanna suck you off,” you whisper, a little more slack jawed and unhinged than you were before. You suck in a deep breath and lave your tongue over the base of his cock, as it peeks out over the waist of his jeans. “Wanna taste you everywhere, baby.”
“Christ– M’not gonna stop you. Go ahead, take what you want, sweetheart.”
Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hips jumping when you lift his cock out of his pants. Warmth settles in the pit of your stomach, pulsing between your legs when you wrap your fingers around it. It’s so much better than in your dream– it’s thicker, massive, the vein along the bottom pulsing in your hand.
You spit onto it, mixing your saliva with the bead of precum gathered on the head. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Eddie.”
He gasps, kicks his hips up into your fist. “Y–you’re so fucki– hhng–”
You shush him, and look up as you trail your tongue along his shaft, feeling him twitch against you. Mouthing kisses along it, wet and soft, you suck just a bit with each one to watch his chest leap with his breath. “I wanna take you to pieces.”
“Shit–” Eddie lifts his head to gaze down at you, eyes glassy, lips red and parted as he pants. “You’re gorgeous. Oh, honey…”
Eddie moans when you slide his head into your mouth, letting your tongue glide gently over his slit. His hand flies down, tangling into your hair, the metal of his rings digging into your scalp.
You open your mouth and take him in as far as he’ll go, until he hits the back of your throat and you choke.
“Such a good fucking girl for me,” Eddie breathes, his hand on the back of your head grounding you like an anchor. “Just look at you, baby. So fuckin’ perfect, god.”
Actually, you feel like a mess, with spit dribbling down your chin and eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. Sniffling from the tears and the lack of air, gagging on his cock. Drunk on sin and the taste of his flesh.
You imagine that’s probably what he considers perfection, though.
He stiffens when you swallow around him, your hands wrapping around his hips in an attempt to hold him down. Eddie makes a soft sound in his throat– something you might mistake as submissive, if his hand in your hair weren’t pushing you harder down onto his cock, forcing you to gag on him. The tightening of your throat around him is enough to make him twitch in your mouth.
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck–”
Lips dripping saliva, your throat flexes just before you pull off with a wet gasping noise that makes Eddie curse and tighten his fist in your hair. You can’t be coy, can’t pretend like you aren’t fucking wrecked; you’re a mess of spit and tears, the salt of his precum on your tongue and in the back of your throat.
Dipping your head, you nuzzle down to suck at his balls. Slick lips latching onto soft skin, suckling just enough to make him howl and buck his hips up against your hold. You lap at him with your tongue, hearing his moan crackle in his throat with a prideful grin.
You gaze up at him with glassy eyes when he reaches down with one big hand to fist his swollen cock. Rings glint in the light and catch on his skin with a sharp edge, contrasting your light touch on his balls, making him flex his hips up into his own hand.
You’re mesmerized, watching his hand work in front of your face, with your spit and his fluids spilling over his knuckles. It kicks up a sticky, wet sound that makes something deep in your gut flutter.
“Open your mouth,” Eddie grits out, in such a commanding tone that you don’t even think to question him. You just do.
The muscles of his stomach tightens when he cums, his breath hitching on the inhale. Ropes of white spurt from his tip while he groans so loud it could rattle the ceiling. Some of it gets in your mouth, but most gets on your face– large drops on your cheeks, clinging to your lips and your chin. You moan when you lick the excess from your lips before you swallow, your eyes fluttering shut.
“Fuckin– filthy little girl, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, and reaches forward to snatch your face with his wet fingers. His rings dig into your messy cheeks, smearing his cum across your skin.
You gasp, your eyes flying open to meet his, as he grins evilly down at you. It makes you shudder, a moan caught in your throat. Your face burns. The mark on your wrist throbs in the shape of his name.
“Yeah, sweetheart. My dirty girl, all covered in my cum like that.” His thumb pets your cheek, sticky on your skin as he plays with it. “What a pretty fuckin’ painting.”
You whine as he pulls you upwards, clambering over his body. Your cunt throbs between your legs, and it turns worse when he yanks you toward his face.
Eddie’s tongue drags up your cheek, licking his cum off of your face. It makes the blood rush beneath your skin, makes your body heat up with just how filthy it all truly is. He hums low, licking your mouth and letting the tip of his tongue catch on your teeth, leaving your skin wet and stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Hm,” he grunts after a moment, tilting his head as he looks at you. Your cheeks are pinched between his fingers, your lips puckered in a way that you’re sure isn’t very sexy, but he doesn’t seem deterred by it. Eddie cracks a grin and says, “No, I don’t think I’m very sweet. Tastes more umami.”
“Oh my god.” You bark a laugh, ripping your face away from his grip so you can roll off of him.
Eddie snatches you before you can get away, pulling you down so that he can playfully bite at your cheek, giggling along with you. “No, don’t go baby, I gotta clean you up–”
“You’re obnoxious,” you cackle at him, letting him roll with you across the floor, feeling a sort of obsessive delight consume your voice.
He smushes his face against yours, and you can feel his teeth as he grins, scraping your skin. There’s an undertone to your thoughts as he does, which makes your heart pound in your chest when you acknowledge it for what it is.
You love him. You love him. You love him.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#tdik!fic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#demon!eddie munson#demon!eddie#stranger things fic#roses*
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♯WICKED GAME ; tate langdon
PAIRING! tate langdon x gn!reader
SYNOPSIS! the world was on fire and no one could save you but him
WORD COUNT! 2.3k
WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, angst, kissing, mention of tate’s past, reader is described to have hair
NOTES! the first song is ‘lavender moon’ by haroula rose , the second one is ‘wicked game’ by chris isaak . all credits to the pretty devider below belong to @menschenopfer !
THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN FILTERED THROUGH THE CRACKED BLINDS, casting golden streaks across your room. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the dying light. You were sprawled out on your bed, headphones in hand, scrolling through your playlist for something that matched the mood. Tate was beside you, perched on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He'd become a fixture in your life, as constant as the house itself, though infinitely more complicated.
You pressed play on a random song and handed him one of the earbuds. He took it without a word, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver up your arm. The touch was brief but electric, a reminder of the strange, magnetic pull that had drawn you to him from the start.
❛ White walls always weep
When I try to fall asleep
In this city by the sea
Walk the memories
Just me and the lavender moon
She knows
My heart belongs to you ❜
There was something about Tate — something dark and dangerous, but also deeply comforting. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to know what you were thinking before you said it, or the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who truly mattered. It should have scared you, how easily he got under your skin, how effortlessly he'd slipped into your life and made himself at home. But it didn't. If anything, you welcomed it, welcomed him, because with Tate, you didn't have to pretend. You could just be.
❛ Filled with secrets like these
Haunted by long gone dreams
She bends down low
Walks me home
Just me and the lavender moon
She knows
My heart belongs to you ❜
The music played softly between you, the familiar rhythm of a song you'd heard a thousand times before. Tate closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, and for a moment, you just watched him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the way the fading light softened his features. He looked almost peaceful, like this was where he belonged — right here, beside you. Like an angel.
A few more songs passed in comfortable silence, the kind you'd grown to cherish with him. No need for words, no pressure to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter. Just the two of you, together, in a world that often felt too big and too empty.
❛ The world was on fire and no one could save me but you
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do ❜
You glanced at Tate through your lashes, wondering how he'd react to the song, but his expression remained unreadable, his eyes still closed as if lost in some distant memory.
It was impossible not to think of Tate when you heard those words. Impossible not to think of the way he'd become your world in such a short time, the way you were drawn to him despite the warnings in the back of your mind, the ones that whispered that this was dangerous, that Tate was dangerous. But you ignored them, like you always did, because nothing else mattered when he was around. Nothing else made sense without him.
You felt his gaze on you before you opened your eyes, a slow-burning intensity that made your heart skip a beat. When you finally looked at him, he was watching you with that familiar, unreadable expression — part longing, part sadness, all wrapped up in a kind of quiet desperation that tugged at something deep inside you.
"Do you think," he began, his voice hesitant, "it's wrong to want something you can't have?"
The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. You knew what he was asking, what he wasn't saying. You knew him well enough by now to recognize the way he danced around the truth, always skirting the edges of it, never fully diving in. It was as if he was afraid that speaking it aloud would make it real, would make it hurt more.
Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I think . . . we can't help what we want."
His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his features, and for a moment, you thought he might look away, might retreat back into that guarded place where you couldn't follow. But he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between you, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"I want you," he said, the words raw and unfiltered, like they'd been torn from somewhere deep inside him.
You should have been shocked, maybe even scared. But you weren't. You'd felt this moment building between you for months, a sweet burn that you couldn't have stopped even if you wanted to. And you didn't want to. You wanted him too, even if you weren't ready to admit it, even if the thought of it terrified you.
Tate reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch like a starved animal without thinking, without hesitation. His hand was cool, but the warmth in his eyes more than made up for it. He watched you with a kind of reverence, like you were something precious, something fragile that he was afraid to break.
"I know it's wrong," he continued, his voice trembling just slightly, "but I can't help it. You're . . . you're everything."
The music swelled, Chris Isaak's voice echoing through the room like a ghost. ❛ What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you . . . ❜
You reached up, covering his hand with yours, holding it against your cheek. The connection between you was undeniable, an invisible thread that pulled you closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to think about what you were doing, about what this meant.
But you couldn't stop. You didn't want to.
You were already hooked and Tate was the one reeling.
"Tate," you whispered, your voice shaking as much as his, "I want you too."
The admission hung in the air, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying. Tate's eyes widened slightly, something unreadable flashing in their depths — hope, maybe, or fear, or something darker that you couldn't quite name. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him close the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was desperate.
It was a kiss that spoke of everything you both felt but couldn't say, a kiss that was filled with all the longing, all the fear, all the desire that had been building between you for so long. His hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening as if he was afraid you might disappear, might slip away like a dream.
But you didn't pull away. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all your confusion, your need, your want into that single, fragile moment. The world outside the room didn't exist — there was only Tate, only the way he made you feel, like you were the center of the universe, like nothing else mattered.
When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The song was still playing, the final notes fading into silence, but neither of you moved to turn it off.
"I don't want to lose you," the boy whispered against your lips, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way you'd never heard before. "I can't lose you."
You squeezed his hand, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at his words. "You won't. I'm here, Tate. I'm not going anywhere."
When you made the promise that day, you meant it.
Weeks after, you step into the room, the weight of the house pressing in on you like a too-tight garment. The air is thick with history, with secrets embedded in the wallpaper and worn into the grooves of the wooden floorboards. Every creak beneath your feet echoes in the silence, a reminder that this house is alive in ways it shouldn't be.
And then you see him.
Tate Langdon stands by the window, his silhouette framed against the dying light of the afternoon that reminded you of the old time all too well. The sun bleeds into the room, casting long shadows that stretch toward you, but they don't touch him. He's like a figure from another time, a ghost etched in shades of grey, all the life drained from him except for his eyes. Those eyes — honeyed and haunting — lock onto yours, and the world narrows until it's just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels like it could last forever.
You can't move. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your own mortality. You wonder if he can hear it, if the sound cuts through the heavy silence that wraps around him like a shroud. His gaze is intense, unwavering, and it draws you in, pulls you closer despite the chill that crawls up your spine. You know you should be afraid — everything about him screams danger, from the way he stands too still, to the way he looks at you like he's trying to unravel all your secrets with a single glance.
But you aren't afraid. Not of him.
You've heard the stories from Moira a while ago, the whispered rumors about the boy who died too young, who left behind more than just memories. She said his spirit haunts this house, trapped in the echo of his own sins. But the boy standing before you now — he doesn't seem like a monster to you. Not really. He seems . . . lost. Like he's searching for something, or maybe someone, to bring him back to life, if only for a moment.
You step closer, drawn to him despite the voice in your head screaming for you to turn back, to leave this place and never return. But you can't. Something in his eyes, in the way he watches you, holds you captive. It's a wicked game, this dance between you — dangerous and intoxicating, with no clear end in sight.
He doesn't speak, but you feel the pull of his presence, the magnetic force that tugs at something deep inside you. You reach out, your hand trembling as it crosses the space between you. When your fingers brush against his, a shock runs through you, like touching ice and fire at the same time. You've never questioned the lack of warmth in his touch before. His skin is cold, too cold, but there's something warm in his touch, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.
For a moment, the world around you fades. There's only him, only Tate, standing so close you can feel the faint whisper of his breath against your cheek. He's not like anyone you've ever met, not like anything you've ever known. He's darkness and sorrow and something else — something tender, hidden beneath layers of pain and regret. You feel it in the way his fingers tighten around yours, in the way his eyes search your face as if he's trying to memorize every detail.
You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't want this. But you do.
The song plays in your mind, a haunting melody that echoes in the empty spaces between your thoughts. ❛ No, I don't want to fall in love . . . ❜ It's a lie, you think, because you're already falling, slipping into the abyss with no way to stop yourself. There's no safety net, no promise of salvation, only the cold comfort of his presence and the unspoken connection between you.
Tate moves closer, his other hand lifting to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, reverent, as though he's afraid you might be the one to disappear if he presses too hard. His gaze drifts to your lips, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing you are — that you could close the distance between you with a kiss, that you could taste the darkness on his lips and make it your own again.
But you know better. You know this game is dangerous, that it can only end in heartbreak. And yet, as he leans in, you can't bring yourself to care. The world outside this room, outside this moment, doesn't matter anymore. There's only Tate, and the way he makes you feel — alive, despite the coldness of his touch, despite the fact that he isn't really alive at all.
It's ironic how a ghost can make you feel.
When his lips finally brush against yours, it's like a spark igniting in the darkness, a flame that burns bright and fast, consuming everything in its path. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though he's afraid of what might happen if he lets go. But you can feel the desperation beneath it, the hunger in his actions.
And maybe that's what you want. To be drowned, to be consumed by him, by this feeling that defies logic and reason.
The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it, in him, until there's nothing left but the two of you, entwined in the darkness. You don't know how long it lasts — seconds, minutes, an eternity — but when you finally pull away, you're breathless, your heart racing in your chest. His eyes are still locked on yours, and you see something in them that takes your breath away. It's not just desire or longing — it's something more, something raw and real, something that terrifies you because you feel it too.
You're falling, and there's no one to catch you.
You're not dreaming. This is real, as real as anything else in this house, as real as the boy standing before you, a boy who's more ghost than flesh but who makes you feel more alive than anyone ever has.
And as you stand there, your hand still in his, you realize that you don't care about the consequences, about the danger, about the inevitability of heartbreak. Because in this moment, with Tate's cold fingers wrapped around yours and the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips, it's all worth it.
Even if it's just a wicked game.
#tate langdon#tate langdon x reader#tate langdon x y/n#tate langdon x you#tate langdon ahs#tate langdon headcanon#tate langdon fanfic#tate langdon fluff#tate langdon imagine#ahs x reader#ahs x you#ahs murder house#x reader#reader insert#murder house#ahs fandom
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15. holding my breath for you
Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2
Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt /comfort, gore, violence, TLOU II SPOILERS, Major Character Death
Notes: I would say sorry... but I'm not sure I am. I LOVE YOU ALL DEARLY THOUGH!
If you haven’t seen this beautiful commission of Joel and Reader yet, you should.
Words: 6125
Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist
Dawn is just forming when you roll over to find Joel’s side of the bed cold. A pout forms on your lips before you can open your eyes. He’s due to set out on patrol this morning and didn’t wake you up. He’s supposed to wake you up before he leaves. It’s the rule.
You check on the kids to make sure they’re still asleep before trekking down to the stables. You pull the worn robe tightly around you as the wind whips at your hair and fresh snowfall threatens above you. You should’ve changed out of your pajamas, pulled on your boots and coat, but you fully intend to climb back into bed after this. They should still be there. Their patrol isn’t scheduled to leave for another 10 minutes. You find Joel in the stall at the end, diligently inspecting the saddle.
“You didn’t wake me up.” You cross your arms.
His head snaps up, a small smirk forming on his lips as he takes in your disheveled look. “You looked too cute this morning.”
“It’s the rule, Miller. We have rules for a reason. You always wake me up.” You put on a pout, but Joel sees through the teasing mannerisms, the stress that always creases your brow before patrols, especially overnight and snowy ones.
“I’m sorry.” His hands grab your waist, pulling you against his sturdy frame as he kisses your forehead. “Will you forgive me?”
“Maybe.”
He kisses your cheek. You don’t give in. He kisses your other cheek, then your neck, behind your ear until you're laughing like you’re a teenager and not almost 50 years old. He chuckles. It’s the kind that could and has kept you warm through the most brutal of winters.
“Okay, Okay.” You throw your hands up in surrender. They settle on his shoulders. “I forgive you.”
“Good.” He presses a firm kiss to your lips. “They’re closer than we thought. We’ll probably be out there a few days, back in time for Willa’s dance recital. I promise.”
“You better.” You push down the anxiety that rises. This is your least favorite kind of patrol. “She’s been practicing nonstop.”
“I know.” Joel sees it in your eyes, hears it in your voice. His arms wrap around you, burying his head into your neck. “She’s gonna be the prettiest damn butterfly up there.”
You lean into his warmth. You don’t sleep well alone. The kids get grumpy without him around. His breath is hot in your ear. “I’ll be back before you know it, Sweetheart.”
You squeeze him tight and then his lips are on yours, soft and sweet.
Tommy clears his throat. “You ready to go? You don’t have time to take her back to bed, Joel.”
You flip him off. Joel gives you another sturdy kiss for good measure. Tommy rolls his eyes.
You walk with them to the front of the stables, Joel’s free hand in yours. “Be safe.”
“Always.” He squeezes your hand.
He’s about to mount his horse, but quickly changes paths. Handing Tommy his mare’s reins, he kisses you again until you’re both breathless. Tommy shakes his head, teasing grin on his lips from on top of his horse. Joel smiles at you like you hold his whole world because you do. “I love you.”
“Stay safe out there,” you say as Joel takes the reins back, mounting the horse. “I love you.”
“Always, Darlin.” He winks at you.
You look at Tommy. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”
Tommy chuckles. “As if I could start now.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “We’re losing daylight, little brother.”
You step back. Joel winks at you. “Love you,” and then they’re off.
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. The words echo in Joel’s mind. There are too many of them. How did they all get here? Jackson is supposed to be too far out for this many infected. His mind races, desperately scanning for an out, while also trying to keep himself and Tommy alive.
Then the girl shows up, like a light in the darkness offering up a plan of escape. He takes it. Who wouldn’t? He wants to see his family again. He doesn’t ask or wonder what the girl is doing here with a group of friends. There’s no time for caution. It’s a way to get out- a way back. The only thing on his mind is getting back to you in one piece.
Once they’re safely behind the gate, inside the house- he knows this place. It’s yours- well your grandparents. It starts to sink in. He counts at least 8. He sees the looks between them when he introduces himself. Something's not right.
“Say, what brings y’all out here?”
The room is quiet. They’re staring at him like he should know them, but they’re too young to have known him before. He exchanges a look with Tommy. Then there’s a shotgun in his face. Before he can comprehend that this is the end, it goes off at his knee. Joel yells out in pain. He can see his femur. His arms are pinned. A tourniquet is placed around his thigh to keep him from bleeding out. Two of the other guys hold Tommy back.
