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hanibalistic · 1 day ago

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COMMENCE! THE VAMPIRE TRIALS! | YANG JUNGWON.

genre | vampire au/supernatural au, platonic relationship, found family au, (side) romance, hurt/comfort, (jic) dead dove: do not eat

synopsis | the clock struck twelve on yang jungwon’s eighteenth birthday, right after his transition to a vampire and his first killing. stuck without a home to return to, jungwon was confronted with a much bigger problem: a murder trial, where he is at risk of being tried as a supernatural adult for an unintentional crime.

word count | 19.7k+

warning | blood, violence, mentions of death / killing / trauma / parental abuse / bullying

note | white truffle fries are so good!

“Hello. I am calling from Bloodline Recovery Center regarding Yang Jungwon’s absence today.”

Jungwon winced at the mention of his name. You did not take notice of his discomfort as you formally chatted away with who he assumed to be one of the office clerks from school. Shifting in his seat, which was just broken enough that he could hear a crack of pressure under him when he did so, he fiddled with his fingers. He decided to pay his attention elsewhere in your office.

The memory of a significant, recent tragedy was disgustingly vivid. There have been a lot of unfortunate truths in his life that he often found himself wishing to forget, but out of all of them, what happened the previous night was the worst he has ever been through because he caused it. It was all his doing and fault, albeit he was only somewhat conscious throughout the ordeal.

He picked at his skin, then he picked under his nails, where the clicking sound quickly traveled into his ears. He wasn't supposed to be able to hear mundane noises clearly, and the fact that he could bother him. It deterred him from fidgeting.

Half an hour ago, he was instructed to shower at the rehabilitation center to rinse himself of his crime, which he did. He spent an awfully long time under the steaming water, something he could have never done back home because of the racking up of water bills.

His eyes had been wide, and his mind scrambled with no capability for thought. Even though he made sure he watched the blood ooze away from his skin and down the drain, the lingering feeling of its dryness remained in his consciousness.

After the shower, he was guided by a security guard to the cafeteria, where he was free to order breakfast. The idea of consuming food was disdainful. Besides that, he was packed from the blood of two grown adults. His vampirism wasn’t hungry, so neither was he.

Everyone in the cafeteria left him alone. The security guard left when he was introduced to the door, and the cooks minded their business behind the buffet counters. Nobody was in the cafeteria because lunch hour hadn’t arrived yet.

But Jungwon assumed people wanted to give him space to regain his composure. Or nobody could be bothered to check up on him, or everyone had already heard of his story and made the cautious decision not to associate with him. Whatever it was, he was glad he got time to himself.

Eventually, he caved into normalcy and got a carton of banana milk. The mere taste of it made him giddy—it was a simple taste of joy, laced with good memories within a wash of bitterness.

The drink's sweetness shot through him like a bullet, and he held onto it with his bare hands, desperately wanting to feel just a tiny lick of a childish grin after hours of straight torment.

When he finished his drink, he was ushered somewhere else. Someone may be observing him, he thought. Someone had been waiting for him to finish his food so they could take him elsewhere. But he should have noticed it if that was the case.

Vampirism came with those superhuman perks; it would suck if he got singled out and didn’t have them.

It wasn’t a long walk from the cafeteria to your office. Or, at least, it was a tiny room decorated to look like an office. There was a laptop on a small table, one wired phone you were using, a corkboard on the wall with papers and polaroids pinned on the surface, and a whiteboard with a few ugly cartoon animals drawn on.

The setting did not feel permanent or formal to him. Jungwon could not care less about that, though. He was concerned about what he was sent here to do.

“Hello. I am calling from Bloodline Recovery Center regarding Yang Jungwon’s absence today.”

The Bloodline Recovery Center—the name echoed in his head and did not ring familiar bells. All he knew was that it was a rehabilitation facility exclusively for vampires.

The facility was part of a much bigger medical institution that owned and oversaw different clinics (each made especially for different supernaturals) spread across the country. Other than that, he knew nothing about it and never thought he would have to.

Just yesterday, as a human boy, he never deemed it necessary to indulge in supernatural issues. He did not care about their politics; he sympathized with their struggles but made no attempt to advocate for them. He did not actively yearn to communicate and interact with them; he had made no supernatural friends and had never met one.

Despite the blending and coexistence of humans and supernaturals, as a boy who has never been in the presence of non-humans, Jungwon believed he was not obligated to care.

Then, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, he became a vampire.

“Thank you, I will make a note of that and schedule a meeting soon,” you said before ending the call.

Jungwon eyed you carefully as you slotted the phone back in its place, his chest dreading the end of your phone call with the school office, thus ending his personal time.

Looking at the table, you scribbled on the memo pad before you. Even though his vision returned to perfection, how you positioned yourself made it impossible to glimpse what you were writing. You did it on purpose; this wasn’t your first rodeo.

When you were done, you put your pencil down and pushed it to the side before turning to face him. You met eyes with him immediately, and his timid jump indicated that he had been staring at you for a while. You supposed he would. Hypervigilance tends to be a trait that newly turned vampires acquire, especially those turned without consent.

Jungwon hasn’t spoken to you about his transition, but the police gave you a brief overview: he was returning home from cram school and got attacked by a vampire a few blocks down the bus stop. The boy saved the brutal details; he couldn’t remember most of it, and all his injuries had been healed.

Besides his turning, he was also accused of a heinous crime, which brought upon him paranoia and guilt. Hypervigilance would be on the table for a while.

You sized him, a neutral smile tugging at your lips. He looked younger than his age, which he would find troublesome hundreds of years later.

It came as a surprise to you when you saw that he turned eighteen today. His small, heart-shaped face predisposed him to look more youthful and adorable, but his almond eyes held a gaze intense enough that he may not be watered down to just being a cute, harmless boy.

You accessed him with less caution than he was doing you, and you did not expect any less. Intimidation flared from his naturally sharp, cat-like eyes where millions of thoughts traveled. It was something he could not help with. His eyes exuded intentions that he could prevent from showing.

Still, more than menace, anxiety rushed up his lungs at this mere second.

He noticed his awareness of his surroundings, people’s motives, and himself as a living creature. What he did, in his opinion, could not be paralleled. Not that his thoughts should matter at this pathetic, low point in his life.

But still, Jungwon could not rid himself of the guilt-ridden anxiety fumbling through his throat whenever his mind made clear of his crime.

You maintained a professional expression and wondered if he would look different if he wasn't entranced with today's bloodbath. Maybe his would look softer. Maybe his heart would be softer.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he managed to itch the word crumbs from his throat, and it wasn’t odd that this came before a self-introduction. “I didn’t kill them on purpose.”

On the very night of his eighteenth birthday, he became a vampire.

Then, what followed was what always followed: Yang Jungwon murdered his parents.

He was thrown into a fit of rage and starvation before the completion of the transition. The rage came from his parents’ normalized abusive attitude, and it was amplified by his heightened vampiric emotions.

The hunger came from being a vampire in transition. In retrospect, beneath the uncontrollable fit, there was a chaotic yearning for an explanation for the poor treatment his parents provided him, as well as a bloody revenge for the miserable life he’d lived.

Jungwon remembered everything; his memories were disgustingly vivid. It was his eighteenth birthday, his official first step into adulthood. Having never held any hope for his father's generosity, the child in him thought at least his mother would throw a celebration, however small it would be.

Ultimately, he got nothing but a beer bottle haphazardly thrown past his head for returning home at the night's break.

What his father had not known was that he had just been killed. Grabbed, struggled, killed, revived, and turned.

Jungwon wondered if it was fate's idea that he would kill his parents. For his entire walk back home, he did not stumble upon even a shadow of a human being. There was not a smell, a sound, or a presence.

The first people he saw after he came back alive, ready for blood consumption, were his mom and dad. Mom, who screamed in horror at the sight of his face, and dad, who was violently angry at him as always.

Everything hurt, he recalled. The fangs forcefully grew at his gums, his eyes turned bloodshot, and black veins popped near them, and his senses overwhelmed his brain and his body.

He remembered his parent’s nails digging into his skin as they cried and cursed at him: a terrible child, a disastrous child! A foul child, a dangerous child! Love has never surrounded you, and it never will after this! Mark my words and watch your back, Yang Jungwon!

At last, he sat in a pool of blood, and it was his father’s lifeless hand that he held and apologized to. The same hand that left his skin claw marks on a daily was the hand he needed to be torn away from.

He was confused and afraid. Jungwon knew he wasn't a violent person, nor was he a violent son. He knew he had the genes to become one, so he did everything he could to prevent that.

Despite all the years of not standing up to his parents and isolating himself from his peers, he did not allow one chance to be aggressive toward others.