The girl, Abby, holds a golf club. Of all the ways Joel imagined dying, this was not it. He can hardly hear her through the pain and the thoughts swirling in his mind. There’s no getting out of this. There’s no help on the way. This is the end. It hits him like a blow to the chest. There’s no seeing Willa’s dance retail on Wednesday. No more playing catch with Carter. No chance for Ellie to forgive him. No more holding you.
The words hurt as they come out. It feels like giving up because it is. “Just get it over with.”
His words seem to anger Abby. He doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t know who her friends are, but he knows he’s about to die. He knows the look in their eyes. He’s all too acquainted with revenge.
Then another thought pops into his head as his eyes move from Abby’s. It’s the dark stain in front of the fireplace. It could pass off as dirt and grime now. You spent years trying to get it out, but he knows it’s blood. Carter’s blood. He can’t let this happen here. He can’t give you another reason to hate this place. Another bad memory to tarnish the good ones.
“This won’t be fast.” The golf club collides with his ribs.
He coughs, sputtering as his lungs struggle to recover from the blow. Abby paces in front of him stalking like a predator does to its prey. Taunting him.
“Please,” he wheezes. “Not here. Somewhere…” he inhales deeply. “Somewhere else.”
Abby seems taken aback by the request.
“Anywhere but here.” It hurts to draw breath, but it’s getting easier. “Outside-“
“So you can freeze before I’m done? I don’t think so.”
Abby’s foot collides with his face. There’s the unmistakable crunch of a broken nose. Blood flows from it.
“Please. Not here.” He meets her eyes. The golf club strikes his lungs again.
Joel sees it. She won’t give in. He’s going to die here. His blood will mingle with your brother’s. He’s failed you.
He lets his brain take him away from what’s happening, but each blow brings him back to reality. He’s thinking about you, the last thing he said. Did he tell you he loved you? The next hit knocks the air out of him. He left the house without waking you up. He almost left without seeing you this morning. He’s pretty sure the next one hits a kidney. He thanks whatever god is there you woke up. That he got to see you one last time, feel your lips against his.
One of his ribs cracks.
He waited too goddamn long to tell you he loves you. He didn’t say it nearly enough in the short time he had.
Two more ribs shatter.
Maria comes over to the clinic after watching the blizzard roll over the mountains. It’s hitting Jackson now, but you're worried about the people sent out there today, the ones who sit at your family table in particular. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse left a few hours after Joel and Tommy
You’re organizing shelves to keep yourself busy, sure at least one person will wander in with frostbite shortly. It’s a good distraction from the other worries at hand.
“Willa ready for her dance recital?”
“I can barely get her out of the wings to go to bed.” A smile flutters over your lips.
Maria laughs. “I was talking to Rachel last night. She’s running around like crazy trying to make sure they have everything ready.”
“I bet… I’m glad they’re doing this though. It’s been an especially cold winter.”
You’d lost more patrols to the cold than to Infected this year. That hadn’t happened before.
“They’ll be okay,” Maria says. “Always are.”
The radio crackles to life before you can respond. Your stomach drops. Only two outposts have radios. You only use them in emergencies, preferring to stay off the radios whenever possible.
“Outpost 2 to base.” Dina’s voice filters through the static affected by the ensuing storm.
Your stomach drops. Maria picks up the receiver. “Base to Outpost 2- Dina is that you?”
“Maria?”
“Dina, is everyone okay?”
Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. It’s a stupid question. You don’t use the radios when everything is okay. Outpost 2 is a 4-hour ride from here. In the blizzard, it’s probably longer. You start putting your kit together.
“I don’t know- Jesse said Joel and Tommy missed their check-in.” The supplies in your hands clatter to the floor. You make eye contact with Maria. “We split up to look for them. I’m going to head toward the Baldwin Mansion to find Ellie. No trace of them this way.”
You freeze, heart stopping. Not there. Anywhere but there. You lock eyes with Maria. “You shouldn’t-” But her words set your resolve.
“I’m going.”
“It’s not safe-”
“It’s Joel and Tommy!”
You don’t want to. You swore you’d never go back there, but this is Joel. If you aren’t there to help him, you’ll never forgive yourself.
“Maria?” Dina comes through fuzzy as the blizzard interferes with the frequency.
You can probably make it there about the same time Dina will. It won’t be easy, but you can do it. You have to. You stuff a few more things into your backpack.
“We’ll meet you there.”
“Be careful, there’s definitely a colony coming in.”
“You too.”
Maria drops the receiver, looking at you. “I’ll go have them saddle up a couple of horses, check out a few firearms.”
You nod, focused on what to bring. You don’t have time to spare tears. Tears will freeze as soon as you’re outside and dehydrate you.
You meet Maria by the stables. She hands you a rifle and a pistol. It’s been a long time since you rode out like this. You both know the implications if you don’t come back, but you don’t hesitate when the gate opens.
Infected, burnt to a crisp, are pushed to the side and the gate is wide open when you arrive. It’s an eerie sight. Someone was here.
A horse whinnies in the distance. The snow has slowed down but still creates a cover. You pull the pistol from the holster at your thigh, adrenaline pumping. Two figures come into view.
“It’s us!” Dina calls out. Jesse rides beside her. You relax some, but your anxiety still rides high.
You find Joel and Tommy’s horses in the garage. It’s all wrong. They wouldn’t have left the gate open, not with all those infected out there even burnt up. You keep your guard up as you clear the house room by room. Jesse and Dina don’t ask how you seem to know this place like the back of your hand. You avoid the den, leaving it for last. You hope to hear their playful banter drifting from room to room, but the house is silent.
When you come to the den, you let the others take the lead. You’re struggling to keep your hands steady, and before you can enter the room, you hear their curses. You smell the blood before you see it. It’s splattered on everything around. Then you see him. Joel, your Joel, laying in his own blood. Your ears ring, pressure building between them. Your vision turns red. It’s so familiar and Carter’s limp body flashes before your eyes. A sob gets stuck in your throat. Maria’s arms are around you, keeping you upright before you realize your legs have given out. You stare at him. You wish you could stop looking at it, but you can’t as the sight sears itself into your memory.
For the first time, your prayer changes. Please, let him be dead. You shudder. Because if he’s not dead, he’s suffering, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Dina rouses Ellie on the other side of the room. Jesse helps Tommy into a sitting position. They seem okay, physically, but your brain barely comprehends it all. You look at him, battered and bruised. The bone of his right knee is exposed. It’s the work of a shotgun at close range. There’s a tourniquet around his thigh. Your stomach drops. This wasn’t some random hit. They wanted him alive as long as possible.
Your eyes drift around the room. A bloodied golf club lays in front of the fireplace. Joel’s fresh red blood drips over the fading remnants of your brother’s causing bile to burn in your throat.
“You have to do something.” Ellie looks at you. Tears streak her face. Anger and rage fit for a grown man rattle her small frame. “You’re the only one who can help him!”
You shake your head. The tears fall freely now. You try to get the words out, but it's like someone has shoved cotton down your throat. Your tongue flops uselessly in your mouth. “Ellie- I can’t-” Your words are scattered and disjointed. Maria cradles your head against her chest, “There’s-”
Joel groans. Your heart stops. The world goes silent. He does it again. This time, one of his fingers twitches.
“Oh my God…” Maria breaths.
Tommy curses under his breath. You feel it heavy in your chest. Fuck.
None of it’s from relief. It’s pure horror. Because you all know, he’s not coming back from this.
Ellie rushes forward. She touches Joel’s hand. You see the hope radiating as she locks eyes with you. “You can still save him.”
It’s a stab to your chest. “No, I can’t.”
You watch the light flicker from her eyes. “You have to! You fucking have to!” The tears flood her eyes. “C’mon, Joel. You have to get up! Fucking get up!”
She presses on his shoulder in an attempt to get him to his back. He groans out in pain. The knife in your chest twists.
She stops, choking on her tears. “Joel… please get up.” Her voice is weaker now. Her pants soak with dark red.
He grunts out something that sounds something like “Ellie.”
“You motherfucker.” She cries, but it’s an endearment. You catch the slight uptick of Joel's colorless lips. Ellie can’t stop crying. Trying to wipe the tears away, she leaves streaks of blood on her cheeks. Joel tries, but he can’t get anything else out.
You lean further into Maria’s grasp but she can’t squeeze you tight enough, only Joel could ever do that.
Something in Ellie snaps. The tears stop, and her breathing settles. It’s like watching a person go from human to robot, except she looks more like the girl you met 7 years ago, and less the angry young woman you’ve come to know. There’s a telepathy going on between them. You’ve seen it so many times before. Her hand rests on top of his. Her head nods like she knows what he’s trying to say.
“I forgive you.”
It knocks the air from your lungs. Tommy’s too. You know what it’s about. You know how big this moment is. The weight on your chest lightens a little bit.
Ellie looks up at you, and motions you toward them. “He wants you.”
She moves from Joel’s side, making space for you. You lay down next to him, not caring about the blood-soaked carpet around and the way it bleeds into your clothes. Gently, you run your fingers through his blood-matted hair. “Hey, Baby.” You’re careful not to cause more pain with your touch.
His eyes meet yours. You see the sparkle of tears in them. He attempts to talk again in a long slow slur. You can barely make it out. “I’m sorry”
The knife is pulled from your chest cavity, the pain so physical you shudder. His index finger moves over your left knuckle and your chest shakes again. You force a smile. You just want him to be at peace, “It’s okay, Joel.”
His head shakes briefly, barely noticeable, but you’re tuned in to his every movement, his every breath, his every heavy heartbeat. “It’s okay.” You kiss his hand, then his forehead. It’s sweaty and the tang of blood hits your senses. “We’ll be okay. You can let go.” You whisper it in his ear. A tear rolls down his cheek. You want him to let go so fucking badly. You don’t want to do what’s required. What you wouldn’t do for Carter.
His lips move but nothing comes out. It seems to frustrate him. Tears roll down your cheeks. He’s trapped in a body that doesn’t work but refuses to let him go. “Shhhh, I know, Joel. I know.” It’s the same voice you used to soothe your infants. “I love you.”
His hand squeezes yours gently. You give him a nod. He lets his eyes flutter closed. You lay there for longer than you should. It’s selfish, but you don’t think you’ll be able to do it if you don’t take your time. Finally, you sit up. Tommy comes over to say his goodbyes. You’re not paying attention, too focused on what you have to do.
His hunting knife is still strapped to his ankle like it always is. You look it over even though you’ve seen it a million times. It’s big enough. It’ll work. You just pray you can go through with it. Maria joins Tommy at Joel’s side.
“Jesse?” you say. “Will you get a blanket to cover him. There should be a big comforter in the hallway closet.”
You catch the confusion in his eyes. How would you know that? But he nods, following your instructions without questions. You lay the knife on the floor and catch Ellie staring at it. You see it in her eyes. She knows what’s about to happen. You hope she doesn’t blame you.
You can’t meet her eyes as you whisper it out. “It’s what-”
“I know.” She says quickly, her voice still wavering. “I know.”
“Tommy, help me get him on his back. I don’t-“ you choke up. You let the tears flow freely, but you will your medical training to take over. Except, this isn’t fucking medical care. It’s not even fucking palliative care. It’s cruel mercy. You aren’t trained in that. “I don’t think I can do it properly with him on his stomach.”
You, Tommy, and Maria work together to get him on his back as gently as possible. He cries out with each movement. It’s torturous. Each noise comes from a deeper part of his body. You swallow back bile each time. You have to get this right the first time. If you don’t, you’re not sure you can do it a second.
Jesse drops the comforter beside you. It’s the one with little pink rose buds, the one you always used to sleep under the stars, big enough to curl around you like a cocoon even as a grown adult, the one you and Joel picnicked on when you visited last. Your fingers run over it with the memories- so many nights spent under the stars dreaming of the future. It provides you with little comfort now. It's purely practical, thick enough to absorb whatever blood Joel has left in him. More memories washed in blood.
Ellie is huddled in the corner, back turned to it all. Dina is at her side. Maria never takes her eyes off you. Finally, he’s on his back. You unbutton his flannel, use the knife to cut open his under shirt. Deep, dark bruises mare his skin. You can see where they targeted the most. Places to inflict maximum pain and prolong suffering. You focus at the place between his left ribs. His breathing is labored. You hear it with each breath, see it in the rise and fall of his chest. The spot on his chest taunts you, dares you to do it.
You turn to Maria. “As soon as it’s out… cover him with the blanket.” You don’t want to see the wound.
You look at his face. You think he’s unconscious now. You pray he doesn’t feel it, hope his brain has taken him away from reality. Pressing your forehead to his, you tell him you love him again. There’s no response and no indication he hears you.
You steady your breathing. “Ellie?” You look to her for permission.
She barely meets your eyes but nods.
You look back to Joel. You mentally clear the blood from his features. He looks peaceful now. You memorize his face as you know it, not how it appears. You look down at his ribs again. You touch the space and count with shaking hands.
You glance at the 17 year old stain reminding you of the way you failed Carter. You won’t fail Joel. You can almost feel your brother’s ghost at your side, assuring you this is the only option, assuring you there’s truly no chance to save the man you love, and it comforts you. This place homes your best memories and your worst nightmares. You wonder if Joel’s ghost will stay here, pacing the halls with Carter’s or follow you home.
Then you recount the ribs, making sure you get it right through the blur of your vision. You feel his heart beating under your hand, the very heart you’re about to stop. You can do this…
There’s a hand on your shoulder, another on your wrist. Tommy crouches behind you. He takes the knife without a word. His eyes say it all. He’ll do it. You don’t have to bear the weight of it. You should tell him that he doesn’t have to bear it either, but you don’t because the truth is you’re just relieved you don’t have to.
You lay a finger on Joel’s chest. Tommy’s replaces it. “Make sure-”
“I know.” Tommy’s eyes meet yours. You’ve never really contemplated how much they look like Joel’s until now. It’s reassuring. There’s a piece of Joel in him. “Just be with him.”
You nod silently, Joel’s words echoing in your mind. “If it’s something else that gets me… where I’m not putting you in danger… I want the last thing I hear to be your voice. Not a gunshot. That’s all.”
You scoot up so you’re only able to see his face. His hand feels cold under yours. You push his hair back again. Ellie joins you on the floor. You can tell she’s barely holding it together.
You feel Tommy prepare himself behind you. You know when he goes for it, sliding Joel’s hunting knife in with the precision of an expert. You hear it slice through skin and muscle. It’s piercing, playing on repeat in your head. Joel grunts with it, moans once it’s withdrawn.
Tommy drops the knife like it's on fire. Maria settles the blanket over Joel’s body.
Your eyes never move from his face. He gasps, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon. It’s awful. It makes your stomach curl and twist and your chest rattle. You want to curl up and die with him at the mere sound of it. It feels like it will never stop, but you talk him through it. You hold Ellie close to you in one arm and cup his face in the other as you repeat the words from earlier.
It’s okay.
You can let go.
We’ll be okay.
I love you.
You make sure your voice is the last thing he hears… and then finally, mercifully, he stops breathing. As much as your heart throbs, you feel like you can finally breathe again because he’s no longer trapped in a body that won’t work, no longer in pain. He’s free.
You lean down to kiss his cheek. You whisper in his ear. “Say hello to Sarah for me.”
You give it time. Watching his face, finger tips tracing his features. Denial brushes through your mind, expecting him to open his eyes, to smile, to laugh. It doesn’t happen. It won’t happen ever again.
When you stand, it hits you like a freight train. Your breath hitches. You remember this from last time.This can’t happen, not here. You bolt from the room, putting as many walls between you and the others as possible. You don’t care how cold the furthest bedroom- your bedroom- might be, your skin feels like it’s boiling, melting from your bones.
You’re barely across the threshold when the sob leaves your body. It sounds otherworldly, but you’ve heard it before, too many times. You’re all too familiar with it all. When will it end? When everyone you love is dead? Taken from you in different horrific ways each time?
Maria’s arms wrap around you and the two of you sink to the ground. You don’t quiet your mourning for her as it rattles the walls. It’s still not far enough. Your muted cries haunt the rest of the group until your voice gives out.
You stay the night at the mansion. It’s too dark to try and make it back to Jackson. Tommy and Jesse move Joel’s body to the garage where it’s colder. Maria builds a fire in the room that’s not soaked in his blood.
You ignore the curious looks when you navigate the house with familiarity and manage to rummage up new clothes to replace blood-soaked ones. Ellie wears your Fleetwood Mac t-shirt from high school. You used to wear it all the time until you lost it, stuffed into the bin of clothes you never opened following outbreak day. It would be too small for you now, but it layers over the clean long sleeve shirt she found. It’s one of Grandpa’s old flannels for you. You’re thankful you never dug into this bin when you lived here.
Before you leave, you stop under the old oak tree where the small bounder marks Carter’s shallow grave. You promise him you mean it this time when you say you’re never coming back. You’re tempted to burn the place to the ground, but it’s too good of a resting spot for patrol when they get stuck, protected by the gate.
When you get home, you care for Joel’s body. There’s no embalming process. Usually you bury your dead the day after, but the ground is frozen solid. You’ll likely have to wait a few weeks to bury him. He stays in the small enclosed room off the back of the clinic where it’s cold enough to keep him.
It’s after dinner time Monday night when you finally drag yourself up the front steps. You’ve been avoiding it. You don’t want to go home without him.
Carter and Willa play Jenga with Morgan. You’re not sure you can tell them, so you watch your children through the front window. You memorize their smiles and the light in their eyes before this cruel world marks them with its claws. Willa knocks the tower over. She seems to enjoy it. His sweet little Wildflower. 2 months shy of her 4th birthday, will she remember him? Or will he be like a dream? Another ghost that haunts the footnotes of her life? Tears stream down your neck.
“They don’t know yet?”
You spin around to find Ellie. She has dark bags under her eyes, shoulders slumping. “No, I just got home. I’ve been at the clinic all day.”
Ellie nods, peering into the window beside you. The two of you watch as they rebuild the tower and the game starts all over again. “I forget how much she looks like him.”
You manage a smile. “I’m not convinced she has a drop of my DNA in her.”
“Not with that fucker’s genes.”
A laugh interrupts your tears. It sounds so normal coming from Ellie. She wears a dutiful interpretation of her signature smirk. You could hug her, but you don’t. She’s not the most touchy feel y person and you imagine she’s had her full share the past 24 hours. Has he really been gone that long now? Yes. Somehow, it feels like it’s been years, yet you still expect him to walk toward you at any minute.
You go inside without another word. Ellie follows, and you’re thankful for it. It feels right to have her there.
“Mommy!” Willa gasps as soon as you open the door. She runs for you, still dressed in her butterfly costume.
You pull her into your arms, squeezing her tightly. “Hey sweet girl.” You kiss her cheek. You hadn’t realized how badly your arms ached to hold your babies.
“Where’s Dad?” Carter asks.
The question stops your heart. You can hear it in his voice. He knows. He’s barely 10, but he’s seen this in other people so many times before, and he’s put the pieces together. Death isn’t a foreign concept to him. He probably knew the moment he saw Tommy come home with Joel nowhere in sight. Carter keeps space between you. “Where is he?”
Willa squirms in your arms like she's looking for Joel now too. You let her slide to the ground.
“Carter…” You move closer.
He steps backwards. You see the tears sparkle in his eyes bringing out your own. Both your children favor their biological fathers more than yourself. It slices deeper tonight. You manage to steady your voice.
“Dad had a really bad accident while he was on patrol-“
“You’re lying! He has to come back! He always comes back!”
Maybe one day you’ll tell him all of it. Someone did this on purpose, but you don’t know who or why. He’s too young. You won’t have him overrun with the idea of revenge. Tommy is already plotting after the group that did this.
You shake your head, tears falling again. You don’t know if they’ll ever stop. You go to your son, desperate to hold him, but he dashes upstairs, bedroom door slamming behind him. Do you go after him?
Willa’s arms wrap around your leg. You fall to the stairs, placing her in your lap. Your body is exhausted. Ellie sits down next to you. “Where did daddy go?”
You’ve been wracking your brain all day on how this will all make sense in her young mind. “You know how Daddy talks about Sarah?”
She nods. You push back her soft brown curls. The texture has started to change in the past six months. It feels less silky and fine, and more like his. “He said she died, but she watches over us now.”
“Yeah… that’s right-“ you bite your lip. “Daddy went to be with Sarah.”
“When is he coming back?”
Ellie cringes in your periphery. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “Willa… Daddy died. He can’t come back.”
“Not even for my recital?”
“No.”
You’re still not sure she gets it, but you see the tears well up in her eyes. Joel promised her he would be there. He always kept his promises. You want her to know that her Daddy didn’t abandon her, but it’s difficult to get that across. To her, Sarah is an abstract. Joel is concrete. The thought sends a pang through your chest.
“You know how your heart beats?” You put her hand over your heart. She nods. “That means you’re alive, and me, and Ellie, and Carter. We all have beating hearts.”
“I listen to Daddy’s when he rocks me.”
You smile. The vision of Willa and Joel passed out in the rocking chair is one of your favorites. “Daddy’s heart got really hurt.” The slice of the knife echoes in the caverns of your mind. “It stopped beating.”
His wheezing plays in your ears.
“He stopped being alive?”
Joel’s final strangled breath carves into your brain.
You nod carefully. “Yes, once that happens, it can’t be fixed.”
She sits with it for a minute. You see the wheels in her head turning.
“He didn’t have a choice.” You wrap one of her curls around your finger. “He would choose to be alive with us if he could.”
“I miss him.”
She lays her head on your shoulder. You kiss her head.
“Me too, Wildflower.”
On Wednesday night, the seat beside you remains empty, like everyone is purposefully keeping it that way. You’re not sure if you like it. Is it a sign of respect toward Joel? Or are they afraid to be near you? Death comes in threes. It must be contagious.
Carter sits between Ellie and Dina. They were sitting next to each other when you arrived. Carter still doesn’t want to talk to you, but he will talk to Ellie.
The lights dim for the recital. It’s more of a silent movie of sorts. Rachel plays the piano. The music changes throughout the scenes. You spent all last night trying to get a grass stain out of Willa’s butterfly costume. You’re not sure if it was the soap or the tears that removed the last of it.
You reach over on instinct, expecting your fingers to meet a denim clad thigh, but your hand falls to the wooden chair instead. Your eyes drift out the window. You can see the clinic at the end of the street. You know exactly where he lays, even from the outside. Everything around you blurs. You feel pieces of yourself slowly drift into the atmosphere bit by bit.
Maria drops into the chair next to you. She grabs your hand squeezing it between both of hers. “Hey, I’ve got you” The pieces come back, snapping together like a jigsaw puzzle. “Look,” She points. “Willa’s almost up. You don’t want to miss it.”
You’re back, but Maria doesn’t let go. She anchors you. She knows exactly what to say to do it. She’s an expert in it by now. You don’t see the worry in her eyes, the guilt etched in the lines of her forehead. She doesn’t say it, never expresses the guilt she carries over what happened. If only she had asked someone else to take the shift. It’s the second time she’s failed you.
Willa flits and flutters across the stage. In the context of the play, you’re pretty sure she’s actually supposed to be a fairy, but you know that Willa was only interested in being a butterfly. The costume is the same either way.
She breaks character for a moment, loudly telling one of the other kids they are not where they are supposed to be, and then continues on as if nothing happened. There’s the rumble of laughter and Willa wears a smug smile.
You feel a hand on your shoulder, but when you turn to look, no one is there. You can still feel the pressure on your shoulder. Then you hear it just behind your ear, That’s our Wildflower right there. It brings tears to your eyes again.
With one last exuberant twirl the magical fairy, or in this case butterfly, heals the land.
You squeeze Maria’s hand as people stand to applaud. You manage to get to your feet in time to watch your daughter take a bow and then another and another. She’s soaking in the attention. It tugs a smile to your face.
When Willa bounces off the stage, you pull her in tight. “You were so good. I’m so proud of you, Wildflower.”
She smiles brightly. It's a relief in one of the worst times of your life. She gets close to your ear, like she’s telling you a secret. “I think Daddy saw it. I think him and Sarah watched it together.”
You smile back at her. You know they did. “Me too.”
Tag List: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites
@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller
@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#woman (joel miller)#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#pedrostories#pedro stories#ppcu fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction
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i think he knows | chapter three
Summary: Reader and Bucky get caught. Twice.
Warnings: Probably just Bucky smoking. If you think there is any then please let me know so I can add it.
Word Count: 1792
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A/N: Three chapters in one day, who am I? Also, this one hasn't been proofread so there most likely will be typos and/or mistakes.
Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1
You jumped at the unexpected visitor, your heart began to race as you recognized Bucky now standing near your window, in your bedroom. Once again, his signature smirk found its way across his lips. You were momentarily speechless as his scent and aura filled the room.
“Bucky?” you asked, you tried to keep your voice steady and quiet, despite the rush of adrenaline running through you. “What are you doing here?” Rushing over to the window, you pushed Bucky to the side slightly so you could close it along with your curtain. You glanced over to Peter’s bedroom window while you pulled the curtains. You were met with dark brown eyes staring back at you. There was no way that he didn’t see the senior climbing in, or standing right there.
Bucky never took his eyes off you, stepping closer the second you stopped messing with the curtains. “I couldn’t resist,” his voice was low and smooth. “I told you I’d see you around.” Your mind began to race, how do you respond to an unsuspected visit like this? You knew Steve would feel betrayed if he walked back in here. There was a part of you that was torn between the excitement of having Bucky so close and the choice you had made less than two minutes ago.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Bucky,” Taking a step back, you added a distance between you two. “ Steve doesn’t want me to see you.”
You sensed that you just added fuel to the fire Bucky had created as his smirk widened and closed the gap between the two of you. “As far as I can see, Sunshine, Stevie isn’t here. Is he?” Placing a finger under your chin, he tilted your head up to make eye contact with you. For the second time that day, you shook your head at him. “No, just you and me.”
Despite your judgment call merely moments ago, there was no way to deny the pull he had on you. With all the warnings ringing through your head, both in your voice and Steve’s, you still couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull towards him.
“You should go,” you tried to sound firm but your voice wavered. “This isn’t right.” You jolted your head slightly so it was no longer being held by his finger. His expression softened, letting out a sigh while gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Maybe it’s not right,” Bucky admitted, his voice was barely a whisper. You lifted your head to try and get a read on his face. “But, it feels right, doesn’t it?”
You hesitated in your response, you could hear the rational voice of Steve in your head but Bucky’s touch was sending shivers down your spine. It was proving to be incredibly difficult to resist him.
Just as you were about to respond, a knocking at your bedroom door ripped you both from your intense stare out. The knocks were closely followed by Steve’s voice calling your name. You started to panic as you turned to face the door, realizing that Steve could walk in at any second and find Bucky standing in your room.
“This guy,” Muttering under his breath, you sensed a newfound panic coming from Bucky, his eyes had widened and they were scanning the room for suitable hiding spots. Without another thought you hurried Bucky toward the window and gestured for him to climb back down. He hesitated for a moment, looking back at you before whispering, “Goodnight Sunshine.” You replied with a quick, “Goodnight James.” as he started his climb.
You took deep breaths to try and steady your pulse as Steve entered your room, he furrowed in confusion as he took in the sight of you at the window.
“Dinner’s ready, dad’s impatient,” He eyes you skeptically for a moment before, pointing towards the window. “I hope you’re closing that, Mom will go crazy if she smells that breeze.” You nodded in response to him, forcing a smile, you watched as he started to make his way down to the dinner table. Turning back to the window, you watched as Bucky walked his motorbike down the street, catching the moment he glanced back up at your window.
So much for staying away.
~
The next afternoon, you sat in the school library buried beneath a stack of textbooks and sheets of class notes. It had been quiet for the most part, you were focused on your schoolwork, so focused you never sensed someone sitting down beside you.
“Has anyone ever told you your concentration face is adorable?” You looked up to find Bucky sitting in the chair next to you, his face so close you’re almost bumping noses. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, you thought maybe the library would have been your safe space. No Steve telling you what, when, where, why, or how, and no Bucky filling you with both dread and excitement. Yet, here one of them was.
“There’s never been anyone not scared of my brother enough to.” You confessed one of the few things that truly annoyed you about being the youngest Rogers. You watched as a glint appeared in his eyes as he shrugged.
“Your concentration face is adorable.” He spoke with confidence, proving to you that Steve does not instill any fear in him. You couldn’t help but notice his casual glance over your lips as you smiled at his comment. You’ve read enough books and watched enough shows to know what that look meant. Was he going to do it? Now? Here?
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched his head tilt slightly to the side, his hand coming up to hold your cheek just like at his locker. His gaze never left your lips as his smirk once again appeared.
“It feels like we should,” You found yourself melting under his touch, every second that passed with his skin against yours, you felt yourself weakening. Just as you were about to give in to temptation, a throat being cleared broke you from your haze.
Looking up you found Peter sitting back in the seat across from you, the look of suspicion was evident as he looked between you and Bucky with curiosity and confusion. “Pete!” You exclaimed, you tried to keep your voice calm and light but the panic that rose from your chest turned it into a high-pitched squeal.
“Found the book we needed for Bio,” his reply was casual, despite being the only other person who knew about Bucky’s visit last night but not yet knowing why. “Didn’t expect this when I came back.” Using his pen, he gestured between you and Bucky.
A sinking feeling started to settle in your stomach, you knew that you had to explain to Peter what he saw last night. You worried that his suspicions could make this whole thing more complicated than it already was, his loyalty to Steve was also a factor you had to take into account. It wasn’t looking good on your end.
Bucky left shortly after Peter referred to his presence, he didn’t make up any excuses for why he was leaving. He knew he already was risking a lot just by letting Peter see what almost happened. Once he was out of the library, you explained everything to Peter. Told him truthfully about how you were feeling, what happened the night before, and what he had walked into.
~
You decided that morning that you wanted to stay back late and use the library to study, Steve offered to wait back for you to drive you home but you declined. He had plans with Sharon that night and didn’t want to keep them waiting. The town was small enough for you to walk home and get there way before dark anyway.
The hallways were empty now, your footsteps echoed as you found your way toward the exit. Just as you walked out of the front doors of the school, you were greeted by Bucky leaning against the wall of the steps with a cigarette hanging from his lips. For a split second, you found yourself thinking about how you’d like to be that cigarette. Your cheeks flushing at the thought.
“What are you still doing here?” You asked, looking around the almost empty parking lot. You admired him as he walked down the steps and used the bins provided to put out and dispose of the cigarette. He motioned toward his bike with the helmet he carried in his left hand.
“Noticed you didn’t go home with Steve, or, leave with that Wanda or Peter you hang around with, so,” Once again, he gestured toward the bike. “Guessed you were still at the library and in need of a ride home.” Surprised as was an understatement, you couldn’t grasp onto the idea that this person, waited almost two hours extra after the last bell to offer you a ride home. You still hesitated to accept, you had never rode on a motorbike before. Everyone was quick to explain to you the dangers of driving and riding them from a young age. Also, it would be Bucky driving and someone could see you.
“I, I don’t know,” Your newfound stutter had made a return as Bucky stepped closer to you, handing the helmet to you while taking your textbooks.
“Come on, Sunshine, it’s late,” He sighed as he started to walk through the parking lot. “I promise I’ll get you home safe.”
In that moment of uncertainty, his words offered a sense of reassurance that allowed you to nod in agreement with him. You put the helmet on as you walked, clipping it into place, you realized that he only had one with him. He lifted the seat to reveal an area for your textbooks to hide, but still no helmet.
“Woah, what are you doing?” He exclaimed, reaching out and placing a hand on top of the helmet, stopping you from taking it off further. “We’ve got to make sure that pretty head of yours is protected.” Moving his hand down to your chin, he clipped it back together.
“But, what about-” He gave you a stern look, placing a finger over your lips to cut you off. Once he knew you wouldn’t protest anymore, he helped you climb onto the bike. After he explained some basic safety rules to you, the engine began to roar. The unfamiliar vibrations startled you, wrapping your arms tighter around Bucky’s torso.
As you clung onto Bucky, you pushed aside your doubts and let yourself enjoy the thrill of both riding a motorbike and being alone with Bucky.
---
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#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky fic#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#high school au#bucky barnes x rogers!reader#bucky barnes x you#i think he knows#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x sister!reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader
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Something Rotten
Pairing: Dark!QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess
Words count: 4300 (more or less)
Rating: + 18, absolutely NSFW. This shit is triggering, read the tags carefully and please if your a minor don’t interact.
Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut, heavy degradation, kidnapping, reader is tied to the bed with a rope, mention of strong painkillers, depressing thoughts, both Joel and Tess are EVIL, mention of offering sex in exchange for protection, Dub-con/non-con (well, she’s into that and I made sure to say that she’s deeply aroused but still), no kindness whatsoever, face slapping, being threatened with a gun and knife, blood, wound (Tess writes a word on Reader's body with a knife), pussy slapping, tits slapping, oral (m receiving), deep throating, scissoring, slurs (whore, slut), pet names (honey, baby, pet, kitten), mention of Robert (you know that prick at the beginning of the series who makes Tess get beaten up? That's him. but anyway he is the least of the problems in this thing), ripped panties, orgasm denial, cum eating, hair pulling, reader has hair that can be pulled, no other description of her is given, I think it’s all but I will be sure to add anything I may have forgotten as soon as I can.
A/N: Happy Halloween! This is indeed a nightmare of a fic LOL
Ok, enough, I'm getting serious again. I know it’s a lot, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with those kind of things. I've never written anything like this before, it was a test for me because those who read me know, I'm usually very soft. I've started writing the second part if anyone wants to read it, I preferred to publish this first because it was getting pretty long (And I honestly want to see how this one goes before I continue lol). Sorry if you find any errors, I hope there aren't too many. I don't have a beta, I reread it but my eyes are exhausted at this point 💀 (English is not my first language, you know that, right? lol)
Again, no one is obligated to read but I wanted to thank those who provided me with the songs I listened to while writing this: @magneticecstasy @hoelaris @lovely-vamp-princess @baronessvonglitter @whocaresstillthelouvre and @almostempty for having called together her trusted connoisseurs 😎, you all are truly amazing ♥️ (Something Rotten is a Placebo song I added between your amazing music advices).
Playlist can be found here.
(While we're at it, if anyone would like to be tagged on my fics in the future, let me know, thank you very much!)
Thanks to anyone who reads this!
Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️
“Now what should we do with you?” Tess’s voice is sharp, with a smug undertone.
“Maybe we should get rid of her.” Joel is just as blunt, smiling wickedly as he watches you shake like a leaf.
There’s obvious disappointment painted on your face, as well as fear of what these two might do to you.
——————————————————-
You know Joel and Tess, everyone in the QZ knows them, at least everyone trying to make ends meet like you.
They’re the most skilled smugglers and also the most ruthless.
No one would want to have them as enemies, but you, due to circumstances beyond your control, just tried to steal some of their supplies. You heard they had just left the Qz to stock up, apparently they know someone outside.
You thought you were safe. Turned out you were wrong, they came back sooner than you expected.
You wouldn’t have made such a bold move if it weren’t for the fact that Robert died, killed by Tess, as far as you know.
You and Robert had a relationship, if you could call it that, he gave you protection in exchange for sex. You didn't like Robert, to be honest, guy was a piece of shit himself, but he was the lesser evil. He was generally stupid and driven by his dick rather than his brain so it was pretty easy for you to please him and make sure he kept you safe from the unrestrained FEDRA soldiers, who are anything but devoted to rules and discipline, and you never lacked food while you were with him, much more than some people in this seedy Qz had.
Batting your eyelashes and giving him head every now and then was enough to have what you needed.
Robert was a gun runner, people feared him, everyone except Joel and Tess who thought he was an incompetent and arrogant moron.
They weren't entirely wrong but everyone in this shithole of a place survives as best they can.
You should have relied on your own strength from the beginning but when you arrived here you were so tired, hurt, heartbroken from having lost all the people you cared about that leaning on someone seemed like an acceptable compromise.
You were desperate again after losing Robert, so hungry you barely remembered how food really tastes.
You snuck into their room, cursing your stomach that was growling loudly. You held your breath as the door creaked open to reveal a rather bare, makeshift mini-apartment. No one was there, so you tiptoed around looking for something edible. You noticed a floorboard that was a bit off. Bingo.
You lifted it up and found a stash of dried meat, along with several bags of pills and a gun.
You took some pills that you recognized as strong painkillers, just in case you might need them.
Your hand shook as you pulled out the plastic bag full of dried meat, your stomach giving you no respite.
And just as you were about to take a bite, you heard some noises.
Shit.
You looked around nervously for a place to hide but to no avail. The bed was resting on bricks and barely rose from the floor, too little room to slide under. There were no closets, no dressers or anything.
Shit.
You were screwed.
The footsteps you heard were getting closer and closer and in a total panic, not knowing what else to do, you cowered behind a couch, the dried meat still in your hand while the pills danced in your bra.
You were certain that you would be discovered in no time.
Your heart was pounding in your chest, a cold sweat was breaking out on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut in prayer even though you’ve never been a religious person.
Tess saw you first. “What do we have here?” she hissed. Joel caught sight of you next, your head awkwardly poking out from behind the couch.
Stupid stupid stupid.
“A thief,” he stated coldly, as he tugged at your jacket and pulled you out of your hiding place. Tess looked you up and down as you stared at the floor, terrified.
——————————————————-
“What the hell were you trying to do?” she asks you ironically, as if it makes her laugh. In fact, you feel ridiculous for even thinking you could get away with them, it would have been wiser to stay hungry while waiting to earn some cards.
Now you’re in troubles.
Big troubles.
You wanted to get the gun, but you couldn't and now you're standing in front of them, unarmed and scared as the barrel of Joel's gun is grazing at your cheek.
“I asked you a question,” Tess points out, “you better answer it.”