Everything he did that night was out of character. His moral compass was spinning so fast that it severely burnt his self-esteem. This incident justified the mindset that he deserved nothing good in life.

But, still, he did not mean it. He did not mean to kill his parents, and he needed you to know the truth.

You raised your brows half-heartedly at his confession. If you had an opinion on his statement, you did not give it away. Your voice was light when you spoke, but it was not comforting for him to hear.

“I believe you." You shifted on your seat. “Vampires rarely make their first kill on purpose.”

His pursed lips tugged downward into a frown. The dejected expression confused you. You meant what you said and assumed it was what he wanted to hear. These confessions were often made in a desperate attempt to be believed so you didn't think you said anything wrong.

The sullen look on his face blatantly told you otherwise, though, and you wondered what he was thinking about.

Scratching his eyelid, Jungwon breathed a silent exhale and figured he may be asking a stranger for too much emotional understanding.

It wasn't your trust that he wanted to gain or his innocence he tried to prove. This was not about him killing his parents because even he understood the uncontrollability of that particular tragedy. His thoughts dated back to when he was still in his early adolescence, back when the torment from his parents started.

He was often left breathless, wondering if the lack of parental love he received was expected, hoping that if he gave enough, he would regain it.

Jungwon spent his entire life caring for his mom and his whole youth forgiving his dad. He somehow managed to grow attached to those obligations and feelings.

This was never about killing his parents, nor was it about his guilt and innocence. This was about love.

This was about Jungwon not wanting to kill his parents. This was about the knowledge that, deep in his heart, a massive part of him held grounded affection for them despite all the wrongs they'd done to him. This was about convincing himself that he loved his family even in deep-seething rage and everlasting pain.

How could he possibly say that when it was his fangs that sunk into their neck?

Perhaps that was all it was. Jungwon needed to convince himself that he did not kill his parents on purpose. He needed his painful forgiveness and his familial devotion to not be a waste.

Sensing the tense air in the room, you ignored it and proceeded with your job. You leaned forward, your fingers laced together to sit on top of the papers where information about Jungwon's case was freshly printed, and then you smiled softly at him.

“Hey,” you called, “Jungwon.”

He listened, his eyes sharp but round upon your call for attention.

“I don’t think you killed your mom and dad on purpose,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “I really don’t think so.”

“I didn’t.” He bit the inside of his lower lip. “What am I going to do now?”

"That's what you're here for," you said after sighing. Fixing the papers on your desk, you turned them around so they could easily be read. "My name is [Name]. You can feel free to call me by that. I will be your counselor here at the recovery center, which means I overlook your rehabilitation progress."

You pushed the papers toward him. "Here is all the basic information administration pulled from the government database. It is the protocol that I match your verbal introduction with what is written on paper, so please briefly introduce yourself to me.”

Jungwon clicked his nails together as he relaxed at the new conversation. Your eyes were windows he couldn’t look into; you kept a professional front, but he thought you were compassionate when you told him you believed he didn’t kill with intention. Almost too compassionate. He was afraid to acknowledge it in case he would overreact to kindness.

Looking down, he stared at the papers you pushed toward him.

“My name is Yang Jungwon. I am eighteen years old. I go to Seoulen High School and am supposedly preparing for college…” His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing in thoughts before his brain suddenly jolted in the realization of something important. He looked up at you—your eyes for a moment, then up at your forehead—to ask urgently,

“I have school today! I get to go back to class, right?”

You grimaced. “We can try to discuss it with the school, but it is highly unlikely. It’s not just about you but the safety of your peers.”

“I already said I didn’t do it on purpose,” he argued, leaning forward as his right leg bounced anxiously. “My head is clear now. I can control myself! I need to go back to school! I gotta graduate and go to college–“ his bouncy eyes landed on you abruptly–“Will colleges even accept me with a criminal record? It’d be discrimination if they don’t, wouldn’t it?”

You swallowed a knot down your throat, unsure of how you could shed light on the current judicial that heavily biases humans.

Even more surprising was that he didn’t know. There have been ample voices speaking up about it on social media, and most teenagers you’ve met were avid users.

Deciding to leave this unsettling truth for another time or to hand the responsibility to someone else, you hummed with a furrow of your brows. You asked, “Shouldn’t you have gotten acceptance letters by now?”

The question occupied him as he immediately abandoned the previous question. He shook his head sheepishly, shrinking into his chair as if embarrassed.

His steps to graduating and going to college were heavily messed up due to his poor home environment and the lack of help from school counselors. He had nobody to talk to about where he wanted to go, what he wanted to study, and if he should apply for a scholarship or settle with a community college.

Despite the lack of support, he was excited about graduating. Not only could he be out of the hellhole that was high school, but college schedules were also more flexible, which meant he could finally get a job. He anticipated earning money on his own and spending it on what he loved.

Eventually, he may even be able to move out. He could bring his mother with him; even though she drank and feared her husband, he was still a boy who got tucked into bed secretly with a kiss on the forehead.

“I haven’t applied to any school yet,” he muttered.

“Jungwon, it’s March. The application cycle closed last month,” you said after holding back a concerned gasp, but your eyes widened in surprise.

It has been a while since you first applied to university. Still, in your head, you remembered the process was rigorous and quick. Your parents and teachers emphasized timing each step carefully: figure out your study schedule for the entrance exam, ask your teachers for recommendations months in advance, find time to attend workshops to edit your college essays, and most importantly, do not miss the deadline!

“The regular application cycle ended last month,” he noted. “I can apply for late admission.”

“Late admission closes late March to early April, and they are typically rolling admissions,” you exclaimed lightly, shifting your weight at the sudden unease he brought you.

Things may become more hectic and rushed than you thought they would be. “You have to juggle between doing rehabilitation and applying to universities on a first-come, first-serve basis within two months.”

"Two months is more than enough time. I am very diligent!" he retorted defensively upon your incredulousness. He knew he was late but did not want to be accused. "I already have my essay and transcript ready. I just have to retake the entrance exam and find two teachers to write my recommendation letters!"

“Why didn’t you send in the scores you already have?” you questioned, shaking your head in confusion.

“They are not good enough!” he gritted out in disappointment, then he lost his tense shoulders and slumped against the back of the chair. His darting eyes traveled between the walls and the desk, and his hands rubbed nervously together. “I–I need… I need better scores.”

The first testing period had come at the worst time possible. He was well-prepared. He studied at least five hours a day, paid attention in classes, attended after-school lessons, and spent his little pocket money to buy mock exams so he could practice.

But the testing period came just when his home life got a tad more stressful—it was one pile of garbage on top of another, soiling the weight on his back without care, as if he knew how to handle everything.

It had felt like a hoax when he got his test results back. All the time, money, and worry spent on the entrance exam went down the drain because of a simple number that wouldn’t mean anything years later.

He had been so anxious about his future; he needed to attend college, get a degree, and leave home. None of those could be accomplished with those terrible scores of his.

Although, now that his parents were dead, Jungwon wasn’t sure if those goals were as firm as they used to be. He had nowhere to leave and nobody to avoid anymore.

The life purpose that once motivated his every effort was gone because of this massive shortcut, which brought him somewhere foreign rather than the paradise he dreamt of.

You took notice of the redness that rushed to the veins near his eyes when he spoke, which faded too quickly for Jungwon to notice that they were there at all. It wasn't new to you.

You have seen vampires act out before. You have been the target of an outburst before, and it was only thanks to your good vampire friend that you got out of it alive.

Jungwon has no ill intentions, you believed. The way he shrunk his body in unknown grief and how he went as far as to make a point to tell you he disagreed with everything he has done as a newly-turned vampire told you that.

Still, your heart pounded each time you saw those bloodied veins. You would always be afraid of the potential outcome of a vampire’s outburst.

Keeping the fear behind your lips, you sighed gently and looked at him apologetically. You were unsure if the smile was to comfort you or him.

Being in charge of vampires during their rehabilitation was no strange task to you. Still, this case differed from what you had been doing for your internship: this one involved a court case.

On top of that, you may have to personally make sure Jungwon’s college application process goes smoothly despite the rehabilitation programs he has to attend, as well as the murder trial that would define his future.

“Well, my job is to fit everything in your schedule, so that is what I will try to do,” you said as you gathered the papers from the desk and knocked them together by their sides.

You moved them away before reaching below your desk to pull more documents from the open drawer. “I assume you already know why you are here, so I will explain what you will do and what kind of service the Bloodline Recovery Center will provide you from now on.”

The Bloodline Recovery Center was a rehabilitation center made explicitly for vampires. Clients could either voluntarily seek out aid from the center, or they would be referred here by an outside source, such as the police station, schools, or workplaces.