Joel hands the gun to Tess, tears the dried meat out of your hand and shove your arms behind your back, holding you tightly by your wrists, while Tess glares at you.
The gun is now before your eyes, shiny and threatening.
“I… was hungry” and then quickly add a “I’m sorry” that barely escapes your lips.
“So you’ve been working out this brilliant plan?” Joel teases, his deep voice giving you goosebumps.
After Joel suggests taking you out, Tess remains silent for a while, looking at you like a piece of meat “She’s pretty though,” and an even more chilling smile spread across her face, “fuck, you’re too pretty for being a rat”
“Yeah” Joel agrees “here’s a tip for you, honey, if you wanna screw someone try not to let your stupid ass show”
They exchange another knowing glance that doesn't bode well and Tess finally speaks “we could have some fun.”
Guided by self-preservation and fear, you widen your eyes and exclaim, “Oh no, please no!”
Tess places her hand under your chin, manipulating your face like a puppet, turning it left and right to inspect it. “You’re not sick, are you?”
You remain silent and after a few seconds you feel her open hand land on your cheek and an unbearable burning sensation spread across your skin.
What you feel immediately after is the cold steel of the gun under your chin.
“See, she doesn’t like it when people don’t answer her,” Joel whispers in your ear, adding more shivers to the ones already shaking your body.
You open your mouth, struggling to get out some sound. “No” is all you can say.
“Good,” Tess hisses. Joel’s grip on your wrists shows no sign of loosening and your cheek hurts like hell.
There’s no way out.
“Since you were stupid enough to try to sneak in, from now on you will stay here.” Tess announces to you, with a voice that does not allow protests “And you will be our little toy”
She runs a hand over your neck, goes down to your breast and squeezes it hard over your shirt “Do you understand?”
“Yes” you whisper immediately, fearing another blow.
You don’t have enough strength to rebel, you are weak while they are incredibly strong, your head is spinning and you are one against two.
To make sure you don’t get any weird ideas, Joel ties you to the bed. He runs a rope between one of the bricks and the frame of the bed, chuckling evilly, “I’m sorry honey, but I have to, your little head is too imaginative to let you loose in here.” The way he looks at you it’s disturbing, licking his lips in anticipation of what he’ll do to you that night.
He’s not sorry at all.
He can't wait to use you as he wants.
His gaze is intense and dark and you feel like he can get under your skin and read your every thought.
Tess controls Joel's moves, gun still in her hand and when you are completely at their mercy, lying on the bed, with the rope that at most allows you to turn on your back, she bends down to look at you, running the cold steel of gun on your face. You feel tears stinging your eyes as you look at her "oh come on don't do that, after all it's always better than breaking your delicate back with those shitty jobs, right?"
Her mellifluous voice makes you furious, does she think she did you a favor? You would like to spit in her face, on that cold and evil face of hers but you don't.
You can’t.
There's no point in trying to fight back, they'd kill you.
You know that.
They both go off to who knows where and you stay there, waiting, unable to do anything else.
________________________________
It’s the dead of night when the door creaks again and they come back in. Your wrists hurt, you feel stiff, exhausted even though you’ve done nothing but lie there, consumed by fear.
Tess is the first to approach “so kitten, have you been good today?” she coos wickedly and pats your head just like you’re her pet.
You feel a blind rage fill you as she calmly sits on the bed and takes off her boots.
Joel sits on the other side, takes off the dark blue denim shirt he is wearing and unlaces his combat boots.
You are lying on your back now and you crane your neck to watch them.
It’s incredibly frustrating for you to realize that both of your kidnappers are gorgeous.
Tess has a cold beauty, long dark blonde hair framing her face, her lean body reveals itself before your eyes as she takes off her clothes.
She has several scars scattered across her back and arms that make her look even more dangerous, adorning her skin like battle wounds. Battles that somehow she has always won. She’s feral as a lioness and as wicked as a demon.
You never knew you were into women but looking at her right now you can’t deny to find her attractive.
Joel on the other side is tense and nervous as a violin string, rippling muscles and large calloused hands, messy hair and a scruffy beard covering his cheeks.
Your eyes are drinking in his figure, glaring on his broad shoulders, strong neck and plush lips.
He’s definitely the most handsome man in the QZ.
He too has several wounds that blend into his olive skin, giving him the aspect of someone who cannot be argued with in the slightest.
In the little time you have already spent together, however, you have noticed how he bends to Tess's will, as if he were a guard dog always on alert to protect her.
Tess is the brains, Joel is the arm.
He's placed a large switchblade on his pillow, there to remind you that you have no escape.
They are both in their underwear, their clothes lying on the floor. Tess orders Joel to untie you, the rope slowly loose on your wrists as Joel warns you “you better not make a single move or you will regret it, slut”. His voice in your ear is terrifying, bouncing around in your head like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.
“Good girl” Tess praises you briefly while you remain still, before ordering “undress her”
Joel unceremoniously removes your jacket and shirt, throwing everything on the floor. He unhooks your bra, brushing his fingertips along your back, and you shiver imperceptibly.
As your bra comes off, the pills you’ve hidden inside fall onto the bed, rolling onto the blanket. Tess shakes her head, squinting “What are those? Didn’t you say you were hungry? Do you need pills to feed yourself, you little whore?” her voice is like ice and the blade of the knife abandoned on the bed is suddenly at your throat, held by Joel.
Your voice breaks into tears as you try to justify yourself. You try to say that they are only for you, just painkillers, you’re not a drug addict, you won’t sell them, you won’t try to ruin their business.
“Pfff and we should believe you?” Joel scoff, laughing from behind your back, tugging violently on your arm and sliding the blade on your skin.
“I-please”
You don't even know what to say anymore.
"Stop whining, it gets on my nerves” Joel warns you as he slightly dig the blade into your cheek, scratching you just a little, just to let you taste the flavor of iron.
“You'll be a very good pet for us, won't you?” Tess whispers leaning close to your ear and running her fingers along your arm.
Tears now roll freely down your cheeks. She wipes away a tear and licks its salty taste from her thumb, pleased.
“Yes, I’ll be good I - I promise” you sigh.
“You certainly will be, if you don't want to taste Joel's knife.” He grins behind you and leave the switchblade on the sheets.
Your bra joins the other clothes on the floor as Tess squeezes one of your nipples between her fingers. She isn't gentle, she isn't delicate, her hand is firm, demanding, her fingers calloused.
After all, she isn't one to back down from a fight and everything about her shows it.
She pulls, pinches and twists, treating your nipple as if it belongs to her and she can do whatever she wants with it, looking you straight in the eye, intimidatingly, without even flinching.
Joel is still behind your back, sitting on the bed and he reaches for your hips, his large hands enveloping them and his fingers pressing hard into your flesh. He leans down and runs his tongue all the way up your spine, going up your shoulder and biting hard where it joins your neck. You cry out. You know it will leave a mark on you, his teeth tattooed on your skin.
Tess slaps your tit when a moan slips through your lips at the sensation of having Joel sucking hard on your skin, leaving more marks on your neck, his beard scratching you.
“You fucking like it, don’t you, pet?” She teases.
You can’t say anything, a stinging pain spread across your chest and you wonder how strong she really is despite her slim figure.
Joel detaches from you and Tess makes you lying on the bed again, unbuttoning and tugging down at your jeans, leaving you in nothing more than your ridiculously worn panties, they’re so old they’re basically see through but it’s not like you can have something fancy in the QZ.
She spots a wet stain right in the front and she smiles fake sweetly, you can still see the evil in her ice cold eyes.
She takes the hem and just rip them off, exposing your bare cunt.
You gasp and try to gather your hands in front of you for covering your privates but you can’t, Joel is still holding your wrists in a dangerous grip.
She laughs at your clumsy attempt “darling, rebelling won't do you any good, I thought I was clear before”
“Please,” you whisper, “please let me go. I didn’t steal anything in the end, I’m never coming back.”
“No,” she says firmly, “no. Do you know why? You don’t mess with us, you don’t even try. You have a lesson to learn.”
Her fingers run over your leg cold. You don't have time to beg again as another slap hits you. "Poor little girl, didn't your mother teach you manners? We'll have to think about it ourselves." She says, pursing her lips.
She slaps your cunt.
You throb.
And you’re wet.
You hate every cell in your body that is getting sexually aroused by them.
Your brain says no, but your body isn't following suit and you can't really explain it.
What was once pain is turning into a creeping, crawling tingle that runs under your skin.
Back in the days you had a boyfriend that used to fuck you roughly and you liked that but you certainly never thought to be aroused by people holding you captive.
It’s insane.
She lifts one of your legs up high, holding it tightly by the ankle as Joel brings your arms above your head on the bed and his grip continues to secure your wrists.
“Um, look at you. What a delicious wet pussy.” Tess coos.
Joel grunts at the sight “such a needy slut”
Tess positions herself between your legs and begins to rub herself on your pussy.
She doesn’t care a bit about treating you like a person, making your joints ache for the unnatural position, one leg impossibly strained with her grip and the other one straight on the bed with your thigh hurting under her weight.
You’re their muppet now.
The friction between your pussies makes you feel ashamed at first, you've never done it before. With each thrust of Tess on you, however, you begin to feel a heat enveloping your lower abdomen, going straight down to your clit making it sensitive and swollen.
You’re excited, as much as you hate to admit it.
Tess is wild, she’s claiming your body like a predator does with its prey, her small and perfectly shaped tits are bouncing in the air, nipples pink and hard.
You're biting your lip hard, holding back the moans that try to escape from the back of your throat.
You don’t know what came over you but wouldn't mind sucking on them .
You look up at Joel who towers over you, his gaze glassy, fixed on your pussies slamming together making the most obscene sounds you've ever heard, like a squish on loop, wet and slippery.
Tess looks at you, her face twisted into an evil grimace as she groans and curse.
You're trying to control yourself in every way but your body responds, you feel a rush of pleasure flooding you. Fuck. It's like your brain is leaking out of your cunt.
You’re gasping under Tess.
Your hips move trying to seek more friction.
Hot tears stream down your face as you moan. You can’t believe how fucked up this is.
“Oh yeah, baby, go ahead and cry, be a pathetic whining mess, we don't give a shit. Your whore pussy is ours now.” Joel growls.
He moves in front of your face, his large hand covers your cheek completely and squeezes it hard, pinching your skin mercilessly before giving you a slap. You feel an unbearable heat radiating on your skin, you haven't even moved your arms even though he has let go of his grip.
“You’re just a plaything,” Tess echoes, “and you’re enjoying it, aren’t you, little scammer?”
Tess grinds against you relentlessly, she reaches down and twists your clit with two fingers and a wail of pain breaks from your lips.
You feel delirious under her ministration, her body takes what it wants from you and there's nothing you can do to stop it, on the contrary. Your nipples are so pebbled they look like little rocks on your chest, your cunt so sloppy and wet that your cream is lasciviously trickling on your inner thighs, you don’t recognize yourself anymore.
Tess comes above you, callin names and stuttering angrily.
You whine again and Joel barks “it’s time for you to shut up, slut”
He pulls down his boxers with a dark look and an incredibly devious smile plastered on his face. His cock is right in front of your eyes, semi hard, he spits in his palm and starts fisting it, up and down his length. It’s thick and swollen, more big than you expected.
His angry red tip almost touches your lips, he reaches for your jaw and pulls it “open wide, slut” he orders. Your lips are pressed together, you try to resist, but Joel takes a handful of your hair, pulling hard.“I. Said. Open. Wide.” punctuating each word with a stronger tug.
You can’t help but doing it, he’s basically tearing off your hair while Tess is still having no mercy of your cunt. She moves on the sheets and she stick two of her fingers in your cunt, up to the knuckles “Jesus, you’re fucking soaked baby, such a good slut”
Joel forces his cock into your mouth and begins to push inside you until he reaches the back of your throat, not letting you get used to it, your cry is muffled by your lips tightening around his shaft. His taste spread across your tongue as he moves abruptly into you, in and out of your lips. Your mind is fuzzy, you try to breathe from your nose but all you can feel right now is the aching of your jaw and the way Tess is scissoring her fingers inside your hole. They have no mercy and you’re madly aroused with it.
It’s not like you’re expecting something good from life at this point. Life isn’t gentle anymore, you lost everything a long time ago, you’re just trying to stay afloat biting off what you can and expecting nothing but bites back until the day fate or destiny decides it's over for you.
You don't know if there's a hint of what they call Stockholm Syndrome in all this but here you are, willing to be free use, for them to ruin, right on the verge of losing your mind. You’re pliant and hungry now, sucking on Joel cock like a good meal after a whole month of starvation, you’re reaching his balls with your hand, massaging and squeezing it lightly. Tess is watching you and she doesn't seem happy with the way you're trying to be, her hand lands again on your pussy, heavy and cruel, right on your clit.
“Oh don’t be too much of an ass kisser, I never liked them. And don’t do anything until we tell you to”
Joel grunts deeply as you let go of his ball “fuck I liked that though” and he grabs your hand back “since you like it, touch it, you dirty whore”
Tess rolls her eyes and slaps your pussy again and again until you feel your skin burning and you know you're about to come, your muscles are tense and your legs start to tingle as well as the bottom of your belly.
Tess understands and stops. “Oh, one more thing, you come if and when we decide.” A moan rises from deep in your chest and vibrates on Joel’s cock.
“Keep sucking” Joel urges you groping and squeezing your tits.
You move painfully up and down his length, him holding the back of your skull. Tess watches you, studying your reactions, a hint of jealousy in her eyes as Joel continues to thrust into your mouth, urging you “like this, little bitch, keep going - OH FUCK”
You can feel your cunt throbbing, screaming for a release.
Tess is giving you occasional kitten lick, so soft and so evil at the same time ‘cause you’re right on the edge. It’s a torture, an unbearable struggle that you can take anymore. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, your clit swollen and sore, you’re feeling delirious and you’re not allowed to come.
Tess picks up the knife again and you feel it slide across your inner thigh, it’s cold on your sweat-beaded skin and it makes you shiver. It rises dangerously close to your center, her evil eyes obsessively following the path of the blade. A sharp smile spreads across her face as she begins to sink the tip into your flesh, just enough to scratch your skin. You’re choking your whines on Joel’s cock as you smell blood in the air. It feels like she’s writing something, her trajectory is meticulous and careful, she pulls the blade out smiling again, satisfied with her work.
“Here you go, now everyone will know what kind of whore you are. If you ever get out of here”
She runs her tongue over what she just branded into your skin, your body shakes, your back arches insanely seeking for that delicious line between pain and pleasure, it’s stinging and soothing at the same time.
Joel is spilling inside you, his cum invading your mouth, painting your tongue and sliding warm down your throat. His face is red and sweaty, he's gritting his teeth, his neck is tense, his merciless hand holds you still clinging to your neck, he looks like a wild animal ready to devour you.
“Swallow it all, bitch” And you do it, you have no other choice. And you like it. You like the feel of his vein pulsing against the roof of your mouth, the heat and weight of him on your tongue, his musky flavor. It distracts you from the pain spreading across your thigh.
Joel only pulls out of your mouth when you've licked it clean.
It’s softening but it’s still the biggest cock you’re ever had.
He whispers in a hoarse voice that you are a very good little pet, smiling at you nastily, his big hands filling with your breasts, calloused and heavy, your nipples still hard under his palms.
Tess chuckles “yeah, she’s not that bad. And she’s a real fucking slut, aren’t you, honey? Your pussy is hungrier than your stomach”
You don't answer her, you are enraptured by Joel's dark and lascivious eyes, naked and helpless on the bed, branded like a cow, stupid and drunk on sex.
Your mind is no longer thinking clearly.
They both lie down on the bed to catch their breath, leaving you naked and sore at the foot of it, like a rag doll.
You never imagined this would happen to you when you came in here. And then, when they found you, the first thing you thought was that they were going to kill you. You're still here. Exhausted, in pain as you stare at the ceiling, sweat cooling on your skin.
You wonder how long it will last, where they will dump you when they get tired.
You're still alive anyway, that's enough.
There is definitely something rotten in you. You want to get up and see the word Tess wrote on your thigh but you are not brave enough. You trace it with a finger, shivering with pain, feeling your skin pull and pinch where it is starting to heal. If your touch is right it says “pet”.
#joel miller#tess servopoulos#dark!joel miller#dark!tess servopoulos#joel miller x afab!reader#joel x afab!reader x tess#dead dove do not eat#evil!joel#evil!tess#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#joel tlou#pedro pascal characters#joel miller tlou#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x you#joel fanfic#qz!joel#qz!tess
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dry house, wet clothes (two)
𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, two
pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun
genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)
warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, groping, smut tags will be added when it applies. big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry
word count. 10,247
plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.
other's mentioned. mark lee, dong sicheng (winwin), na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck (haechan), kim jungwoo
author's note. saying mark is just mentioned isn’t doing him justice, mark lee is just as much a part of this as the three main characters. here’s part two, enjoy!
taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno
playlist. here !
Johnny was waiting for you under the marquee.
“Hey you.” His fingers wrapped around a single white rose, “For you.”
You took it, “You got me a flower?”
“A white rose.”
“I see that.”
He titled his head and pointed, “Do you know what it means?”
“The rose? No.”
Johnny told you, “Innocence and new love.”
“Love again, Johnny?” Pretending to wince, you turned from him and started towards the doors, “This is slowing down your two week time frame.”
You could hear him laugh, his feet padding against the concrete, and then Johnny was standing right next to you. He grabbed the door handle with one hand, ushering you in with the other, “Maybe. But, I have to establish that this is a date and not just us hanging out.”
You looked at him, only briefly, over your shoulder, “I know it’s a date.”
Johnny stepped into the line of people waiting for tickets, hand still on your back, “Do you?”
“Do you?”
He grinned, “Of course I know it’s a date. I’m the one who asked.”
“Not that.” The flower twirled between your fingers; innocence and new love. The weight of the knowledge that Johnny had much longer to process any changing feelings was heavy. Throughout the day, that weight only grew and settled on your shoulders like it was taunting you, dragging out your every move. It was fine enough to joke about it, but the reality of an actual date coupled with kisses you wished wouldn’t end and a single white rose made you pause. You looked up at him, that look that look that look he gave you was hypnotizing, dizzying, different but still nice. So, you clarified, “Do you love me?”
It was enough to make Johnny pause, too. It was enough to make him look away from you in thought. You wondered if it was enough to make him feel the same kind of weight that you did, but you guessed not when he shrugged, “I don’t know.”
For some reason, his answer didn’t settle like it should have. It didn’t bring you any sort of ease or comfort, it almost stung. He was so sure, as always, as promised. You weren’t sure you even wanted him to love you, because the question was still up for debate if you could love or even romantically like him.
The line shifted, you both followed, “Then let’s make a deal. We don’t mention the word love until one of us - either one of us - knows.”
Johnny agreed, “Okay. Deal.”
The line shifted once more, and again, and again until you two were at the counter. Johnny got the tickets, handing yours over and settling his hand on your shoulder, this time, to lead you towards snacks. After a moment of silence in the concession line, Johnny told you, “I could, though. I won’t mention it again, but I could.”
“You could what?”
“Love you.” He squeezed your arm, stepping up to the counter and leaving you behind him. You waited for him to order and pay, fiddling with the flower and staring after him. Johnny was back at your side, passing you a bag of popcorn and leading you away again before adding, “But, I promise I won’t bring it up anymore. We’re theater five, right?”
You nodded; an acknowledgement and a confirmation in one gesture. Johnny stole some of the popcorn, both of you weaving through the crowd, and that was that.
The movie was fine, better than the night before. You wanted to tell Jaehyun that Johnny could, in fact, pick decent movies. The thought, while Johnny’s fingers were laced through yours, made you still. The thought, while Johnny kept you close and led the way through the crowds of dispersing movie goers, made you shiver. The thought of Jaehyun while Johnny smiled down at you and rubbed gentle circles onto the back of your hands made you feel so incredibly guilty.
You begged your mind to stop, if only for the night. Begged your mind to take note of your feet, where they stood, and ground you there. You pleaded with the thoughts, asking them to slip into the shadows and respect where your body was; standing next to Johnny, holding the rose in between your hand and his, wandering through a park in comfortable silence.
“What’s on your mind?” Johnny bumped you with his shoulder, your steps were perfectly lined up; he was taking smaller strides to match you. It didn’t go unnoticed, “You're up in your head. I want to be selfish and remind you that you should be on Earth. With me.”
You looked at him, maybe in complete awe, because, “That’s exactly what I was thinking about.”
Johnny stopped and tapped your forehead, “Then get out of there.”
You laughed before nodding up at him, “Okay, I’m back.”
Johnny laughed, too, “Can I ask why you were stuck up there?”
“You want me to get stuck again?”
You couldn’t tell him. Of course, he did not and could not know that. Johnny shook his head, “Absolutely not.”
“It’s just…” You twisted your lips in thought, nose scrunching and eyes searching for an answer in the park benches, cobblestones, trees and wilting flowers around you, “It’s still a lot to take in, you know?”
“You keep saying that.” He was giving you that look again. You wondered how many identical looks, just like that, you’d missed in the last six months; wondered if noticing them would have changed anything, “Is it too much?”
“I don’t think so. It’s only been twenty-four hours.”
“So, time will help?”
“Time will help.” Johnny licked his lips, likely tasting the lingering movie theater butter. You followed the path of his tongue, maybe too focused on something you’d never considered before. Then, you asked him, “Have you always kissed like that?”
Johnny couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, head tilted towards the stars and his hand flat against his stomach, “As far as I know, yeah.”
“Damn. If only I had known that sooner.”
He raised an eyebrow, “How much sooner?”
“Hm.” You twirled the rose, now hanging loosely in your hand, alone, “Remember when you tried to kiss me under the mistletoe?”
“Which time?”
“The first time. At the winter dance.”
“That far back?” Johnny mimicked shock, leaning back and widening his eyes. He quickly shook his head, “I don’t think I was that good, back then. You had a pretty good reason not to, anyway.”
“Oh God. Don’t bring that up.”
“Don’t bring up what?” He was taunting you, he always did. Johnny started walking again, waiting for you to catch on and catch up, “Don’t bring up Sicheng?”
“I’m begging you.”
“Dong Sicheng.” He mulled over the name, his steps wide, but slow. Like he was walking to a beat only Johnny could hear, “That breakup was brutal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry like that.”
You laughed a bit, though it was rooted in truth, “He broke my heart, Johnny.”
Johnny laughed too, “He extended his exchange program for as long as they’d let him. What was he supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. Not move back, I guess?”
“But if he hadn’t moved back, you probably wouldn’t be here with me, now.”
You shook your head, eyes scanning the ground and your feet and anything but Johnny, “Nah, I don’t think we’d still be together.”
From the moment Dong Sicheng walked into the room, you thought of nothing else. To say you were smitten wasn’t doing your unadulterated infatuation any justice; Sicheng had felt the same. It was a completely different feeling than you’d felt in your adult life, maybe a feeling you’d spent time chasing. It was different, even now, with Johnny. If the girl who had fallen in love with Sicheng was in your current position, she’d have no trouble devoting all her attention to Johnny.
It just wasn’t the case. Age, maturity, perspective or conflicting feelings - whatever it was - changes everything.
Johnny stopped again, breathing out a quiet, “Wow.”
“Wow?”
“In a world where Sicheng didn’t leave, you think you’d still be here? On a date with me?”
You smiled, but shrugged, “Probably.”
Johnny clicked his tongue, “Huh.”
“You’re very convincing. Really good at it, actually.” It suited Johnny to be that way; his encouragement had taken the four of you on a lot of adventures. Even so, even with Johnny pushing you to step out and step up and do something wild, he never did so in a way that felt uncomfortable or forced. You knew him, just as he knew you. All Johnny ever wanted was for people to feel comfortable and welcome, “Also…”
“Also?”
“I trust you.” The smile Johnny gave you when you said that conjured up a butterfly to find a home in the pit of your stomach, like you’d said the most wonderful thing imaginable to him. You faltered a bit, focusing back on the rose, “What?”
Johnny had found a comfortable position leaning against a tree. His arms were crossed over his chest and that same look stayed perfectly on his face, “I know….look, you and I never really speak so deeply. Not without a lot of jokes and not one on one, like this. But, I just want you to know how much that means to me.”
“What? That I trust you?”
He nodded, “Also that you’d pick me over Sicheng.”
“Oh my God.” Your eyes rolled back, amused but imitating annoyance, “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.” He paused, “I’m serious, though. It really…means everything to me.”
“Can I ask you something? In the spirit of talking seriously?”
“Go ahead.”
You let out a held breath, calming the newly formed butterfly and seeking out courage, “If this doesn’t work out…if we try and it goes wrong or it just doesn’t go right, will we still be friends?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t hesitate. You didn’t expect him to, but it still rattled the butterfly into a frenzy, once more. A smile crept onto your lips, a sense of security you had been seeking for the last twenty-four hours or more. The worst thing that could result from this was losing Johnny; losing any of the three of them, really. Knowing he’d still be around eased your mind, a pinch.
“Good.”
He stepped towards you, “But, can we make another deal?”
“Mhm.”
“Try not to think about it ending before it’s even started, okay?” Johnny’s eyes looked directly into yours, unblinking and shining and warm, “Give me as much of a chance as you can. If you need me to pull back, just tell me. But, don’t think of the end just yet. Can we do that?”
You wanted to blink, the fall wind nipping at your eyes. There was a part of you that was afraid to; afraid to blink and miss this moment, maybe blink it away entirely. You kept staring, your smile growing wider as you nodded and scrunched your nose, “Deal. I can do that.”
Johnny waited a moment before he leaned closer, lips hovering over yours. He watched out, carefully and quietly, and asked in a whisper, “Pull back?”
You didn’t answer him, not vocally. Instead, you closed the distance between you and kissed his lips.
📻
It was the same every weekend. The four of you would find your way back to the loft, one by one, after a week of working and, for Mark, classes. You’d mingle and laugh and review the events of the week. You’d drink and dance and stay up well into the morning, like you were all still teenagers. Eventually, you’d melt into the same, familiar pile on the mattress; a mess of intertwined limbs, pillows and warm blankets. The stars would shine above you and you’d fall asleep, counting them and counting breaths and holding onto the moments of silence in your favorite place.
You were the first to arrive this week.
The loft was impossibly still, leaves slipped off tree branches and bounced across the panes of glass; scraping and sliding and slipping away to the ground. You lost track of time, sitting there with your hands in your lap, headphones whispering your favorite tune just for you, watching fall sweep away any traces of summer. Time always moved too fast, outside of the loft, it slipped away like the leaves. But, inside, wrapped in your favorite blanket, with your favorite people, in your favorite place, everything slowed down.
You felt nostalgic and eager all at once.
Every inch of the loft held a memory, but every night spent here built more and more on top of those memories, making it impossible not to cherish every minute.
Jaehyun came after you, startling only for a second seeing you in the middle of the floor. You smiled at him, he smiled back, but you didn’t move or take your headphones out. Jaehyun just joined you, leaning close enough that he could hear the music, too, and staring at the same leaves, the same gusts of wind, the same remarkable nothing you’d been looking at.
It was easy to be silent with Jaehyun. It had always been. The two of you had perfected communicating in glances, in pointed looks, in shrugs and in smiles. So, in those moments where you felt something would be, should be, could be said but you failed to find the right words, you’d look to Jaehyun. You would stay silent and he would know exactly what you meant in the way you blinked, the tilt of your head, the slump of your shoulders.
You’d do the same for him, always always always.
You’d always have your eyes on Jaehyun, in case he needed to say something without saying it. In the moments he needed to be heard while staying silent. In the moments Jaehyun needed to be read. The thought reminded you how hard it had been to read him, less than a week ago. The corner of his lips, so close to you now and perfectly in view, was taunting and daunting and upturned.
Jaehyun looked at you. You didn’t know when you’d stopped watching the leaves and turned your attention towards him, maybe when the woman in your ears crooned, softly, “And I said, I love this boy so much.” Maybe it was the way she repeated it, four times, and how you were almost certain Jaehyun could hear it.
But, even if he could hear it, even if he was listening, would he ever really hear what she was saying. Would he ever feel the moments when you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking in his. Would he ever feel the way your heart beat when he held you close and urged you to sleep, truly sleep. Would Jaehyun ever feel any of it? If he did, would Jaehyun feel the same. And, if he did, would Jaehyun ever do anything about it.
You blinked, slowly altering your expression before he caught on and it worried him, “How was work?”
He had tossed his jacket to the side when he came in and loosened his tie around his neck, three buttons as well. He looked intentionally disheveled and tired, but he always looked like this, come Friday afternoon.
Jaehyun only shrugged, pulling one of your earbuds out and putting it into his own ear, “It was fine. Did you finish your book?”
“No.” Your tongue threatened to spill the secrets of your week, the reason you were behind on work and hesitated to answer his calls, text him back, even think of Jaehyun. Johnny. You had to hold yourself back from telling Jaehyun I spent a fair amount of time making out with Johnny. Looking away from Jaehyun, down at where your hands flirted with the idea of touching, you sighed, “I was really distracted this week.”
Jaehyun almost asked why, but his stomach twisted into knots at the potential answer. Since Sunday, since you told him Johnny confessed, you two had never addressed the subject again. Things went back to normal and Jaehyun convinced himself that because you hadn’t asked for his input, it meant you’d come to a conclusion on your own. He hoped the conclusion was not to date Johnny and he hated that hope. Johnny was perfectly fine, Johnny knew you, Johnny would no doubt take care of you and Jaehyun had watched you date other men before. He had managed just fine, then.
This time felt exponentially different to him. To both of you.
Jaehyun didn’t want to believe what he knew to be true; he was jealous that, if you decided to date one of your friends, it wasn’t him.
He didn’t want the clarification, he didn’t want to know more unless he had to. So, Jaehyun wouldn’t ask. He’d stay silent and he’d behave as he normally would; he’d hold your hand and hold you close and Jaehyun would tell you everything he could without saying it outright. He wouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t ask a thing.
In stopping his question, his lips failed to block his statement. Something he couldn’t tell you with a look, a smile, a sigh. A simple observation, as he watched you, “You look really beautiful, right now.”
He meant it. The sun had formed a halo around your head as it slipped behind some clouds, closer and closer to setting. Your cream colored sweater hung loose on your body, Jaehyun guessed it fit like that because it wasn’t your sweater, to begin with. It could’ve been his, maybe Johnny’s, he was almost certain he’d seen Mark wearing that same sweater two weeks ago when the weather first shifted. Either way, it suited you; the color, the fit, the halo of light. You did look truly so beautiful to him.
So, he meant it. And he said it. And Jaehyun didn’t really try to take it back or hide it, because the way you smiled at him before looking away again was enough to stop his heart. It was enough to make you glow even more, if possible.
You smiled and opened your mouth to say something once, twice. The only thing that came out was a laugh, one that Jaehyun echoed.
“Hand.” Jaehyun turned his palm upwards, holding his hand out to you. You took it, you always took it, you would always take it, “Tell me about the book.”
You sighed, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder, “It’s so….boring.”
His body shook with another short laugh underneath you, and it was impossible for you to keep your own laugh at bay. Jaehyun asked, “What’s it about?”
“Not a clue.” You peeked at him, taking in what part of his face you could. The way his hair was pushed away from his face, covering the tips of his ears. He’d kept it long since the spring, it suited him, “I’m sixteen chapters in, out of forty-three, and I have no idea what is going on.”
“Who wrote it?”
“Mm, someone named Lee Donghyuck? His pen name is Lee Haechan.” You let out a short groan, focusing on your hands in his lap, “I feel bad, it’s his first book. He’s younger than Mark and it’s not that he’s a bad writer, I just….”
“You’ve been distracted.” Jaehyun repeated. He was right. He still didn’t know why he was right, you still didn’t want to tell him. So, you both stayed silent for a moment, “Clear your head this weekend. Start over on Monday.”
“And if that doesn’t work? My deadline is in two weeks.”
Jaehyun thought for a moment, wind shook the windows and the song playing for the two of you stopped, a different tune following immediately after, “Read it to me.”
“Read the book to you?” He only nodded, hand still firmly in yours, “You don’t have to do that, Jae.”
“I want to.”
“You’re really going to hate it.”
He shrugged his shoulders, a second time since he’d been home. Jaehyun looked down at you, with his recently unreadable expression, “Not if you’re reading it.”
It was so easy for him to make your heart stop and it was even worse that he didn’t have a clue that he did it. You sat upright, leaning away from him again and listening to your music too intently; the world outside of the loft, moving at the speed of light, suddenly seemed more interesting. Like you’d rather be standing in chaos, overwhelmed, than sitting so close to Jaehyun that he might hear your heart falter or stop all together.
“What are we going to do tonight?” You asked, picking at the blanket on your lap, “Did we have a plan today? I know Mark wanted to go to the park tomorrow. I guess there’s a busking thing he wants to go to.”
Jaehyun shrugged again, the third time, “I don’t think there’s a plan, but the fridge is empty from last weekend. So, someone is going to have to go on a grocery run.”
“I can do that.” Johnny said from the door. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, still in his white shirt and black pants from work. He smiled at the two of you, dropping his pack on the floor next to Jaehyun’s discarded jacket and tucking his hands into his pockets, “Who wants to come with?”
Mark came up behind him, “I don’t want to go. I’ve been walking all day.”
The youngest flopped down on the mattress, spreading out as wide as he could. You had been smiling at Mark, half listening to Jaehyun tell Johnny he didn’t want to go but he’d pitch in. The album you’d been listening to had looped and reshuffled and repeated, playing the same song. When Jaehyun turned to you, to ask if you wanted to go with Johnny, you could hear her again, “And I said, I love this boy so much.”
Jaehyun heard it too, clearly this time and not muffled. If he visibly faltered, you missed it, but he could feel his heart flip in his chest at the way you looked at him, at the way his breath caught. His mind split in two; he let himself find a new hope that maybe that look was because you were thinking of him and choked down the thought that it could have been Johnny in your mind. Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you thought of him when you listened to these songs or if you thought of Johnny. The woman singing hadn’t even said the line a second time before Jaehyun composed himself, but that split second felt like a lifetime of the two of you looking at each other while she sang something only you two could hear.
Jaehyun cleared his throat and said to you, “You’ve been here the longest, you should go with Johnny.”
Christ, the last thing he wanted you to do was go with Johnny. Jaehyun somehow made himself say it, made himself calm and collected and remained grateful that his hair was covering his heated ears. You nodded, standing and adjusting your clothes, your hair, fidgeting to avoid thinking.
You circled around the thought that it seemed so easy for Jaehyun to encourage you to be near or with Johnny and that, maybe, he would never feel what you did.
Jaehyun pulled out his wallet, handing you his card, “You know the code.”
You mumbled, “Yeah.” Then put out your other hand for your earbud. Jaehyun stared at it for a moment before he remembered. She was singing, longing and breathy, “I want to get to you” when he pulled the bud from his ear and dropped it in your hand. You smiled and looked at Johnny, “Is it cold out?”
He shrugged and wiggled his hand in a noncommittal gesture to answer, “You want my jacket?”
Johnny had started to squat, reaching for his bag. Jaehyun stopped him, telling you casually, “Just take mine. It’s already out.”
So, you did. You slipped it on and held your breath as long as you could to avoid breathing him in. Mark was all but passed out on the mattress, Jaehyun had busied himself on his phone and Johnny was opening the door for you to step out onto the rooftop of Jaehyun’s childhood home. The two of you left, without a word. You changed the music playing in your ears, something more upbeat, and offered Johnny the other earbud. He took it, took in the music and took your hand, twirling you down the street. It was like the spin pulled you out of your head, the counteracting swirls of thought and movement clashing enough to pull you back to Earth.
That’s where Johnny wanted you, dancing down the street with him to a song you both knew. That’s where you should be, where you wanted to be. Still, you looked over your shoulder up at the loft. It was surrounded by clouds, a cool-toned sunset forming behind them. The loft was floating above the rest of the world, hovering over you and Johnny and the street you danced down. If Jaehyun was watching, you couldn’t see him and maybe that was for the best. Maybe it would allow you to be the version of you Johnny deserves; the one Sicheng got in the sense that Johnny suddenly had all your attention. Here. On Earth.
And the grip he had on your hand, loose but leading, helped pull you back down to the ground.
“Smart move.” Mark’s voice was muffled by the pillow he had smushed his face against, but Jaehyun heard him well enough, “Give them alone time.”
“Huh?” It was simple enough to play dumb, especially when Mark was barely awake and not looking, “I’m just too tired to walk to the store.”
Mark didn’t answer, already snoring as soon as he’d stopped speaking. Jaehyun waited until he knew you were a safe enough distance away to look down at the street. Johnny had your hand in his, swinging it wildly and pulling you in and out of spins, dips and lifts. Jaehyun felt like he was watching you from the clouds, watching you live a life separate from him. He’d always been right there with you, grounded on Earth at your side. Instead, he was floating above and watching.
He hated the feeling more than he could ever say. But, he urged himself away from the ledge of seething anger, uncontrollable jealousy, when he saw you turn around and look up at the loft. When Jaehyun saw you looking up towards the clouds, up towards him.
So long as you did that, you’d tug on his heart to hope.
📻
You weighed the options in your hand, the fluorescent lights of the corner store shining down on you and the two bottles of Soju in your hand. Johnny had wandered off to another aisle, some time ago, finishing up what you came here to do. You could hear the clank of glass bottles and his voice before you saw him at the end of the aisle, leaning against the shelf and smiling at you, “God, I really hate when people do this?”
You didn’t look up, “Do what?”
“When they don’t put things back where they go.” Johnny took five long strides to get to you. He sighed, as obnoxiously as you imagined he could manage and mostly to get your attention, “Like why is there a snack in the drink aisle?”
“What?” Finally you looked up. The expression on Johnny’s face was pride, if you had ever seen it. Still, you looked around the aisle expecting to see a wayward bag of chips or a misplaced candy bar. Johnny pointed directly at you, still as proud. You groaned with realization, putting one bottle back and stepping around him, “Please get away from me.”