Most of the time, when a vampire was referred to the center by a government institution, the rehabilitation program was a necessary process, and the case would not be closed until they met the rehabilitation goal.

“Since you are a newly turned vampire, your program will be catered towards helping you gain control over your vampirism and get accustomed to living in your new body,” you said as you flipped over a few papers on your table and pushed it toward Jungwon.

You grabbed a pencil and began pointing at the information printed on top, giving him a visual representation of what you were talking about.

“You will get periodic medical check-ups and weekly vampire training. I am not sure about the requirement for therapy.” You rolled your eyes up to think, and then you huffed silently. “I will ask about that again, but I highly recommend it.”

“Why do I need a medical check-up,” Jungwon said slowly as he scanned the paper. “I thought vampires don’t get sick.”

“The doctor might be able to speak more on that for you,” you replied. “From what I have seen, I think they do check-ups so they can have records of your assessment. It is the same as our yearly physical check-ups but for supernaturals.”

You kept the paper in front of Jungwon when you suddenly pulled back. He was barely paying attention to the words, only looking at them for the sake of having something to do. He remained fidgety until now and may stay so for a while. He looked up at you upon your shift in position and slightly pulled back, waiting for the big news that seemed to be locked behind your eyes.

“Jungwon,” you called, sympathy laced in your tone. “You know what you did, don’t you?”

He gulped nervously and nodded after a prolonged moment. “Yes, but I–“ he sucked in a harsh breath–“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” you said, offering him a kind smile. “But the court is only going to take that into consideration when they put you on trial for the murder of your parents.”

“A trial?” he repeated in a whisper so he could make sense of your words.

That should be a no-brainer. If this happened to somebody else, he would have agreed that the vampire should be put on trial for murder. The law should not bend just because it was pitiful that he fell victim to its accusation. It never did to anyone else. Still, this was an unlikable situation. He wanted to run away from it and begin somewhere else.

Jungwon pursed his lips with furrowed brows when he felt a peak of sharpness at his gums. His vision was blurred with a darkened filter as if blood had taken over his vision in a quick second. He noticed the change in your expression and appreciated that you looked more surprised than afraid.

He tried to will his trembling hands to calm and his shaking legs to stop, but the unreasonable irritation in his chest remained upon what you told him.

“Am I going to jail?” he asked.

“Not necessarily. We are working on it.” You shook your head and scooted your chair forward. “Your circumstance is more peculiar than the usual case.”

“How so?” His voice was meek.

“When people are put on trial for their crimes, they are either being tried as an adult or a minor. For vampires and their transition murder, adults tend to get sentenced to serve jail time regardless of the uncontrollable nature of a transition. Minors, on the other hand, receive no jail time under the Juvenile Act, but it is required that they complete assignments given by the judge.”

“We are trying to get the judge to try you as a minor even though you are eighteen now.”

According to Jungwon’s testimony, which he gave shortly after arriving at the police station, and a brief deduction provided by the investigator the previous night, the current assumption was that his parents’ death happened just a little before the clock struck twelve on his eighteenth birthday.

The murder occurred when he was seventeen, and he was arrested when he was eighteen. There were only a few minutes between the incidents. Keeping his best interest in mind, the greatest outcome would be that he be tried as a minor, receiving a fair sentence for the crime.

As fair of a sentence for killing your parents could be, at least.

“Our legal department has already assigned a team to represent you in court,” you informed. “One of the lawyers on your team–you might get a chance to meet him later, but he is getting more information about the hearing now so the team can advise us on what we must do to appeal you to the judge.”

Jungwon nodded. He understood what you said. The only reason why he felt conflicted was that he did not want to be put in a situation like this in the first place.

The idea of a prison haunted him, not only because it would further tarnish the moral reputation he has of himself but because he knew vampire sentencing extended beyond that of a hundred years. He has yet to gain the whole experience of immortality, and time is still familiar.

If he had to serve jail time for a hundred years and beyond, he would go insane.

He should listen to you. He could do that. He listened well to adults. He was taught to do so ever since he learned to think independently.

"Well, with that out of the way, we got work to do," you finished cheerfully as you pushed yourself off the chair. Gathering up the papers on your desk, you stuffed them in your tote bag and adjusted the strap on your shoulder. You looked at Jungwon, welcoming eyes adverting from him to the door. "We are going to get you checked up first."

Jungwon stood up with a slight stumble. He absentmindedly pushed his chair toward the desk, desiring to return things to their original position. At the same time, he kept his curious eyes on you.

He blinked in surprise when you huffed a short laugh upon him stepping next to you, your head arching lightly to meet his gaze. He involuntarily ducked when you reached your hand up to his head to measure his height, and he felt that the blood around his face faded finally.

“You’re taller than you look. We’re almost the same height!” you laughed to yourself. “You grew up well.”

Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket, along with the response to your words he could not think of. The sudden burst of positivity was unexpected and out of place. He did not grow well. Look at the situation he got himself in!

However, the praise was not unwelcomed. He was not accustomed to compliments, if he could call that one. His parents never praised him, he was not outstanding enough for his teachers to acknowledge his presence, his friends were mostly temporary, and he always hid too much for strangers to notice.

The best compliment he had ever gotten was from the old lady who tended to a small, homey candy store down the street where he lived. Jungwon frequented that store for a while because he was always eager to visit her. Additionally, he was fond of an ice cream brand that other convenience stores had stopped selling.

She always joked about him growing up and eventually working part-time at her store. She would scold him for shooting so low when he wholeheartedly agreed.

In retrospect, it was never a direct compliment, but Jungwon remembered how the old lady told him to believe in himself and aim for more. Stay away from working in a lousy candy shop, she would say. You can do better things!

He was heartbroken when she passed away. The candy store was replaced, and he never bothered to see what occupied the location now. He thought if he didn't see it, his heart would believe that the store was still there.

Jungwon followed you closely as you left the office, trailing behind you with his head hung low and eyes on the ground. He ignored the people he brushed past, only perking up when he heard you greet other staff that passed you by, unknowingly glaring at all of them in the process.

Only when you called his name did his gaze soften, keeping his body still with his focus on you.

You beckoned him to follow closely, and instead of moving ahead, you waited for him to close the distance between you both. It was a small gesture. You probably didn't notice it, but he appreciated your patience. He kept his head high, wanting to make sure he would stay caught up. The walk was quiet, and he thought to himself that for now, at least, he trusted you.

The recovery center was much bigger than Jungwon anticipated. It took a long trip before you two arrived at the medical wing of the building.

The decoration differed from the rehabilitation wing—the placings of furniture were different, the color schemes were brighter and clearer (more white and less of an eerie, dull blue), and it smelt of sterilization.

Jungwon stayed behind when you talked with the receptionist, shifting his weight awkwardly between his legs and letting his body flail about as he waited for you to finish the conversation.

When you were done, you beckoned him to follow you through a double door into a long hallway that separated into longer corridors.

“Your doctor is Park Sunghoon,” you told him with a faint roll of your eyes.

You have worked with Sunghoon since your internship at the Bloodline Recovery Center. You two started on the wrong foot, mainly because you despised insensitive people.

In contrast, Sunghoon, being callous, did not care about the grudge you held against him. Many coincidences put you both in the same case. Along with the help of mutual friends, it brought you closer together.

Despite the emotional nature of his job, you have come to find that insensitivity has its perks.

Sunghoon was, ironically, more perceptive than others and ever so understanding of reactions. He was also less prone to be influenced by prejudice and emotional ideals because he held no particular opinion about anyone other than how beneficial they could be.

He may say and do according to how much havoc he could wreck upon the Earth, but when push comes to shove, his ability to make intelligent decisions was reliable.

Most importantly, he wasn’t a bad person. Sunghoon cared enough to a certain extent. He would not have chosen to be a doctor if his heart only wanted wealth. The road to excellence in the medical field was too much commitment for mere greed.

“Don’t worry, he is not friendly, but he is nice, and he’s smart,” you said. “He is already completing his doctorate program, and he’s younger than me.”

“How old is he?” Jungwon asked nonchalantly.

“Nineteen,” your gaze sharpened humorously, “he started university at fifteen.”

“So he’s one of those geniuses who skipped school?” Jungwon said, still not entirely intrigued out of jealousy that someone within his age range has accomplished so much already, but he wanted to make an effort to continue the conversation.

“Never shuts up about it.”

Talking about someone younger and more successful than you was the bane of your existence, especially when Sunghoon made light-hearted jokes about your intellectual differences. He only did it to a moderate amount, but you liked to exaggerate his self-centredness to everyone else as a playful attempt to ruin his reputation.

Jungwon did not react to what you said, and you supposed he had more in his mind than some doctor he had never met before.