Johnny laughed, the sound breaking the silence in the otherwise quiet convenience store, “That was clever. It took me the entire walk to and from the chip aisle to come up with that.”
“Do people still say that? Snack?”
“It was appropriate for the setting.”
He was following behind you, bottles tapping against each other in the basket, “I’m going to start keeping a tally of the corny things you say.”
“What’s the breaking point?” He asked, coming up beside you, “For the tally?”
“I don’t know yet.” You couldn’t help but laugh, tucking your shampoo into the basket and turning down another aisle to head towards the cashier. Johnny followed, once more, “Maybe ten.”
“Ten, huh?”
“Six?”
He paused, “Wait a minute. What do I lose if I get to ten?”
“Maybe six.”
“What do I lose?”
You shrugged, “I don’t know that yet, either.”
“So, it’s an empty threat?” Johnny leaned in, nose close to brushing yours, “That’s not gonna stop me.”
“It should.” You kept walking, greeting the cashier and waiting for Johnny to pile everything on the counter. He watched you pay, handing Jaehyun’s card over and politely thanking the cashier for what Johnny counted was the third time since you two had been in the store. He followed you out, nodding his head in a bow to the employee and carrying two of the three bags. You looked at him, over your shoulder, “Come on.”
He smiled, didn’t say anything for a while, but walked faster instead of trailing behind. He didn’t mind the view from either point, but Johnny did think it was important for him to note and for you to know, “You look beautiful.”
You didn’t hesitate to say, “Thank you.”
You didn’t shy away from Johnny or look down at your hand, the bag in it or the ground underneath it. You just accepted it as he wanted you to. Johnny thought you looked beautiful and it was as simple as that. He nudged your shoulder, “You look better in my jacket, but you still look good in Jae’s jacket and Mark’s sweater.”
“I thought this was your sweater?” Your eyebrow raised, lifting the fabric as though it would tell you the answer, “It’s Mark’s?”
Johnny didn’t answer, “Did you wear what you thought was my sweater because you knew you were seeing me?”
Immediately, your cheeks were burning and your mouth dropped open. The answer was not consciously, no. But, since Johnny had pointed it out, you felt only slightly shy. You tilted your head up, looking for a distraction in the stars and any breeze to cool your heated face. You could hear Johnny laugh, then heard him rustling his two bags just to your left before you felt his hand slip into yours. His lips were close to your ear when he said, “You look even more beautiful when you get flustered, like that.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, “Yeah. And, before we get too close to the loft and go back to pretending this week didn’t happen…” He didn’t sound bitter, but his words still nipped at you. You wanted to not want to pretend, but finding your footing in this was hard enough. Adding an audience would make it harder, especially when Jaehyun would have a front row seat. You looked up at Johnny, all the same, hoping you knew what he was about to ask. He pulled you to a stop, looking down at you and smiling, “Can I please kiss you? It’s been three days.”
“Oh no. Are you feeling….” You bit back a quiet laugh at your own joke, “peckish?”
To say Johnny looked offended, to say he looked shocked, wouldn’t do his expression any justice. He dropped your hand to hold his heart, “Do I need to start keeping a tally, too?”
“For what? You said I’m a snack, you want to kiss me.” You scrunched your nose, too clever for your own good, “So, obviously you’re feeling peckish.”
“You get to be corny but I can’t?”
Once more, your shoulders lifted in a shrug, “If you did it in moderation, maybe.”
“I’m going to kiss you, now.”
“Okay. Peck away.”
Johnny’s lips on yours was the furthest thing from a peck. It took your breath away immediately, eliminated any wit or snark or simple thought from your mind until all you could do was move your lips against his. You wondered if you had forgotten, in the last three days, what it was like to kiss Johnny. If maybe restraint had wiped your memory of it clean. But, this felt so different from what you remembered. Johnny kissed you like he might never get to again, like you were slipping away from him, like he was going to stop and you’d be gone. You’d never be able to know why, but it felt too good to dwell on the thoughts that might unravel the truth.
Johnny’s hands fiddled with the bag in yours until he’d taken all three of them in one of his hands. He broke away from you only to place them gently on the ground, enough time for you to stand breathless but never to catch your breath. He pulled you closer, flush against him and tucked away in the limbo between street lamps. His hands held your waist, slowly inching down and down and down until he stopped to ask you, “Pull back?”
You shook your head, but you both had your eyes closed. So, you breathed out, “No.” The sound caught in your throat, barely making it past your kiss-swollen lips.
Johnny’s hands fell to cup your ass, bringing you even closer if it was possible and pulling a moan out of your lips. You could feel him smirk, feel that prideful look creep back onto his face. The only sound was his breathing, your breathing, the rustle of the bags in the wind and the wet sound of your lips and your tongues together, together, together.
“Johnny.” His name on your lips sent him spiraling; sweeter than any treat he’d been given, any candy, cake or chocolate Johnny had tasted in his life paled in comparison to that sound. He groped at you, another moan that sounded almost as sweet, “Fuck.”
“Are you okay?” He was panting, kisses slowing but never stopping, his eyes still closed, “Do you want me to stop?”
Your instinct was to say no, maybe pull him down the alley that would lead to your house instead of the loft. Johnny, in his truest form, was urging you to be reckless and wild and out of any comfort zone you’d been in. But, you pulled back and told him, “We’ve been gone too long.”
He still didn’t open his eyes, forehead against yours while he caught his breath, “Give me a second.”
“Okay.” You held into him, giving him support to gather himself while he did the same to you. You kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck, tugging on his hair while your mind screamed for you to stop. To pause. To slow down. Your body took longer to listen, Johnny’s as well, “We should go.”
His breathing had evened out, Johnny pulled away. If you looked anything like he did, you’d give yourselves always as soon as you stepped foot into the loft. You adjusted Johnny’s collar, he fixed your hair. You smoothed down his hair, he wiped away the smudged mascara on your cheeks. Johnny turned and picked up all three bags, offering you his hand. You held it only until you reached Jaehyun’s street, offering him your earbud once more but opting for walking instead of dancing.
You both broke away, him spinning you out and dropping your hand, as you rounded the corner and came into view. It didn’t stop the glances between the two of you. Your heart fluttered with the secret of his lips on yours, his hands on you, the sound of his whimpers and moans. If you had ever told yourself you’d been in the position with Johnny, at any point in your life, it would have been almost impossible to believe.
But, looking at him looking at you, feeling the heat rush back to your cheeks at your most recent memory of Johnny’s lips on yours, you might have started believing in impossible things.
It felt nice.
📻
The sun took time to come up; unfolding itself from lingering and new clouds, rolling itself over the tops of buildings and filling the loft - inch by inch - with light. You watched the particles of dust dancing in the sunbeams for a while, softly twirling Mark’s hair. The strands coiled around your fingertips, having curled and twisted more as he slept. Johnny’s chest rose and fell underneath your head, somehow you had shifted further down in the night. You could hear his heart beating, even and soft.
Jaehyun was to your left, as he always was, hand in yours and snoring softly. His head was turned towards you, lips almost pressed against your exposed shoulder - Mark’s sweater was too hot to sleep in. You could feel Jaehyun’s breath, the moment it shifted from steady to short, waking breaths. He blinked a few times, taking in the morning, taking in you. Just as he had the week before, exactly a week ago. Jaehyun squeezed your hand and smiled, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, you wanted to scoot closer. You wanted a reason to be closer to Jaehyun. You didn’t dare move too much, didn’t dare wake up Johnny and Mark, “My head hurts.”
He reminded you, “We drank too much.”
You recalled bottles falling to the floor, not shattering but landing with percussive taps on the wood. Friday nights to Saturday mornings were always the hardest transition. You pulled your hand from Mark’s hair to cover your eyes, shielding them from the sun coming in. Behind your palm, the memories of music, of laughing, of dancing played. The four of you were scrambling to match your movements to each other so whatever you were doing, chaos disguised as dancing, seemed choreographed. It came in flashes; some quick and clear, some blurred and warped.
“Who fell asleep first?”
Jaehyun looked up, through his mussed hair and over the top of his pillow. He nodded towards your own pillow, “Johnny did.”
You said, “He has to make breakfast, then.”
“I’m not making breakfast.”
“You’re awake?”
Johnny grumbled, “You talk too loud.”
“We were whispering.”
He tapped the top of your head, urging you to lift it. Johnny stretched up and out, his arm landing between your head and Jaehyun’s for a moment. He rolled away from the pile, coming to sit up on his knees, “Mark technically fell asleep first.”
“He was napping. It doesn’t count.” You turned your head as much as you could to look at Johnny. He was watching you with a sleepy smile, hands pushing back his hair. Next to you, Jaehyun closed his eyes, fingers tapping against the back of your hand. You smiled back at Johnny, “Wake him up to help.”
“You’re not going to help?” It wasn’t a pout, but it came close. Johnny yawned, head falling back, “Fine. Mark, wake up.”
From his place, nuzzled against your stomach, Mark grumbled, “No.”
“We have to make breakfast.”
“No. You have to make breakfast.” He settled himself in more, reaching up for your hand to place it back in his hair, “You fell asleep first.”
Five minutes of bickering and bribing before Mark pulled himself up and away from the mattress. You and Jaehyun stayed, hands still together. It took a moment for the morning to sink in, the quiet of it without your music and without any other noise than your breathing. You’d spent more time being conscious in the daylight, today, than the three of them had, but Saturday was still just as fresh to you. The sun, having rested from the week, was refreshed and kissed your skin in a way it only did on the weekend. The air felt different, the silence felt different.
Maybe it was the way your head was pounding, maybe it was the way you needed to ground yourself again. Maybe the alcohol from the night before had yet to wear off. Either way, whatever reason, you rolled onto your side to face Jaehyun. When he looked back towards you, turning his attention away from the sky and focusing on your body next to his, you pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes.
Jaehyun smiled, his dimples diving into his cheeks, his nose creasing at the bridge. If you had seen it, you might have melted. He took you in, really took you in; your chest rising and falling, the small smile tugging at your lips, how your hair had come loose from its hold in the night. You’d been restless in your sleep again. Jaehyun kept pulling you back down and towards him in the moments you shifted or squirmed.
It always seemed like the natural thing to do, the natural progression of things in your relationship. The shared birthday parties that lead to sleepovers that lead to tracing constellations on your skin that lead to silent conversations that lead to an understanding of each other that was impossible to breach. It was natural.
Without much thought, without a word, Jaehyun pulled back to press a kiss on your forehead. He was quick to put his forehead back against yours, back where you decided it needed to be on a fall, Saturday morning, “Bad dream?”
You didn’t answer, you didn’t need to and your tongue was tied in your mouth, so you didn’t think you could. Instead you held your breath and shook your head, slowly. Jaehyun lifted his other hand, smoothing down your hair before resting it on your arm. After a moment of soft circles on your skin, he scooted himself closer to you. You moved, too, closing the space. The natural progression of things.
“I’m so hungry.”
He secured you in his arms, “They’re probably destroying the kitchen.”
“I don’t want to help.”
Jaehyun breathed out, “Me either.”
You could hear the soft hum of music from two floors down, the clattering of pots and pans and Johnny instructing Mark on what to do. Only fifteen minutes had passed when it was all interrupted by the sound of smoke alarms blaring. You opened your eyes, finally. Jaehyun blinked at you, you blinked back. Both of you sighed, pushing yourselves up and pulling apart. It was decided, in two blinks, that the two of you didn’t have a choice but to help. A silent conversation, a natural progression. So, you stood and Jaehyun handed you his sweatshirt he’d changed into, last night, to keep you warm from the loft to the kitchen.
Johnny saw you first, a smile on his face as he popped a grape into his mouth, “Mark burnt the pancakes.”
“Of course he did.” Jaehyun laughed but was quick to help Mark. The youngest was pushing something around in a pan, brow furrowed in a mix of concentration and confusion, “Go mix more batter.”
Mark backed away, “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Mark.” You told him. He knew, of course. Mark adjusted his glasses, taking a spot next to Johnny and reaching for the whisk. You put your hands on Mark’s waist, stepping around him, “Look out.”
Pushing open the window over the sink, you ushered the smoke filled air outside and hoped it would quiet the alarms. It didn’t. So, grabbing a kitchen towel, you went down the hall to the detector, stood on your tiptoes and fanned the air around it.
“Here.” Johnny’s voice was directly in your ear. You could smell the oranges he had been cutting, the scent breaking through that of burning batter and smoke. His hands held onto your hips and Johnny lifted you up, slightly, so you were closer to the ceiling, “I’ve got you.”
The beeping stopped, he lowered you down, “Thanks.”
He told you, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
Johnny kept his hands firmly on your hips, asking, “Do you have your phone on you?”
You nodded, “Yeah, why?”
He didn’t answer, but took the kitchen towel from you and took a step down the short hallway, still looking at you, “Do you like this song?”
Since you had been downstairs, the music had been too soft under the shrieking alarm, the clatter of pans and spoons and bowls, Jaehyun instructing Mark from a distance. The sounds had all mixed together until one by one they were eliminated. Now, it was just the music, twisting around the corner and coming down the hall from where Johnny’s speaker sat on the counter. He watched you, taking in the song for the first time. After a moment, you nodded your head.
“It’s nice.” You decided, “Why?”
Johnny didn’t say anything after that, he only nodded back and turned completely to walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. You could see him stick his hand in his pocket, pull out his phone, tap something on it and then put it back. And you probably should have predicted it, but you still jumped a bit when your own phone went off in the pocket of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt. Your eyes rolled back, taking it out and taking a few steps, “Johnny, what the fuck? Just tell me…”
You stopped yourself, only in his line of sight for the time being. The message on your phone made your heart skip in the way his smile had been, the way his kisses did; that secretive tingle that rustled butterfly wings to flight in your stomach. Johnny watched you, every second you stared at your phone - only a few, but long enough. You faltered between a smile and neutrality, tapping on the link; a playlist of about thirty songs, the title of it was simply your name.
Finally, you looked up at Johnny. He chomped on another grape, but quickly and silently mouthed, “You’re blushing again.”
📻
“If her sister was bright, shining and vibrant, then she was the sun - so intensely beaming, that nothing could rival her.” You turned the page with a sigh, “He would always dare to look directly at her; happy to go blind if it meant he could be so close.”
Jaehyun had his head on your lap, “That’s the end of the first chapter?”
“It’s the middle of it.”
The blanket underneath the two of you whipped about in the wind, calming and bunching around your legs. Jaehyun pulled it out, smoothing it down again before he sighed, as well, “It’s not…that bad.”
“It’s really not.” Around you, the hum of the busking festival filled the air; guitars and stereos, drumbeats and vendors shouting. It was a chaotic mix of sound and smells and sights. Mark and Johnny were lost somewhere in the middle of it, “It’s just so…”
“Wordy.”
“Wordy.” You agreed, tapping Jaehyun in the middle of his forehead, “And he’s spent almost the entirety of the first chapter describing how perfect she is, which is frustrating.”
At that, Jaehyun shook his head. He kept his eyes closed, settled and comfortable in your lap, but you could tell he was thinking, mulling over the words you’d spent the last half hour reading and deciding on saying, “I don’t think that’s it. She’s not perfect, it’s just how the narrator views her. He’s in love with her, so he sees the best parts of her.”
Leaning back to rest your head on the tree behind you, you hummed, “Does love always mean only seeing the good, though?”
Jaehyun shook his head, “No. But, you’re only halfway through the first chapter and there’s forty-three of them. Maybe the bad will come out.”
You looked at Jaehyun, your fingers tugging lightly at strands of his hair. You watched as he swallowed and his cheeks gave way to his dimples, just for a second, unaware in such a blissful way on your lap, “Have you ever loved someone like that? That they were the sun and you’d willingly go blind looking at them?”
Jaehyun didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes.”
Behind closed eyes, he thought about you the night before; how the sun was blaring behind you, in its final stretch of light, and how he’d stare as long as he could to see that halo of light around you. He could feel you shift underneath him, the way your breathing changed and, for only a second, Jaehyun thought about telling you. He could tell you, he could tell you everything; that it was you he’d stare into the sun for. You were the sun. His heart leapt into his chest while yours sunk to the ground, words weighing heavy on the tips of both your tongues.
You gnawed at your lip to keep questions at bay; who was it he loved so much, why had he never told you? Who filled him with the same warmth as the sun, who made him burn? You kept your eyes down, watching Jaehyun and how the sunbeams slipped through the sparse leaves to dance across his face. You didn’t have to stare into the sun for him, the sun followed Jaehyun wherever he went; lighting him up perfectly in front of you.
Still, you looked up. You heard leaves crunching behind you and you looked up, towards the sun, following two pairs of feet until you saw him; Johnny. Surrounded by light, beams hugging the outline of his body and wrapping him in light. His smile was radiant, “There you are.”
Jaehyun opened his eyes, shielding them from the bits of light breaking through the Johnny-and-Mark shaped barrier. He watched you, the way you willingly looked up at Johnny through squinted eyes, despite the sun. Jaehyun was reminded of your conversation almost a week ago and he cursed himself for claiming support. Maybe he always would. Even still, he sat up, wiped his palms on his pants and scooted away from you.
Jaehyun looked up at Mark, not glancing at Johnny, and asked, “Did you guys find food?”
“Here.” Mark handed over something in a paper boat, plopping down on the blanket next to you while Johnny stepped around the blanket to sit next to Jaehyun, across from you. Mark bit at a french fry, smiling and bobbing his head to distant music, “It’s fun, right? I didn’t expect it to be so big.”
“I don’t think any of us knew what to expect.” Johnny handed you a drink from the carrier looped around his wrist. He looked at Mark with a teasing grin, sipping on his own drink, “You're really bad at explaining things.”
Mark’s mouth was full, “I am not.”
Jaehyun smiled, joining in on teasing Mark, “You called it a “busking thing” and it’s a whole festival.”
“There are buskers!” The youngest defended himself, “That’s what the flyers said.”
Johnny sipped on his own drink, “I almost expected a bunch of your college friends to just be…out here…busking.”
“Why would they do that?” Mark’s eyebrow lifted, his head tilted, he looked identical to a puppy. He almost always did; curious and kind and excitable. But, right now, confused, “Renjun is a linguistics major, Jeno is engineering and Jaemin switched to philosophy last semester. I don’t think any of them have an interest in music.”
“Mark, that’s not…” Johnny started, then released a sigh, “Never mind.”
Jaehyun moved the conversation, nudging Mark and asking, “Jaemin changed majors again?”
With a nod and quick swallow, Mark said, “I think he was trying to impress a girl. He actually really likes it though.”
You asked, “Isn’t he supposed to be graduating in the spring?”
Mark only shrugged, “We’ll see.”
The conversation settled, a new one swelling like the music and ruckus around you. The four of you, tucked under a tree with sparse leaves, munching and mumbling through mouthfuls of food. Mark mentioned a musician he saw, a dance troupe, an artist. You wondered how he could take in so much all at once, all the time. Mark never noticed one thing at a time, he saw every last detail in the world, or at least the things he loved. So, you would all take turns asking the appropriate follow up questions just to watch as the youngest would light up, answering with as many details as he could spare.
Eventually, you’d all picked at the food long enough that it was all scraps and empty cups piled in the middle of the blanket. Jaehyun and Mark stacked and scooped and gathered the trash, and when they wandered away to get rid of it, Johnny looked at you. The sun bounced off his eyes, or maybe it was mischief. Either way, they glistened and your stomach twisted the way it did when Johnny Suh was about to pull you out of comfort. He stood and offered his hand, wiggling his fingers in front of you, “Come on.”
“Why?” You hesitated, he could see it. So, Johnny shook his hand once more and waited until you took it. He pulled you, upright, “What are we doing?”
Johnny laced his fingers with yours, tugging, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He was guiding you through the crowds before you could argue with him. Instead, you countered, “That’s barely an answer.”
“An answer would ruin it.” He squeezed your hand, reassuring and comfortable and before you knew it, Johnny stopped, “Dance with me.”
In the middle of the food stalls, all of the organized chaos halted at a dance floor. Groups and couples and individuals twirling, spinning, stepping to the beat of the music from the booth in the corner of the floor. It was Johnny's turn to watch as your eyes sparkled, mouth open and breaking into a smile. He tugged, once more, at your relaxing hand, securing his hold on you to pull you onto the dance floor.
You didn’t have time to tell him no. You didn’t have any desire to tell him no, either. You followed Johnny and stopped when he did, and when the music hit your ears, you fell into step with the crowd and the music and him.
Both of you laughed, half shouting and half singing the lyrics you knew. You spun in a circle around yourself, Johnny countered by circling you; like a planet falling into orbit around the sun. He just watched you and smiled and he was happy to, as long as you looked like that; beaming, blissful, beautiful.
Johnny was caught in his own mind, then, remembering the moment he felt something new looking at you. A moment identical to this one at a party that was like any other, a party Jungwoo had thrown one insignificant day in April. Jungwoo had been fired and he was upset about it and that was a good enough reason, he guessed. A party where you danced like this, with Johnny, in Jungwoo’s kitchen, while everyone else talked or drank or played board games.
Just the two of you in the kitchen.
Johnny was caught in his memory, how his heart swelled and his lips went dry thinking of what it would be like to kiss you. He wavered in and out of past and present, reminding himself that he now knew what that felt like. He’d do it now, if he could. He’d lean down and kiss you, hidden by the crowd and caught up in the music.
The memory pulled him back, thinking of how you’d pulled him in, melted against him, thrown your head back and laughed. Johnny could still feel the vibrations of it against his chest; the vibrations that kick-started his heart after it had paused taking you in. He had said to you, “You’re so drunk.”
“Maybe.” You had laughed, broad grin pulling at red-painted lips, “But I also love this song.”
The sound of your voice cracking, singing a high note in the song, brought him back to the present. You laughed, he laughed and clapped his hands, stumbling back a bit. Your hands caught his arms to pull him away from knocking into someone else and kept pulling until he was against your chest. Once again, you melted. Slower this time, not encouraged by alcohol and restricted by too many eyes. Johnny smiled down at you, “I really want to kiss you.”
“Yeah?” Your voice came out quiet, eyes moving from his to his lips, back to his eyes. You said, again, “Yeah.”
“I shouldn’t, right?” Johnny swallowed, “Not here?”
Part of you wanted him to, still you agreed, “Probably not.”
Johnny said, “I like you.”
It still took you by surprise; as though you didn’t know, as though he hadn’t been telling you, consistently, for a week now. You blinked and tried to breathe, because you might have liked Johnny too, just then. In a different context, but the same way he meant it. You liked kissing Johnny, you liked dancing with Johnny. You liked when he took your hand, when he pulled you safely through crowds, when he smiled at you the way he did. You liked a lot of things about Johnny, so eventually, you might like him, too.
So, in that moment, you said, “I might, too.”
And Johnny grinned. Exactly how you hoped he would, he grinned. Not expectant and not teasing, but shining and pleased, “I can accept might. Might is….really good.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to dip you.”
You shook your head, words mixed with a laugh, “Absolutely not.”
“I think I should.” If you were going to reply, Johnny didn’t care or account for it. He ignored you. You wished he wasn’t so good at that. Johnny had his hands around your waist and he leaned you back, swiftly but carefully. It felt more like a stumble for the first few seconds. His hair covered his eyes, he licked his lips and told you for the second time that day, “I’ve got you.”
And you said, “I know.”
Johnny pulled you back up, tucked you safely against him at the edge of the dance floor; at the edge of the world. A world that was spinning, wildly, around the two of you while you stood completely still. Melted like that unsuspecting night in April.
Johnny said your name, you looked up at him, “I want to take you on another date.”
You hummed, following as he swayed the two of you, “You want to take me on another date?”
“That’s what I said.” His voice was just above a shout, trying to be heard over the music, but you were certain only you could hear him, “Are you free Tuesday?”
Nodding, you told him, “I should be, yeah. What time?”
“The whole day.”
You stopped swaying, pulling back to arms length to look up at Johnny. He seemed shocked, you likely did as well, repeating, “The whole day?”
“I took the day off.” His simplicity, his ease, his certainty came back to taunt you. He guided you into a spin, out and away and mixed in with the crowd. Then, Johnny pulled you back to where you started pressed against his chest, “I want to spend it with you. As much as you can, at least.”
“Okay.” It was easy to agree, the two of you like this. It was easy to look up at Johnny and agree with whatever he said, carried by the music and the energy around you. It was easy and it felt almost right, so you agreed, “I can do that.”
“Good. That’s really good.” He pushed you back, gently and fluidly, like he was starting a new dance. Then, Johnny nodded his head towards the border of the dance floor, “They’re looking for us.”
You followed his eyes, “Ah.”
You saw Jaehyun first, weaving in and out of the groups around the edge. Mark was close behind. Johnny had yet to let go of your hand, holding it for as long as you’d let him, as long as the crowd kept you hidden, as long as it took until you were spotted by familiar eyes. He didn’t mind, really. Johnny didn’t mind having these secret moments with you, not for the time being.
For the last week, all he could hear was your voice saying, “I don’t want to make you feel like a secret.” And he wanted to keep reminding you that he was okay. He wanted you to be okay; with him, with you, with all of it.
He knew it was only temporary. Johnny hoped it was only temporary. He tugged on your hand seconds before Jaehyun finally saw you. Your eyes were back to him, only him, “You look beautiful.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes and tapping your fingers on the back of his hand, “You said that yesterday.”
“I did. I meant it.” He grinned, “And I mean it, today.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll probably mean it tomorrow, too.”
“Thank you, Johnny.”
“I’ll mean it every time you let me say it.” Again, he squeezed your hand. You didn’t answer and Johnny let go, eyes leaving yours to focus behind you, “They’re here.”
Mark was next to you before you could blink. He saw the way your hand flexed at your side, watched Johnny’s hand go into his pockets and Mark smiled, more to himself, “Here you guys are.”
previous. masterlist. next.
#jeong jaehyun#jeong yunho#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun angst#johnny suh#johnny suh fluff#johnny suh angst#johnny suh x reader#johnny suh x you#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun x you#nct jaehyun x reader#nct johnny x reader#nct smut#nct fluff#nct angst
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Pick a song based on a bad description! You do not have to recognize any of the songs to choose them. You're going more for a mood. A vibe. Whatever cracks you up. Roll a d12, maybe. Just pick something and reblog the poll (reblogging is important -- we get a lot of ties if there's not a bunch of votes, so please reblog!)
At the end of the week, I will take all the songs and put them in a playlist, starting with the song that has the least number of votes and working up to the song with the most votes. I will then share the poll around one last time with a link to the playlist and all individual songs. If you would like to hear the finished playlist, please leave a comment or mention it in tags or whatever, and I will tag you when the playlist is finished.
Also, if you're intrigued by a description and you just can't wait, shoot me an ask and I will tell you the name/artist of the song that you're interested in. But like I said, you don't have to know to vote. Go with what you feel in your heart.
#polls#music#playlists#bad song descriptions#chaotic girl summer pt. 1#there will probably be a funkier playlist poll coming out maybe even this week depending#or maybe next week i haven't decided#and yes the gif is a clue but maybe not in the way you think#unless you follow me in which case you can probably guess the song from my old posts#anyway that's all please reblog#and maybe listen to some weird music today it's good for you
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— ✧ red (k)nights
pairing. xu minghao x reader
description. minghao is your knight in shining armor. literally.
tags. smut (18+), so much fluff, royal au, princess!reader, knight!minghao, secret relationship (kind of?!), minghao’s finger pieces from the super mv …
outfit inspo. minhgao's armor is as shown in the pics, his robes are similar to the light brown ones worn in their inkigayo performance, & reader's robes are of similar design to their 2nd outfits in the super mv!
fic playlist.
w/c. 6.7k
a/n. i'm usually not into royal aus or any au in general that isn't modern, but i had so much fun writing this and i think my mind has changed ... so i hope u enjoy! comments/reblogs are always appreciated c:
“You’re upset,” Eunji notes, walking into your room as sunlight peeks through your silk blinds.
Grumbling, you slowly push yourself off the mattress and lean against the headboard as you rub your eyes. The soft browns and golds of your room are starting to sink into your vision as you adjust to the light, murmuring, “You didn’t knock.”
Eunji sighs, patting her hands down on her apron after setting down your black robe. “Your father doesn’t have any rules about walking in without knocking. And besides, you always lock the door if it’s necessary—if it isn’t locked, I assume it’s alright for me to walk in.”
“What about my rules?” you huff, finally slipping out of bed so Eunji can help you slip into your daytime robes.
“I don’t suppose you’re the king?” she responds as you groggily make your way up to her, your nightgown wrinkling at the ends.
“Eunji,” you whine, throwing yourself onto one of your plush lounge chairs in front of her. “I’m too tired,” you grumble when she points at the robe, again, signaling you to put it on.
“You’re upset,” she corrects, lifting the clothes and unwinding them for you as you begrudgingly stand up and slip off the dress, leaving you only in your undergarments.
“He’s still gone,” you whisper quietly, lifting your arms so Eunji can slip in the sleeves from behind you, moving in front to help tie up the flat, golden drawstrings on the front into bows.
“Away. He is away, not gone,” Eunji says with a pat on your shoulders, adjusting the edges and collar of your velvet robe.
“What’s the difference?” you mutter once she’s done.
“The difference is he will be back,” she explains simply, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, let’s get you down for breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be caught making you late for your meal by gossiping about your—” she pauses. Eunji is among three of maybe your only friends in the entire kingdom, yet she still bites her tongue, still holds back. You used to resent her for it, but now you understand it’s only natural—after all, it is her job to take care of you, and being careful is just what she has to do. But right now, Eunji is your friend, not your maid, and what she follows with only confirms that fact—“your boy.”
Your lips break into a bright grin at the mere name—your boy. You should feel childish—Minghao is so much more than a boy. He’s a gentleman, he’s strong, he’s confident—he is so much. But after all of that, after his sword is yielded, after all his armor is stripped, Minghao is yours—your boy.
“Will you let me do your hair?” Eunji interrupts your thoughts, holding up a few hair ribbons from your large vanity across the room. You grimace, shaking your head.
“I feel like I might go bald every time you do,” you tell her. Eunji gives you a stern look and you let your shoulders sag. “Fine, but please be gentle. I’m already under so much stress, I can’t have any more pressure on my head.”
“Stress?”
You shrug, a small smirk poking at your cheeks. “Oh you know. Just my boy.”
Eunji escorts you down to the dining hall after raking all your hair into some tight updo. Wincing as you pick at the ribbons, she scurries off when you sit down to order the chefs to present you breakfast.
“Good morning, Princess,” a familiar voice greets, Mingyu placing down a steel plate littered with an array of fruits. “What would you like this morning?”
You watch Eunji who re-enters as you formulate your response. “I’m not really hungry right now, if I’m being honest…” you sigh.
“Don’t let her get away with that!” Eunji calls out from the other end of the room, and you cross your hands over your chest as she walks over. Mingyu gives you a concerned look, and Eunji continues. “She’s saving her appetite for when she plans to sneak out in the evening!” she says in a half whisper, half yell sort of voice.
Mingyu’s eyes widen when he looks down on you. “You actually snuck out that time? I thought you were just bluffing so you wouldn’t have to have breakfast with your cousins!”
“It was both,” you grumble as you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, but they’re insufferable—the both of them! And then…” your voice trails off, “Mingyu you know your food is great and I love it but there’s this fruit stall down in the civil grounds and—”
“You snuck out for fruit?” Mingyu gasps, stepping back. Pointing at the platter in front of you, he says, “I should have you know these are harvested from the finest farm in the kingdom.” You stick your tongue out at him, glancing at Eunji who is giving you a funny look. Mingyu catches on, and his eyes narrow. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Oh my god—you know I hate being left out of things.”
“You have a big mouth,” Eunji murmurs and you laugh along in agreement.
Mingyu frowns, swiping the platter away from you as you reach for a grape. “Hey! This is no way to treat a princess,” you pout.
“Tell me what’s going on then?” he pleads, and you glance at Eunji who seems to take it upon herself to spill the beans for you. Leaning in, she motions for Mingyu to come closer so you can all lower your voices.
“She went to see her boy,” she whispers.
Once again, you can’t help but let the grin break out onto your face. Your boy.
Fuck, you really miss him.
Him, being the man who followed you many nights ago as you tried to sneak out of the castle grounds. It’d been a boring few weeks and you overheard Eunji gushing to one of the other maids about a festival that took place in the civil grounds.
You’d heard of it before, and even showed up to the festival occasionally over the years, but it was only ever for a sparring moment—to sit and look pretty, wave hellos and goodbyes before you were being dragged back to the castle.
So when you heard that Eunji was planning on using one of her few, sacred days off, you just had to know what was so exciting about it—your temptation exceeded your ability to follow the rules.
Slipping into some old brown robes you used to wear for your dance training, you wrapped a shawl over your head and over the bottom half of your face in hopes to conceal as much of your identity as possible.
You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Or, well, maybe you could. You’d fantasized about this moment for ages, never really having the drive to go through with it though. That is, not until now. Still, you’d played this chain of events too many times for anything to go wrong. You had thought about every possible chance of something going wrong, and right now you were certain that you had planned against it.
Foolproof. Your plan just had to be foolproof.
So when you snuck off that night, when the deep oranges of the sunset turned to red and soon to black, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that things would go perfectly fine. That you’d be able to run through the gardens, through the militia grounds, and into the civil grounds, slip in and out of the festival, and back into your bed before anyone could even realize that the princess wasn’t in her bed.
Silly you for not accounting for him.
Him, being the man who was out in the militia courtyards, donned in his training robes as he read a book under the dim light of a flickering, yellow lantern. Him, being the man you thought wouldn’t recognize your figure as you scurried through the pathway and towards the exit to the civil grounds.
You were foolish, and Minghao was perceptive.
You hardly were in the crowd at the festival for more than half an hour before a strong hand tugged at your wrist. Considering yelling for help, you opened your mouth to scream, but not before a large, warm hand clasped over your mouth, trapping in any noises you made. He was gentle with the way he pulled you to a quiet place behind the wall, and even under the dim, crimson glow from the festival, you’re able to make out his face when he finally releases you.
His face was no stranger to your eyes, as his duties as a performance knight had him on and off palace grounds consistently. Xu Minghao. You remembered the name, and watching the scarlet hues fall on his skin, you were reminded of just why his face has not left your mind—why you recall him, and not any other knights.
The redness casted a sharp shadow over him, sharp jawline seeming further whetted under this new glow. Minghao’s dark and shiny hair hung perfectly to shield his gorgeous eyes from the bright lights from around you, and you find yourself growing mesmerized by the way he gazes down at you so … passionately.
Finally breaking the silence that stuffed the space between you, he spoke, “What are you doing here, Princess?” Unexpected of the concern that laces his tone, you were taken aback, mouth falling slightly agape as you wondered why he chose not to scold or reprimand you.
“I wanted to see the festival,” you finally managed to whisper, tearing your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you to look behind at the celebrations taking place all around you. Minghao studied your face for a few pensive moments before sighing and nodding.
He surprised you again with his next, quiet words, “I can show you.”
Looking up at him with bright eyes, you beamed.
Sneaking out to your “fruit stall” doesn’t work, not when Eunji is on your tail. You huff and puff when she sits you down in your room that night, but then she’s whispering into your ear about how his team will be arriving the next morning.
That night, your stomach churns with the anticipation of seeing him, touching him, holding him. It’s been too long, and all you’ve been left with for the past weeks is the ghost of his touch against yours, imagining it’s Minghao when you hug your pillow every night.
You don't get an ounce of sleep, of course, but when you wake up after dozing off to the bright, morning sky, you feel nothing but excitement bubble up in your stomach. You ask Eunji to dress you in your robe of finest silk, and she grins, feigning ignorance as to the reason behind your request.
“This would look nice, don’t you think?” you murmur, holding up a silver dangling hair pin.
Eunji walks over, inspecting the little accessory you’ve picked out. “I don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this…he’s seen you in much less,” she mutters and you gasp loudly, nudging her shoulder.
“Y-you said you would never bring that up!” you stutter out, placing the pin back down. The that in question being the time you had snuck Minghao into your room one night and forgot to lock your door. That morning, Eunji was met with the side of a bare chested knight and the princess rolling around together under the sheets, the first person to be introduced to your little secret.
Eunji only hums, looking over your array of jewelry. “The gold would look nicer,” she tells you, ignoring your previous exclamation. She lifts a nearly identical hair pin, except this one is coated in gold, matching the shimmering designs on your robes.
You smile and nod, turning around in response so she can put the pin in your updo. As you continue to go about your morning, there’s an extra jump to your step when you make your way to the militia office. Inside is your father’s head officer, Seungcheol, sitting at his desk as he goes through the papers.
“The demo team comes back today, right Officer?” you ask curiously, stepping in.
Cheol looks up at you, eyebrows quirked. “They came back this morning, yes,” he replies, standing up as he organizes some of the papers in a neat stack. “Excited?”
“No, why would I be?” you say, letting your shoulders deflate a little to hide your very real and very true excitement. Seungcheol gives you a cheeky smile as he adjusts his coat.
“You’re not great at lying.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest nonchalantly as Seungcheol walks out of the room, letting you follow behind.
“Really? Your father is picking up on it too. Tell me to tell him how the demo team is doing. Asks me to let him know if there’s anyone that seems … suspicious.”
You scoff, letting your hands fall to your side, “Well he hasn’t said anything to me about it … yet at least.” You sigh, figuring that if Seungcheol already has an idea of what’s going on, there’s no point in feigning ignorance. “Was I being too obvious when I asked for a whole unit to be moved from the battle team to the demo team?”
Seungcheol laughs. “Yes. Your father is definitely—”
“Suspecting?”
“No, that’s not the right word. I think he seems more open to the idea than you might think. I was just going to say he has a feeling you and one of the demo team’s members are … are involved.”
You hum in response, skipping besides Seungcheol as you make your way to the militia courtyard. “That’s good to hear.”