Turning a corner, you stopped before the first door and knocked on it. You opened it just as permission was given, and immediately, you saw a deadpan glare thrown your way from behind a computer screen. Sunghoon briefly glanced behind you and raised a brow at Jungwon’s displeased expression.

“So we meet again.” Sunghoon stood up, a charming smile blossoming when he returned his attention to you. You knew it was fake. “I thought I mentioned not to make a habit of seeing me.”

“And I recall mentioning how you shouldn’t make a habit of talking,” you bantered as you swatted away his attempt to ruffle your hair, something he has made a habit of doing because of his taller frame.

A humorous smile remained on your face for a dear friend as you drew the paperwork from your bag and handed it to him for evaluation. “You are much more attractive when you don’t speak.”

“One point for me because you find me attractive,” Sunghoon chuckled with a light snap of his fingers, then he nudged you playfully with his shoulder. “Minus one point for Heeseung, also because you find me attractive.”

Jungwon blinked as his eyes ping-ponged between you two. The unfamiliar name bounced off his ears in alert, causing his heart to race at the possibility of meeting another stranger when he hadn't even gotten used to you yet.

The one thing keeping his anxiety at bay was the fun of piecing two and two together. Dr. Park implied that whoever this Heeseung person was, they had a thing for you.

Jungwon eyed you up and down once, accessing your features and attire lazily before he shrugged to himself. He wondered why.

“Nothing is going on between us,” you muttered dismissively as you slapped the papers at Sunghoon’s chest. “This is Jungwon. We need a brief check-up of him. You don’t have to give me the full details. I just need something to provide Jake with later–“

“You probably won’t hear from Jake today,” Sunghoon scoffed as he scanned the paperwork. His eyes shifted carefully across the papers, absorbing the information and daring himself not to give Jungwon an apologetic glance. “He was racing a kid down in the medical wing and got caught pushing over some supply shelves. They were playing hide and seek, he said.”

“Oh, so he’s stuck in friendly isolation.” You grimaced.

There was no isolation room in the rehabilitation center. When vampires go out of control, they are to be escorted out of the premises to the courtyard behind the building, which does not belong to the corporation but has been off-limits for so long that no one ever goes there.

The purpose of sending them outdoors was so they could release themselves freely or calm themselves down.

As for the friendly isolation room, it was just an empty room in the rehabilitation wing, and its only occupant was Jake.

The last time you heard of it was months ago. It was miraculous that Jake avoided getting into trouble for so long. Until today, you were baffled about the board's toleration of his unintentionally destructive behavior, but you understood.

Jake was an excellent mentor to new vampires, the kind you could not find elsewhere, and all the board had to do was pick him off the street and promise him a lifetime of meaningful social interactions.

“Third time this week,” Sunghoon added with an exhausted sigh.

“Third time?” you exclaimed in shock. You have not heard of the first two times he was sent to an empty room.

"Yes." After reading the paperwork, Sunghoon promptly returned it to you with a smirk. "Thank you. I am assuming I need to send a full report to Heeseung?"

“Yeah, thanks,” you returned with a scratch near your ear.

“Not a problem,” Sunghoon mused when he turned his back to grab a new pair of gloves from the supply box he had neatly placed on his desk. “You can take a seat on the bed, Jungwon.”

Jungwon received your encouraging smile with an embarrassed frown, and he audibly scoffed when you pointed at the bed for him as if he couldn’t find it himself.

Keeping his hands in his hoodie pocket, he made a small hop and landed harshly on the bed, the back of his shoes hitting against the cabinets attached beneath it. His heart dropped when he watched you wait by him patiently, not at all angered by his sudden change of attitude.

“Since you did your last health check-up with your school recently, I am not going to prolong your stay here and get your height and whatnot.” Sunghoon’s tone of choice changed from a professional low (something Jungwon assumed he used to keep some form of secrecy between him and you) to a higher, more relaxed tone. “But do know your appearance will never change from now on. You won’t be gaining weight, you can’t work out for muscles, and you’re not going to get any taller than this.”

“Basically, I am gonna be stuck looking like a kid forever,” Jungwon mumbled bitterly. “Go me! I can’t wait to see where that takes my romantic life five hundred years later.”

“With that attitude? I’m guessing absolutely nowhere,” Sunghoon joked.

You clicked your tongue at his discouraging tone but didn’t say anything you wouldn’t know of.

“I am going to run some tests to evaluate your vampirism, and I will need your cooperation. Is that alright?”

“If I say no, I go to jail,” Jungwon replied grimly.

"Fantastic! You know your weight on the scale of justice." Sunghoon smiled sardonically when he approached the bed. His heart giggled when he acknowledged the younger boy's dismay at his comment. "I can safely assume you do not have any injuries or illnesses now?"

Jungwon shook his head, not giving a second to double-check. He knew his body better than others because of how much he had to look after it. Constantly checking for bruises, wounds, cracks beneath his hair, irregular pains against his skin, and so on has made him hyperaware of his body. He knew that all the pains went away as soon as he turned and that his conscience was the only thing left aching.

“Nothing. I used to have poor eyesight, but I can see everything perfectly now,” he said.

“That’s expected,” Sunghoon hummed in content. “I’m assuming your bad eyesight came from means other than genes?”

“Well, yeah.” Jungwon shrugged. “What gives?”

“Oh, you should tell him a little about vampirism now that you’re at it,” you chimed in from the side. “He was asking questions just then.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jungwon furrowed his brows as he quickly turned toward you. He shook his head at you, his ears slightly reddened with embarrassment. He questioned what Sunghoon said about vampiric abilities, but having to voice his concern was a nightmare, so he settled with silence. It was not good to him that you asked on his behalf. “I didn’t ask anything.”

Sunghoon pulled a face when he met eyes with you. Then he whistled lowly. “Someone is going through a phase.”

“You would know,” Jungwon scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

You shot Sunghoon a glare in advance, just before his brain could remember everything he had read about Jungwon in the paperwork you gave him and fish out the worst detail it could to fire back as an insult.

Sunghoon held his hands up in mock surrender, but the rare sincerity in his smile was diminishing by the second with Jungwon’s attitude.

“I am gonna leave the vampire education up to the fossils at the training ward,” he said. “Back to business! Can you show me your fangs?”

Jungwon looked dubious. Shifting his eyes to the side, almost giving a stink-eye, Sunghoon clapped his hands and explained, “Vampires have evolved since centuries ago, and they have distinguishable fang shapes. We keep them in records just in case they can be useful.”

That made way too much sense for Jungwon’s liking, but he kept his opinions hushed. Pursing his lips together, he rubbed his hands and slightly parted his lips. He let out a short, low noise from his throat, unsure of where he should start with getting his fangs out.

The previous times when he had them out, they were all involuntary. Was he supposed to bring his vampirism to life? Should he think about what he would look like and go from there? Or could it be an emotional and uncontrollable thing?

“I… I don’t know how to get them out,” Jungwon muttered after a moment of his failed attempt.

Moving away from the bed after a nonverbal acknowledgment, Sunghoon walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a rattling box and dropped it on the table. Jungwon watched curiously as the doctor messed with the trinkets inside before quickly pulling out a heavy, old lock.

Sunghoon weighed it in his hand, deep in thought, then, without warning, he launched the object toward Jungwon’s direction.

Jungwon reacted quickly, grabbing the lock on a quick whim. His strength overcompensated the anxiety that arose from the unannounced need to protect his head.

The lock bent and broke under his grip, leaving a jagged metal ball in his palm. He glared at Sunghoon when the doctor approached and harshly dropped the lock in his hand.

“Sunghoon!” You gasped in disbelief. “You can’t do that during the assessment!”

“The assessment is whatever I see fit, and that did exactly what I need it to do,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly with a jerk of his head toward Jungwon’s direction. “He is strong, which is expected under the circumstances I put him in. Most vampires have massive reactive strength. The issue is learning to control it, which is out of my job description.”

“Throwing things at patients is also out of your job description!” you exclaimed.

“You would be surprised how much I can get away with, actually,” Sunghoon said as he returned the metal ball to Jungwon, who begrudgingly received it. He stepped aside and pointed at the wall on the opposite side, where there was nothing but white paint.

“Throw the ball at the wall, but I want it to fall exactly on the space that connects the wall and the floor together. I will account for the laws of physics.”

You watched as Jungwon clicked his tongue in annoyance. Keeping your eyes on the opposite wall, it was a shock when the metal ball was lodged into a hole in the wall within the blink of an eye. Your body flinched at the noise it created before your eyes could register the sight, and you grimaced when you saw how Jungwon pulled a face and shrunk into himself angrily.

“No normal strength control at all, which is also expected as a new vampire,” Sunghoon said as he walked over to the wall. He tapped the ball with the tip of his fingers twice before he turned around and gestured toward Jungwon. “Now take it back out.”

The younger boy heaved a deep sigh, to which you let out a pitying, awkward giggle in response. Jungwon heard you from behind him and instinctively whipped his head around to face you, his expressive brows furrowed to show his discontent with the check-up process.

Unfortunately, you could do nothing about it, so all you did was offer him a thumbs up and a genuine “You’re doing great!”

Jungwon patted his shaking knees at your brief and repeated encouragement. It was not in his nature to retort; it has never been! He knew he sometimes felt frustrated with authority figures, but he was very strict with expressing those feelings.

This newfound courage to talk back whenever his mind wanted to, or even when he did not feel the situation to be all that emotional, was not something he enjoyed.

“Yeah, whatever.” He sluggishly got off the bed and headed over to Sunghoon.

He curtly stared at the broken wall before quickly pulling the metal ball out between the cracks and handing it back to Sunghoon, just for him to walk behind his chair and callously throw the metal ball out the open window, all with a playful smile on his face.

“I am going to time you. Bring the lock back to me,” Sunghoon instructed.

“Is all of this necessary? I thought you already checked for my speed when you threw a lock at my face,” Jungwon uttered in annoyance. Without waiting for a response, he shrugged. “I’m not picking it up.”

Nervousness piqued in you at Jungwon’s response. Tightening your grip on the strap of your bag, you took a tiny step forward, hoping to provide some encouragement and guidance to the boy when Sunghoon held up his hand in motion for you to stop.

You stayed back then, curiosity riddled in your eyes as you watched Sunghoon move away from his desk and strode toward you.

“Fine, we don’t have to do that,” Sunghoon said casually as he glanced at his watch. “We can just–“

There was a windy shift in the air when Jungwon sped over to your corner and stumbled before you. You took a step back, equally as surprised as him.

Despite being taken back by seeing Sunghoon wordlessly swing his fist toward your general direction, Jungwon still found it in himself to react quickly enough to your defense. Perhaps even too quickly, he almost tripped on his feet, forcing himself to stop speeding forward.

When Jungwon grabbed hold of Sunghoon’s wrist, he heard a sound akin to that of glass breaking, and what followed was a sharp, burning sensation against his palm.

Retreating with a pained yelp, he touched his face and watched the redness slowly fade through the vampiric healing. Seeing his injury disappear brought him an awareness of the situation, and when he whipped his face toward the doctor, his first instinct was to lung at him.

Sunghoon had already anticipated this outcome. Therefore, stepping aside just in time to dodge the frustrated boy was no problem. Jungwon, surprised, sped across the room and slammed into the wall. He stumbled back with a hapless groan, his hand flying up to his forehead, where his cut immediately healed.

“Oh god,” you breathed out as you pushed Sunghoon aside and quickened your pace toward Jungwon. “Are you okay, Jungwon?”

You made a movement that insinuated your attempt to check on his face; your hands awkwardly hovered over Jungwon’s head, trying to remove his hands blocking his face.

Instead of allowing your good intentions, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and flicked your hands away from himself. His brows furrowed again into visible distaste when he turned away.

“I’m fine, jeez–I can’t even get injured anymore,” he muttered dismissively to you before looking up at Sunghoon, his real target. Curling his fists, he accused, “What the hell was that?”

“Calm down. It was a bluff,” Sunghoon explained dully, not before he threw you an apologetic smile. “You are fast, but you have no speed control. One point for you for being altruistic, though. Most new vampires who drop by don’t react when I do that to their counselors, and you just met yours.”

Jungwon almost cussed out loud, but he settled with an irritated scoff as he awkwardly stood on his spot. He barely shot you a glance as he was too busy glaring at the doctor, who was neither pleasant nor friendly, in his opinion.

But he may be right. Jungwon may be more altruistic than he thought himself to be. After all, he had no reason to shield that punch for you. He may hold good feelings for you, but those were more rooted on natural grounds than anything else.

It felt relieving to hear that he may still have a redeeming trait that is fundamentally part of what makes humanity: the instinct to help.

“Do you vampire doctors just go around fake punching people all the time?” Jungwon asked, crossing his arms and shrinking his shoulders now that he had learned of a new, mellowing perspective of himself. “Shouldn’t it be against ethical guidelines?”

“Only when necessary. I value my friendships, contrary to popular belief.” Sunghoon spared you a glance. “And no, it is not because I did not actually punch them.”

“I was talking about giving me a scare, both from throwing a lock at me and whatever you just did,” Jungwon clarified.

“Unfortunately, no. Laws to prosecute supernaturals are detailed, but laws that protect them are rarely discussed,” Sunghoon replied as he strolled over to his desk. He pulled open a lid and fished out a tongue depressor. Then, he returned to Jungwon.

Sunghoon stared down at the boy, not at all fazed by the familiar bloodshot eyes and peeking fangs. He did not think he went overboard. If anything, he gave a fair warning about the hard time Jungwon would have if he hadn’t started fixing his issues.

But he knew he would never pull stunts like that if his patient was a human, which should not be a behavior difference that matters.

Insensitivity has its perks and its downfall. The only wall stopping him from repeating the same methods to humans is the law, not his morals.

On some level, Sunghoon treated everyone equally, albeit his equality stood on the ground of making everyone miserable. In his opinion, it was better than how the majority viewed supernaturals.

Thanks to globalization and evolution, perspectives have improved in recent years. However, there was still blatant discrimination against supernatural beings that Jungwon participated in through silence.

Jungwon still had much to learn and experience. Truth be told, Sunghoon was not looking forward to the vampire’s journey of discovering how it feels to be a vampire in this world, but there was nothing he could do.

He was merely a graduate student gaining accessible experiences through supernatural beings so he could be on his way to becoming a human doctor. If anyone should speak on this social matter, he could never be the one.

“The law may favor me, but you are stronger than me,” Sunghoon muttered. “Justice does not exist in a casket.”

Jungwon wavered as the power dynamic single-handedly balanced itself between him and Sunghoon.

As of right now, the strongest person in the room was him—he was the strongest and the fastest. He may be less experienced, but if a fight broke out, it would not be a battle of brains but of brawn. He would win that battle, and Sunghoon told him that he knew. It was not in his favor to anger anyone.

Everything Sunghoon did was part of his plan to access a quality he didn’t say he was testing for.

“Open your mouth, I am going to check your fangs,” Sunghoon said, his voice softer.

Jungwon appeared confused for a second. Then, he realized his sharp teeth were pocking at his bottom lip.

Embarrassed, he averted his gaze at the ceiling and parted his mouth in cooperation. He squinted his eyes when he felt a few feathery taps against the end of his fangs, almost as if Sunghoon was checking for their sturdiness. Then, the wooden stick retreated from his mouth.

“Everything looks normal.” Sunghoon said briefly before he asked, “Can you try making your fangs go?”

Clamping his mouth shut, Jungwon lowered his head and stared ahead. Much like before, he was as clueless as he could be. There was no idea how he should go about retracting his fangs. He didn’t even know they were out in the first place; his heightened emotions were a perfect blind that shut before his consciousness, making him too aware of his surroundings but not himself.

“I don’t know how,” he said eventually, letting his fangs rest on his bottom lip.

“That’s okay.” Sunghoon nodded before proceeding to hold his hand up. He showed Jungwon his palm and tapped his finger against it. “Show me your palm.”

Jungwon mirrored the action, and Sunghoon quickly accessed the center of his palm. It was as expected: the red burn caused by Sunghoon’s vervain bracelet had faded entirely.

It would be troubling if it hadn’t, considering how small the dose of vervain was. Vampires should be able to sustain up to a significant amount of injuries at a time before the rate of their healing declines. As for individual limitation, there was no way of accessing that without literally having to torture patients, so that part would not be measured.

“The burning sensation was from the plant vervain. Vampires are allergic to them,” Sunghoon said. “The pain you felt should be a good enough reason to stay away from them, so I will not bore you with a reminder. Your healing is normal, but don’t take that as an incentive to abuse it.”

“Vervain…” Jungwon mumbled in thought, then chuckled, “It’s like on that vampire show.”

“Huh?” Sunghoon squinted his eyes lightly as he stopped in his tracks. “I don’t watch those things.”

“I think it is originally a book series,” you chimed in.

“I don’t read fiction.”

Jungwon gasped in disbelief. Somehow, that was the worst thing Sunghoon had done to him today. Storybooks were his escape growing up! His mother never had the time to read him any, and lord forbid his father ever pick up a book to lull him to sleep, so he always read them on his own.