“I guess. Whether your father approves so far or not, tell your boy—” Your heart flutters when Seungcheol says it like that. “—whichever one he is, to keep in line. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to report any bad news back to the King.”
You roll your eyes but don’t respond, walking outside into the field of grass where some soldiers are lined up in neat rows in front of a black, raised platform where you and Seungcheol are supposed to stand. As you near the group of soldiers, your stomach ties up in a tight knot when you catch sight of the familiar face.
Walking timidly up to the platform next to Seungcheol, you place your hands in front of you, playing with your fingers as you struggle to break your eyes away from Minghao. He isn’t looking at you right now—he isn’t allowed to you.
With his helmet drawn by his side, sword sheathed at his back, crimson armor with gold intricacies glistening under the sun, it’s all too much for you—Minghao in his armor is a force of beauty, and one to be reckoned with.
And he’s standing so straight, so tall, his well built figure being accentuated by the sharp curves of the metal that plates his skin and you start to lose track of Seungcheol’s words. It isn’t until he nudges you in your side when you jump up and out of your reverie, only to see him looking down at you with concerned eyes.
“Princess,” he says loudly, and then much quieter, “Are you alright?”
“I—yes, sorry. It’s just the sun, it’s in my face and I lost track of things for a moment,” you lie, looking back at the knights standing in uniform in front of you.
“Do you want to head back inside? You don’t really have to be—”
“I’ll stay,” you say quickly. “What was it I needed to do?”
“Some last words for them. It’s been a long few weeks, so just say something and formally release them for this week.”
Right. That’s why you’re here. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back, causing the men to all turn their attention to you. Finally, both you and Minghao think. Finally he can look at you.
And fuck, you look so beautiful with your hair pinned back and loose ribbons strewn in, your black and gold royal robes hanging effortlessly off your body with the little bows decorating your waist. Gentle fingers clasped in front of you and Minghao can almost feel your gentle touch on him when you speak.
“Thank you for your excellent performances over the past weeks,” you begin to speak, your eyes doing their best to not linger on Minghao too long. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and to express my gratitude, you are relieved of your duties from now until the end of this weekend. Report to your duties the following morning as you would on any regular schedule. Thank you again.” You close with a bow, stepping back and motioning your hand out front as to signal.
“You are dismissed,” Seungcheol calls out loudly, and you see the way the soldier’s immediately drop their shoulders, their gazes averting to each others’ as they break out into loose conversation. Well, all but one. Minghao’s eyes are locked in on yours and you’re finding it impossibly hard to look away.
Looking up at Seungcheol, “Can I go now?”
“Of course. Thank you for showing up. Do you need one of us to escort you back to the castle grounds or—”
You shake your head quickly, eyes flickering to Minghao who is making conversation with one of his platoon members casually. “N-no, that won’t be necessary.”
“Are you sure? You aren’t looking too well. I think it’d be safest if you had one of them help you.”
“I—” you pause, “Okay, I’ll take him,” you say before Seungcheol can make his own decision, pointing at Minghao. Hearing your raised voice, he turns to see your finger in his direction, both you and Seungcheol looking straight at him. Seungcheol looks at you as Minghao walks over, but eventually shrugs.
“Minghao, take the princess to castle grounds,” Seungcheol instructs, throwing you a knowing look. He nods without a word, bowing to you and then his leader as the captain walks away to talk to some other soldiers, leaving just the two of you.
The air is thicker now—it’s filled with all the words you want to say, all the things you want to do, all the thoughts you’ve been thinking and fuck—you really missed him. You need to remind yourself that you’re still out in the open, still in the militia courtyard, still not alone, and you don’t even allow Minghao to do the formal, custom bow and greeting before you turn on your heel and rush away.
Your strides are long but his are longer and he keeps up with your discerningly fast pace, following you out of the courtyard, through the rows of decorated barracks, and off the militia grounds without a word. It’s only when you’re both alone in the small pathway that connects the militia grounds to the castle that you finally allow your pace to rest.
Minghao is the first to speak after glancing around to ensure that the coast is clear, “You seem to have forgotten that you’re the only one who isn’t lugging around 40 pounds worth of armor.” His voice comes out in soft pants, and it’s slightly gruff, but then he’s dropping his helmet to the ground and grabbing your face so he can smash your face into his.
His lips are chapped, moving roughly against yours hungrily, his tongue licking into your mouth as you struggle to place your hands—his armor isn’t the best for clinging onto—so you settle for placing them on his neck. Minghao’s own hands are cradling the back of your head, angling you better as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with a passion that threatens to consume you. He tastes of salt and sweat, your own lips sweet with the scent of royal gardens, and it all has you dizzy.
When Minghao breaks the kiss, you feel at a loss as you grapple for him, his skin, his touch against you. “Y-you need to get this off,” you say hastily, knocking on the steel armor that dons his body. You let your fingers trace down the hard material, finally letting them fall down to grasp one of the few exposed parts of his body left—his hands.
“Eager already?” his eyes flicker up at you and it seems to light a flame beneath you. You squeeze his fingers lightly, looking around you to make sure no one has stepped into this pathway yet.
“Whatever.” You pause. “I missed you,” you add quietly, as Minghao leans forward and adjusts the collar of your robes for you, the small gesture making your heart tender. His gaze softens, and he uses one hand to gently stroke your cheek.
“I missed you too. It was so long—I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses, and the admission has your lips pulling into a smile.
“Do you want to go to the gardens?” you ask excitedly, holding his hand up to your chest as you clutch it tightly. “The enclosed one? I’ll ask Eunji to make sure it stays private for the rest of the morning and—” Minghao’s lips pursed into a tight line causes disappointment to well up inside your belly. “What? You don’t want to?”
“No—no, of course I want to, it’s just…” his voice trails off and you look up at him dejectedly. “I need to go to the barracks. I know we have the week off but I still have things to do.”
“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back a little. Minghao frowns, squeezing your cheek lightly with the calloused pads of his fingers.
“You know I want to. I just need to unpack and get this—” he looks down at himself and clanks the metal armor, “—get this shit off and take care of some stuff with Jun.” You nod understandingly, but he notices the ways your eyes droop down just a little. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he continues. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
Your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Tonight?” Minghao nods with a smile, his hand still resting by your cheek, gently stroking your jawline. “The gardens? My room? Where?”
“I actually have a different place in mind. It’s in the civil grounds. It’ll be better if you can come before sunset…” As he speaks, his fingers trail down your neck, running over your collarbone right where the two ends of your robe meet just above your chest. His touch lingers for a few moments, burning trails of fire into your skin as you struggle to keep your heartbeat steady.
“The civil grounds? We’ve never gone there before,” you murmur, voice dripping with curiosity. “At least not since … well you know.” Since the night we met.
“Trust me?” The way he looks down at you with pure adoration makes you feel like he can hear your heartbeat from your chest, shaking the earth under you.
“Before sunset, right here,” you promise.
You can’t quite hide your enthusiasm from Eunji but you also can’t quite care. Nearly jumping off the walls from excitement, it feels like an eternity before the hour strikes seven and you’re whispering to her to cover for you as you slip off the castle grounds and to the little pathway that leads to the militia grounds.
And there he is, your boy, clad in no longer his armor but brown robes which hug his built figure. There is no sword drawn in his back nor is there a helmet clinging by his side, and you grin when you approach him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso.
Patting your back gently, Mingao places a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a warning look as your eyes ask for more. “Not now … not here,” he clarifies, running his hand over your head once, admiring the updo it’s in as he slots his other hand into yours. “Don’t you want to see where I’m taking you?”
You grip his hand tighter and nod as he pulls out a brown fabric from the crevice in his robe. “What’s this for?” you ask as he drapes it over your head gingerly, finally tying the loose ends under your chin.
“Just so you don’t get noticed. We are going to the civil grounds, after all,” Mingaho explains, patting your cheek lightly once he’s done and pulling you to follow after him as he leads the way. You’re both quiet as he leads you carefully through the paths of the militia grounds, finally sneaking you out through a side gate.
Minghao quietly pulls you through the winding streets of the civil grounds where the atmosphere is bustling, with vibrant colors, loud voices, and an endless amount of people flooding the pathways. It’s new, of course, but with the sun hanging low above you, Minghao’s warm hand encased around yours, and the promise of a good night in your mind, you feel oddly comforted.
You’re led through the crowds, Minghao holding you close to his side until he stops at the base of one, tall building, leading you through an alleyway and to the back where there’s a narrow staircase leading to the roof. With a hand on your back, he guides you up the stairs, still keeping close as he follows carefully behind you.
“This is Jun’s family’s old shop,” he explains as the distant sounds of laughter and music grow fainter. “They’ve moved buildings now, but me and Jun come here sometimes with friends because this one is really tall and … and well you’ll see,” he murmurs as you finally reach the top.
He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both walk onto the rooftop which is lined with a fence style barrier. The ground is covered in old rugs and there are some sacks and boxes strewn around. Walking over to the edge with Minghao, you gasp softly at the sight around you. The civil ground sprawls beneath you, and as you look up, you can see the castle against the blooming oranges and reds of the sky—it’s beautiful.
“This is … wow … this is really pretty, Hao,” you say, and his hold on you tightens for a second before letting go so he can turn around. He walks over to one of the boxes, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a few linen sheets and a lantern, setting it down on the rugs.
“Come, sit,” he instructs as he lays out the sheets, placing the light on top. You follow, smoothing your robes before sitting next to him and leaning into his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around you. Looking up, you watch the sky turn into a hue of orange so deep and vibrant that it’s nearly red.
“You really can’t get a view like this from the castle,” you say with a sigh as Minghao uses one hand to light up the lantern.
He hums in response, pressing a kiss to the temple of your head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to bring you here for a while.” You turn to look up at him with a big grin, finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, and although you really are aching for more, you suppose you’ll settle for this right now. After all, you do have all night.
“This is beautiful,” Minghao tells you when you pull away, fingers brushing over the golden hairpin you stuck into your updo early in the morning.
“Eunji picked it out for me…”
He smiles at you gently, hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. “I love it. I actually wanted to show you something,” he says, pulling out a small object clasped in his hands.
Opening it up in front of you, on his palm sits a shiny, finger shaped accessory, gleaming with a hue that perfectly matches your hairpin. It vaguely resembles the figure of Minghao’s own fingers, and you run your fingers over the cool metal, tracing over the delicate patterns carved in.
“What’s this?”
“A prize. The kingdom was holding a competition for the different demonstration units, and as the leader of the unit that won, I was made this,” he explains, rubbing his own fingers over the accessory. Wordlessly, he slips it onto his middle finger and holds it up in front of you to see it more closely. As your vision zones in on the golden piece, you notice a shift in Minghao's eyes—a darkening intensity.
“Hao,” you whisper quietly, and then he’s bringing the decorated finger up to your face and pressing the cool metal against your lips. Gasping, you lean forward instinctively, your mouth wrapping around the piece instinctively. His hand in your mouth, you can smell him, although the taste of iron against your tongue is unfamiliar. New, but not unpleasant.
“You have no idea,” Minghao begins to say, pressing his fingers down on your tongue firmly, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.” You can’t respond, not with the way your mouth is stuffed, but you honestly don’t need to. The way your tongue swirls over his digits and teeths at the accessory is enough to tell Minghao that you’ve been aching for this just as long as he has. “Do you want to…try something?” he asks tentatively, slipping his slick fingers out carefully.
You don’t need to think about your answer, not with Minghao. You’d trust him no matter what, follow him anywhere, let him do anything to you. Your fingers toy with the ribbons of your robes as you nod eagerly, and he helps you untie them from your side. The cloth hangs loose from your shoulders now, the gap at your chest spreading now and leaving you bare.
The golden piece is still on his fingers, and as he trails his hands down the curve of your tits, pressing against your stomach and dipping in between your legs, Minghao watches your face contort into pleasure. The cool metal pressing against your warm cunt has your soft breaths turning into harsh pants as you grab his firm bicep, legs spreading instinctively.
Quickly, you glance around you, but Minghao quells your worries when he presses his lips against your neck and murmurs, “Don’t worry angel, we’re too high up for anyone to see.” His fingers are gliding between your folds as he sucks against your neck, and you know he wants to be sweet with you, wants to take his time, wants to be the patient gentleman he is, but it’s been far too long.
“Minghao,” you moan when his thumb brushes against your clit. “Wanna feel you,” your murmur, nudging his face in the crook of your neck with your own. He chuckles into your skin, licking a hot stripe over your skin before nodding. It hardly takes him a second before he’s circling your slick hole and pressing in.
The hard accessory is a new feeling—this isn’t the same as the familiar pads of Minghao’s long fingers rubbing against your plush walls, but you can’t say you don’t like it. Whining into his mouth as he kisses you, your hands roam Minghao’s body, tugging at the ropes of his robe around his torso.
As you aimlessly try to shuffle his robe off of him, Minghao starts to plunge his fingers in and out. Shrugging his robe off his shoulders, you’re finally able to press your palms against his hard chest, breaking away from the kiss so you can admire him. “You like it?” he asks amusedly as your mouth hangs wide open when he presses his fingers in extra deep with one thrust. Your head lolls back heavily, the finger piece adding an extra layer of thickness that you aren’t used to.
“Feels s’good,” you say softly, the moans getting caught in your throat when he speeds up his movements. “Love your fingers …” You take a deep breath before continuing. “Love y—you!” you whimper unexpectedly when you feel your orgasm creep up on you unexpectedly quickly.
“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Something about the way Minghao calls you princess is different from others. Maybe it’s the way he isn’t calling you that because you are the princess, but because you are his princess. His sweet girl, falling apart at the palm of his hand as he rubs your sensitive nub and continues to finger fuck you until you moan his name. His name falls from your lips like honey, sweet and thick as he kisses you passionately and doesn’t stop working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming in his hold and pawing at his pants.
Slipping out his fingers, Minghao holds the shiny accessory up, and it seems to shimmer even more now, coated in your wetness and reflecting the pretty red tint of the sky. Gently pulling the piece off his finger, he sets it to the side. “How was it?”
You smile hazily, still recovering from your much awaited orgasm. “I loved it … felt different but I loved it,” you tell him honestly, shuffling over on his lap as your robe falls completely off your body, leaving you in nothing but panties. Minghao’s breath hitches at the sight, and you grin as your fingers make their way to the firm waistband of his brown pants.
He’s quick to catch on, enveloping your lips in a kiss as he pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, hard cock springing free and hitting your thigh lightly. You feel the warm precum leak against your skin as you shift closer, your stomach pressing against his now that you’re both completely bare and more desperate than ever.
Minghao's arms wrap around your torso, one hand going down to line his thick tip up with your folds, letting himself get coated in your wetness. "You ready, angel?" he asks when your mouths break apart from each other, his pretty lips red and swollen. Your eyebrows pinch together when you feel his cock prodding at your entrance and you nod vigorously. “Words, princess, use your words.”
“Yes, Hao, ‘m ready,” you moan when you feel him press against you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “So ready, so, so ready,” you continue, not being able to control yourself when you press your own hips down. Minghao gasps at the feeling of you sinking on him, warm walls hugging his cock and fuck, he realizes how much he missed you.
Realizes just how much his fist falls short of your perfect pussy—long nights of being without you so he to resort to jerking himself off to the thought of you but none of that compared to the feeling of you whining his name on top of him, hands clutching at his arms as you try to adjust to his size.
You’re also having your own moment of epiphany now too—realization that your fingers were not enough, and will never be enough. At least, not after you’ve felt Hao’s cock inside of you—one thrust in and he’s already hitting all the right spots and having you writhe on top of him.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Minghao groans when your ass settles fully on his lap, his cock pressed into you, balls deep, as your fingers lace into his hair and grab at his soft locks.
“Oh—oh m-my god, Hao,” you whimper when he shifts inside of you. The pain that once came from his size is now morphing into a white, hot pleasure that ripples through your spine as you lift your hips up halfway before letting them fall back down. “So—s’big,” you gasp out when his fat tip nudges against your cervix.
Minghao feels his cock twitch inside of you at your words, using his hands to guide your body so you can move and bounce on top of him with less effort. Your cunt is so tight around him and his eyes press shut tightly when he hears you call out his name. “Doin’ so good for me princess,” he praises when you roll your hips against his.
Both of your movements aren’t fast nor extravagant but it’s the way he’s so close to you, skin melting into one other as you share your breath and exchange moans. Bodies moving in sync as you drink in the velvety moans, your nose nuzzles into his when your thighs start to cramp up. “Hao …” you call out as his cock punches the air out of your lungs. “…’m tired,” you mewl, your hips stuttering into his.
His hand cradles your neck as you both still, murmuring, “I got you angel.” Swiftly, Minghao flips you over so your back is pressed against the sheets and he’s on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand comes up to hold your cheek as he starts to move again, taking control of the thrusts now.
Stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, he ruts his hips into yours, cock and pussy jamming together in a sloppy mess as you feel that knot in your tummy start to tie up again. “Missed you s’much,” you confess as heat flourishes through your body.
“Missed you too angel,” Minghao returns almost immediately, letting the snap of his hips become more sharp and forceful, your body jerking back and forth with each movement. Your eyes flicker between Hao’s pretty face, coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and the night sky that begins to loom into a dark purple, revealing the stars. “Gonna have to fuck you every single night now that I’m back,” he grunts when you squeeze around him extra tight, letting himself drop down onto his elbows.
You shudder at the idea of having Hao’s cock inside of you every night, and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle the pleasure. “I’ll—fuck—” you gasp between the words, “—I’ll sneak you in e-every night.”
“Yeah? Eunji’s not gonna get mad when she sees your door locked every morning?” he chuckles, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit.
“Don’t care,” you mutter, biting down on your lip as your feel the knot being pulled and tugged inside you. “Fuck—Hao, ‘m so close, so, so close … Are you close?” you ask dazedly, lips puffy and eyes wide as you look up at him. And looks so sexy with the way his brown eyes watch you intently, his muscles flexing with every movement and Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.
“Yeah, ‘m close angel, your pussy so good,” he slurs as he meets your lips for a tongue tying kiss. And slowly and carefully, you both start to unwind, your orgasm hitting you first from the overstimulation of your first that never quite ebbed away, Minghao’s following suit as you let out whimpers moans of his name into his mouth, cock twitching before filling you to the brim with his thick ropes of cum.
Your ears ring of white noise for the next few moments as thrash against Minghao, your bodies melting into one until he finally breaks away from your lips, leaving you both as a tangled mess of limbs. You’re breathing heavily into each other and you can’t quite comprehend what’s going on until he whispers your name into your ear, eyes shooting back to life.
“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe before lifting his head so he can look at you intently.
“I love you,” you say, without a second of hesitation. He’s still inside of you, and now you’re hyper-aware of the growing mess that sits between your legs. Minghao kisses your nose as you look down when he finally slips out of you, a small noise of complaint leaving your lips. Inhaling deeply, you sit up. “You’re going to live up to that promise, you know,” you say shyly when he looks at you, sitting up as well to grab his robe. “You know … every single night.”
Minghao grins. “Of course I will.”
“Can I hold you to that?” you ask slyly, intertwining your fingers with his.
Minghao rolls his eyes, palm pressing against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to try ‘n’ find out.”
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