When he didn’t understand the words, he would look at the pictures and create his own story until he could string everything together coherently.

Then he got older, and the books he read had no pictures. But his creative mind made up for it. The world existed in his head vividly. Those were his version of storybook illustrations.

It was an escape. It brought him joy, and it made him forget.

“Hold your horses now. Just because I don’t read it doesn’t mean I hate it,” Sunghoon said absentmindedly as he fiddled with the device.

Jungwon eyed the device curiously—it looked like a compass, but it also looked like it could be a beeper.

The soft ticking sounds it made as Sunghoon tuned it about made him anxious; he had never been fond of the sound of clocks ticking. It was not linked to any reasons why. It merely bothered him. It could sometimes depend on the clock’s quality, or perhaps it was how each tick reverberated in the air.

He just didn’t like it; unfortunately, he became hyperaware of it now that his hearing was severely heightened.

“You can hear the ticking sounds, Jungwon?”

The boy widened his eyes and nodded at the abrupt question. Sunghoon hummed, and he turned the dial again. The noise became quieter this time, but it was fairly present. Jungwon nodded again when he was asked the same question, and he repeated the process twice before finally shaking his head to indicate that he could no longer hear the ticking noises.

“Below average hearing, above average sight,” Sunghoon commented as he pulled open his chair and sat down. “Maybe you will hear it when you gain more control. You might be disrupted by the fact that you are subconsciously hearing many things at once right now.”

You faintly clapped your hands and cheered with a whisper, to which you knew Jungwon could hear. He did not turn to face you this time; unbeknownst to you, he allowed himself a tiny smile.

“We’re finished here.” Sunghoon waved as he looked up after finishing his writing. He motioned toward the door to the room and said, “Jungwon, please leave the room and close the door behind you. [Name], stay back because I need to talk to you.”

“Leave the room? I still got these on me!” It was a borderline whine that came out of Jungwon as he aggressively pointed at his face, where his bloody eyes and fangs were still visible. “I am not going out like this.”

“Helping you retract your fangs is out of my job description,” Sunghoon clarified calmly as he laced his fingers together to form a mock professional gesture. When Jungwon stayed stubborn on his spot, he sighed to lower his alerted demeanor. “Everyone working in this building has seen a vampire do that before. I say this with the utmost kindness–nobody cares.”

Dejected, Jungwon’s voice was strained with unpleasantness, but his legs were obediently taking him out the door. “Make it more obvious that you want me out of here so you can talk about me, why don’t you?”

“Well, I am certainly not asking [Name] out to dinner, so I don’t know what you are expecting, Jungwon,” Sunghoon retorted as he stood up, seeing that you were approaching him with a deadpan expression. Looking behind you, he flashed Jungwon a short wave and a mindless comment, “You can’t be putting everyone’s opinion of you to heart as a vampire! It’s going to haunt you for centuries. Literally!”

When the door closed behind Jungwon, you let the hell in your patience break loose, and you gave Sunghoon’s shoulder a harsh smack. He barely budged from his spot, feigning surprise at your action and patting the spot on his white coat as if to dust off the filth.

You scoffed at his careless reaction, tugging at your bag more tightly to keep yourself from strangling the indifference out of him.

“First of all, that was harsh. He is going through a lot right now. He can deal with less of your antics,” you scolded in a hushed tone, not wanting to give Jungwon a reason to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Second, you promised you wouldn’t do the bluff thing again! I wouldn’t report you to the board, but other staff working here who don’t like you will jump at the chance to report you!”

Sunghoon knew that.

There was a running joke that there could only be one Jake Sim in this building (which was obviously the man himself), meaning that no matter the chaos he caused, he would never get fired from his job.

The catch was that Jake was very good at his job, which Sunghoon was too, except doctors are expendable, and mentors are a completely different story.

Good doctors do their job. Good doctors tell the truth. Good doctors do what is required for them to do, which is to diagnose, access, and heal. You can find one in a medical school graduation ceremony with a blindfold, and that student would not fall too far from the decent spectrum.

Mentors do their job, but good mentors also build relationships. Good mentors learn the balance between true and false and know where to stick you on the see-saw so that you can see the horizon. Good mentors tell you yes even when the answer leans toward no, and when you mess up, they take responsibility.

A good doctor may not be a good person, but a good mentor most likely will be.

Sunghoon knew where he stood in the spectrum of human decency.

Sunghoon also knew where you stood.

The stigma surrounding his reputation did not start with him behaving questionably to the people he worked with. He may have unconventional opinions about every topic one could discuss and may do things out of the ordinary that people disagree with, but he is not a bad person. His lack of conformity was an act of retaliation.

His colleagues did not like him from the start of his internship. There were no first impressions, second chances, personalities, or background stories. Sunghoon was a man who grew up smarter than everyone else, richer than everyone else, and better-looking than everyone else.

Nobody liked him because he had his life set out for him from birth and because he was so conventionally perfect that the only way to pick on him was through the one thing he lacked—empathy.

A doctor without feelings; shame, shame, shame! How could he be successful? How could he be fit to do work rooted in the basis of humanity? How could he ever heal anybody with that empty heart of his? Screw his smarts! Screw his intelligence! A monster disguised as a good man is no good! A wolf in sheep’s clothing is no good!

(Obviously, there is no logical sense in trying to degrade a man with no empathy, but irony tends to be lost on people with passionate, blind hatred.)

Sunghoon’s preposterous behavior was an act of retaliation. If he was to be hated so much, he might as well become hatred itself. At least that way, he wouldn’t have to act according to protocols and pretend he thinks of what he does not care about.

He had no issue doing that; he had been that way for however long he could remember. He was all brains with the shell of a heart for a while until the heart came in the form of you.

“I was harsh because he got an attitude. I don’t care if he has an attitude with me, but he was scoffing and rolling his eyes at you, and I will not tolerate that.” Sunghoon made a poor attempt at explaining himself, but he remained confident when he spoke that it was hard not to think he was right.

“His parents aren’t here to discipline him now, so I might as well take up the job.”

“Oh my god! You can’t just say that!” you exclaimed in disbelief, bows furrowed and hands on your hips as if you were about to beat the manners into him. “I don’t think he can help throwing a little tantrum right now, considering the trauma he went through.”

He smirked, an airy laugh escaping his lips with bewilderment laced around its corner.

“First, you should know how much I care about people’s experiences. Second, we still cannot reinforce this kind of behavior. It’s not like I punished him or anything. I just gave him a few jabs here and there. If I turn out to be the bad person, which I am, then so be it.”

“But you’re not a bad person,” you responded without hesitation, but there was grit in your voice that Sunghoon had never heard before. “I heard what you told him. You were trying to get him to understand he has control in this situation. That was a really good thing you did.”

Except it wasn’t. Sunghoon voluntarily dropped the power dynamic between himself and Jungwon, which was a deliberate action.

He calculated it with caution as his motive after understanding Jungwon’s lack of control over his vampirism. He gave Jungwon a piece of candy after pushing the boy to the ground and finding out he was invulnerable to harm. It had nothing to do with how comfortable Jungwon felt and everything to do with his safety.

But you thought it was a good thing. You always thought so, and you always noticed.

It was him releasing alerted vampires out of their locked dorm rooms and into the courtyard at night. He said it was an act of rebellion against certain sponsors he heard had been bothering him when, in reality, he believed that even the most uncontrollable people deserve to feel the moon shine on their skin.

Or him refusing to take on a case requested of him by the faculty, claiming that it was too plain and simple for someone of his caliber, claiming that the patient wasn’t interesting enough for him to take a look at, or that it was a bad look to have an intern work on such a dull task.

But he also overheard that the vampire wasn’t ready to meet anyone, that she had only needed some more time before being accessed and checked on.

Even the way he directed Jungwon’s distaste onto himself just then, which he said was about discipline and being disrespected. What he really thought was that it was infinitely better than letting the boy blame himself in silence.

It was a temporary antidote, but even for a second, Sunghoon thought it was good that Jungwon stopped hating himself for killing his parents.

There was peace in Sunghoon’s violence, and you knew that.

He knew where you stood, which was always next to him. If anyone has his back in this building, it is you; he has yours.

“Take this and give it to Jay. He has a lot to work on with that kid out there,” Sunghoon said as he fished out a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to you. He smiled when you received it, waiting for you to fold it and put it away before catching your attention with another gift. “And I want you to have this.”

You glanced at his hand as he held it out to you. Standing in the middle of his palm was a metal, beaded bracelet, which you can see Sunghoon wearing on his wrist.

The center bead was visibly bigger than the rest of the bracelet, and you could see traces of purple gleaming along the surface. The color was made more transparent when reflected off a light source.

“It’s a vervain bracelet. The purple lines in the center bead have vervain liquid inside it. It is easily breakable under impact, and when it breaks, poof!” He made a motion of explosion with his free hand, his face contorting to fit the moment of ridiculousness.

“It can’t kill a vampire, but it can certainly catch them off guard, and the residue that gets on your skin can last a long time.”

“Jungwon is not going to hurt me if that is what you’re concerned about,” you said with a soft sigh.

“You quite literally do not know that,” he argued as he grabbed your hand and placed the bracelet in your palm. “Do you remember what happened last time?”

“That was my fault.” Your voice was grim as you recalled the last incident with an angered vampire.

You could say you were at the wrong place at the wrong time because you usually do not stay for the duration of vampire training. Neither Jay nor Jake (what a mouthful!) encouraged humans to be in the gymnasium during a training session.

You had stood by because you thought you had the obligation—you did schedule another training meet-up against the client’s will out of necessity. When Jay was irrationally pointing out their flaws, they directed their anger toward the source.

You were, undoubtedly, the source.

"No, it was that vampire's fault, whoever they are," Sunghoon pointed out factually, keeping the heated grudge in his chest to a minimum. He could not afford to have another breakdown over that incident. "They tried to cheat the system and get a discharge earlier than they should. Jay pointed out their lack of progress, albeit he can be harsh sometimes. If they get angry, it is on them. Attacking you had only proved Jay's point."

When he saw the grimace on your face, he flicked your forehead to snap you out of your guilted trance. You met his eyes with a glare. He only smirked in return.

"You made the right decision that time, but this time? Not so much," he made a humming noise as he tilted his head for a playful effect, and then he eyed you thoughtfully. "I think you don't want to hurt Jungwon."

“I am definitely not throwing rusty locks at his face, that’s for sure,” you retorted after a moment of thought. You left your palm out, leaving the bracelet up for grabs and indicating to him that you genuinely thought you didn't have to have it. “It isn’t just him either. I have vampire friends. Heeseung is my friend. Jake and Jay are both people I talk to every day.”

"Heeseung would probably want to be more than that," Sunghoon casually added, wiggling his brows up and down playfully, which you wholeheartedly ignored as you always have when he talked about Heeseung's feelings for you.

His face fell flat after a moment of silence. He stared at you; his brilliant eyes, for once, held less intelligence and more tenderness in them. This has been an unlikely friendship, and it has been one that he treasured however much he could.

He has your back; he promised himself once. He would look out for you, nag you like a father, and cover up a murder for you.

And never again would he go through the hopeless torment of panicking when a staff burst through his office door with you unconscious on their back, blood trailing out the holes in your neck and the wound visible on your forehead.

And he could think of nothing aside from shouting your name loud enough for Heeseung, who had thankfully been somewhere in this building, to hear.

Sunghoon needed you to be safe. He needed you to take every precaution there is to be safe.

“Jungwon is a good kid, I will admit that. But a vampire who doesn’t know how to control himself cannot be more than that. If it makes you feel bad to villainize his potential, then let me be the person to do it,” he told you as he flicked your forehead gently. “Just wear the bracelet. Consider it a favor requested.”

You smirked to yourself as you carefully wore the bracelet on your wrist. You were never going to refute his caution, anyway. While you did think wearing the bracelet may be an act of overthinking, you did plan to keep it with yourself just in case you needed it. When you were done adjusting the newfound weight on your wrist, you held your arm up and showed it to your friend.

“There! Does this make you feel better, hmm?” You said, shaking your wrist at his face.

Sunghoon only chuckled in agreement, pushing your hand away while stepping back. Neither you nor he bid each other a verbal farewell when you turned around and left for the door. Sunghoon watched your back for a moment before he returned to his desk, getting ready to pile up some documents for work.

Jungwon quickly turned away when he heard your footsteps near the other side of the door. He had not been eavesdropping intentionally. Like Sunghoon said, he has been hearing everything at once, so your conversation with the doctor could not escape his grasp either.

He wished he didn't have to hear what you both have to say about him, though, because all he felt was guilt knowing that you bear no ill will toward him, not even after he gave you an attitude you did not deserve.

It might make him feel better if he settled with the assumption that you lied, knowing he could be eavesdropping on your conversation, but even then, it did not give you any reason not to get pissed at him for being nosy.

Most importantly, though, he did not like hearing that he was a potential danger to others. He spent his whole life falling victim to the danger created by others. Now it felt like the roles were reversed instead of destroyed. They were reversed the second he became a vampire, but he could ignore it until a professional confronted him about it indirectly.

Jungwon sluggishly slid his body against the wall, feeling the tip of his fangs poke at his bottom lip for a moment—lord, they were still there! The most prominent threat of his being stayed present on his face, and he hated it.

His fangs were equivalent to the beer bottle in his mother's hands and the raging veins on his father's neck. He could not get rid of dangerous, harmful, or disastrous things even if he tried. It was a shame.

Letting out a mumbled groan, he turned his body over to face the wall completely. He shoved his hands in his pockets and dipped his head, letting his hood cover most of his face as he buried himself against the wall. He wanted to shrink into thin air. He wanted to stop existing entirely.

“Is this an attempt to hide?” You asked lightheartedly once you saw him, your eyes scanning his figure as if trying to find his hidden face.

“Yes,” Jungwon replied with a nod.

You sighed, stepping closer without ceasing your attempt to see him. "Are your fangs still out?"

“Yes,” he replied again but much quieter. His nod was more of an indication of his answer than his voice was.

Your smile softened. You would reassure Jungwon that he looked fine if you could, but you knew it was futile to make him feel better. A teenager as cynical as him would rather accuse you of your deception, if anything. You could only give him time and privacy to prepare for all that he must do after this terrible day. That level of sympathy you gave him was against the worker's guidelines.

The rehabilitation center may be funded richly, with ample technologies, knowledge, equipment, and space to accomplish its purpose. But the hearts of those in power lacked empathy for those who suffer, and no amount of money could ever earn you a heart that beats for others.

"We are supposed to meet the coaches today. They will teach you how to properly control your vampirism, which you must learn if you want a shot of getting out of here with no dire criminal record," you whispered closely to him. "But if you're uncomfortable right now, we can put that off until later today."

Jungwon bit his lower lip and cringed at the sheer pointedness of the stab. Even though the fangs were on his face, he still forgot their existence. That must be a form of indication that he would be a lousy vampire.

He could get famous from this: the world's stupidest vampire, Yang Jungwon, who killed his parents at the tender age of seventeen, but the clock was not in his favor!

God, he felt stupid. So stupid.

“My fangs are still out,” he said. I feel ugly. He wanted to add.

“The coaches are vampires. I don’t think they will mind,” you responded.

That was not what he was whining about. To him, meeting with familiar individuals wouldn't serve him the comfort he needed. Not that he needed comfort! He wanted solutions, an end to this madness, and a path to the vampire who did this to him so he could timidly act on his vengeance. Unless another vampire could provide resources for all those, he would not enjoy meeting them.

You watched his disheartened expression with ease. This was not the first time you encountered new vampires who disliked how their vampirism looked, for most of them have known the blood veins and black eyes to be a sign of danger, and no beings like to exist as what they are taught to avoid.

You have learned there wasn’t much you could say but to provide a sense of belonging.

Not so much in the sense of inclusion or blending in. That could happen later. It was more to show that there is no harm done in their presence being here, that their being anywhere is not a crime or a disservice.

“Nobody here minds you,” you said. “I don’t mind you.”

But you have to say that, surely? Or could you be telling the truth? Was it a lie disguised as comfort? Did it matter if it was? Did it matter if it was anything?

There was comfort in your words, even though he was hell-bent on acting as if logical solutions to his problems were all he needed. He knew he liked the sound of the comfort; he felt awkward receiving it, but there was no denying the relieved exhale he let out.

Jungwon gave you a peek, his frown deepening in thought. He felt the retracting of his fangs for a second, but the second he was aware of them, they grew back.

Kindness was kept on your face, a smile that went a long way to meet him, and he thought he wanted to do what you asked. He thought he wanted to be nice to you, listen well, and not complain.

"I bet they look like sparkling royalties," he grumbled as he pushed himself off the wall and stumbled away. He stopped to look back at you, his confused gaze asking you to give him directions.

“You are half correct about that,” you laughed as you brushed past him to walk ahead, leading him to where he needed to go. “They don’t look like royalties, but they do sparkle.”

Jungwon knew you lied to him about vampires sparkling.

In fact, he was living proof of what a vampire would look like, which was neither akin to royalty nor Tinker Bell because he believed he possessed neither of those elements.

He already knew the truth. Besides, he would be naive to believe in what was blatantly a joke. Yet, when he saw that the vampire couch in the gymnasium was nothing short of a sweating and intimidating man, he felt betrayed.

“Your kid is studying me like a hawk,” Jay muttered to you after he leaned down to be at your ear level. He shared a glance with you and furrowed his brows semi-humorously, debating whether he wanted to meet Jungwon’s eyes in return. “Also, his fangs are out.”

“He is agitated. The police station just sent him here not too long ago,” you replied as you rummaged through your pockets and gave him a slip of paper clipped between your fingers. “Sunghoon told me to give this to you.”

You did not give him enough time to dwell on what you said. He received the paper with a quiet thanks and examined it immediately, his brows furrowed at the unsightly, doctor-like handwriting Sunghoon had. The note briefly noted Jungwon’s poor vampiric beginning.

The limited information given by Sunghoon was about what Jay expected would be written on there, which was that Jungwon has all the power a man would hope for and none of the physical or emotional control over it.

He has met and trained a diverse group of newly turned vampires—from young to old, from knowledgable and clueless, from excited to depressed. Jungwon and his ordinary self were no exception when it came to boring Jay’s decades of experiences.

“Sunghoon wrote that he is altruistic,” Jay commented in faint surprise, not because Jungwon possessed a human characteristic but because Sunghoon complimented someone.

You scoffed a laugh as you briefly looked to the side at Jungwon. The boy was tapping his feet impatiently with his head now hung low. You assumed he heard what Jay said about his staring, but it could just as likely be him trying to hide his face.

Leaning closer to Jay, you recalled, “Sunghoon tried to punch me–it was a bluff. He sped over and slammed into the wall.”

“That shows that he is altruistic. Why?” Jay questioned.

You shrugged in response. “I don’t know. He might just be angry, but we like to think part of him wanted to block the punch for me.”

You saw him roll his eyes and knew he had something to say about your assumptions. You also knew what he wanted to say and were glad he kept his mouth shut.

Out of all your colleagues, Jay was the one who warned you the most about the predatory nature of vampires.

While Sunghoon also worries greatly because of his naturally untrusting nature, the smart-ass tends to take action rather than talk. Hence, he gave you the bracelet to wear. Jay was different. Jay was good at the negative talking and the paranoid over-assuming.

His nagging exaggerated for a while after your incident, to which he silently blamed his own harshness as fault for your trauma.

Until today, no matter how many times you pushed him out of the equation, he wondered if things would have gone differently if he had been nicer to people.

But he has made no effort to change his attitude. His harshness was not a fault, even though it has caused mistakes.

What he did was take steps to prevent it, and he did that by spreading repeated warnings to you whenever he could.

Be careful of vampires. Be wary of vampires. They can and will hurt you. Pain and death are where vampires come from, after all. Please don’t get hurt, don’t let them hurt you. If you get hurt, I get hurt.

He has never voiced it. He assumed you understood with the way he loved the people around him.

It wasn’t that Jay believed in a lack of goodness in vampires. Never take his negativity as a case of personal beliefs. He wasn’t a bad vampire, and he knew that. Jake was far from a murderous vampire, and everyone knew that. Rather, he found himself needing to be the cautious one.

He has to be careful and aloof so Jake, the more cheerful part of the duo, can live believing in the best of people. Because Jake has never had the heart in him to think ill of anyone, and because his loving heart will break under the pressure of cruelty.

The negativity does not hurt Jay. For decades, he chose to live with doom and gloom, and it does not hurt him because he will do anything for Jake. However, it was not something you like to hear, so you appreciate it when he keeps it to himself unless necessary.

“I don’t blame him for being angry. He did turn because of an assault when he was heading home from school,” you informed as quietly as you could.

Jay hummed lowly in acknowledgment, but there was barely any shred of compassion in him as he continued the conversation casually.

“Most of us turned because of an assault. A vampire that didn’t drain our blood completely, a vampire that thought it would be fun to use the sire bond to manufacture a group of followers. Hell, the last person I trained got lucky and took some blood from the vampire that attacked him during self-defense.”

“Then you would understand the consequences of experiencing that.” You nudged his arm lightly and flashed him a pointed glare, willing him to be more outwardly compassionate.

That Jay understood. How could he not? His own transition was far from a dreamy occasion.

He was a measly boy working at a bar, wiping tables and mopping the floor, who got caught in the path of a condescending vampire who wanted the newfound power. He endured a torturous night, the details of it locked behind his lips and Jake’s memories.

Before the brink of his death, his best friend came to a messy rescue. He was supposed to be healed, but the angry man snatched him from Jake’s arms and staked a knife through his heart, not noticing that Jake had already fed his blood.

The emotions he felt after he opened his eyes again were indescribable, mostly because he felt nothing. Perhaps he could pass it off as vengeance or infuriation, but his goal had not been to take back what was stripped from him.

e could say he felt murderous, yet his actions were not attached to any emotions. He was without a plan, any clues, or a reason.

He was just a man who walked because he had to kill another man because he could kill another man.

He had been cruel, and he unlearned that in decades’ worth of time. Although unlearned, it was never forgotten. The violence only slipped between the gaps of his fingers and dripped away from his fingertips, where he had immediate access. But it could quickly come back.

His anger and the immense strength that came with it could return with just a snap of his mind.

“You will have to be in touch with Heeseung and me about his training progress more consistently,” you told him after giving a moment of silence.

“Because of the court cases? I already do that,” Jay muttered,

“No, this one is special,” you said, leaning in to speak as quietly as you could for irrational reasons. Jungwon could hear you if he wanted to. “He killed his parents just before the clock struck on his birthday. Technically, the murder happened when he was a minor, but he was arrested as an adult and could very well be charged as one, but–“

“He is only eighteen years old.”

“–he is only eighteen years old.”

Your voice dropped slowly upon Jay’s knowing echo of your words. Then your shoulders slumped as the complications and the sheer stupidity of those complications hit you in the face.

Vampiric control aside, supernaturals aside, the jump between seventeen and eighteen does not entail the process of maturation the law states that it has.

Or, at least, for the apparent moral dilemmas, it does not exist.

A seventeen-year-old or a thirteen-year-old child knows just as well as any adult that killing people is terrible. Those are not taught by experiences or maturity. Those are things a human being just knows.

So why should Jungwon be given a lighter sentence? Did his tragic circumstances come into play? Was it his young age or his perceived innocence? Why should children who understand the moral slope of heinous crimes be given juvenile punishments? Did the rules of nature and magic become a considerable factor?

Was it our empathy, the very thing we pride ourselves in? Was it our ability to mix black and white to various degrees of gray? Was it fair to argue “but“ when death exists?

But they are children. But they were defending themselves. But they did it for a greater cause. But those people were bad. But they had no other choice. But they were forced to do this. But it was the lesser of two evils.

Circumstances and the compassion people have for them bring about inequality in legal punishments, and justice calls for inequality. It is fair sometimes.

Sometimes, you look at an eighteen-year-old, and you think how unfair it would be that he be sentenced to a hundred years in prison for a crime he did not wish to commit after being turned into a creature he did not ask to become.

“I don’t feel bad for him,” Jay said, breaking the silence.

“Plenty of people already don’t,” you said with a heavy exhale. “Maybe it will do him good to not treat him like a victim, though. He doesn’t need any more pitiful spotlight than he already puts himself under.”

"Well, I have never been one to treat people like babies." Jay smiled as he folded the piece of paper Sunghoon had written on and shoved it into his pockets.

He stepped away from you to see your face better, and his heart softened. His mind was playing tricks on him, but he thought you were beginning to look just a little older than him.

To think you two were the same physical age when you first joined the rehabilitation center, and now you were nearing the end goal of your career dream.

"How is the doctorate program treating you?" He asked. "You have plans to work here when you finish school?"

“Probably not. I am studying to be a researcher, not a counselor,” you replied.

“Bummer,” he laughed. “The kids always leave.”

You scrunched your nose in dismay and then looked at him with the same discomfort. "Get out of the habit of saying that. I will look older than you at some point, and it will sound awkward when you refer to me as a kid."

“Once again, conveniently forgetting that I am about a couple hundred years older than you,” he hummed in defeat.

“It’s not my fault you were attacked and turned at twenty years old." You accessed the changes in his facial expression—he gave you a playfully disapproving look, and you laughed. “I’m sorry. Don’t refer to me as a kid, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jay exclaimed jokingly as he knocked his knuckles against the side of your head, his feet taking him away from you and toward Jungwon. “You are already starting to look older than me.”

You raised your fist as a threat to throw him a punch. Your eyes followed him toward the gymnasium door, and you worried for a split second when you saw that Jungwon's eyes brightened in alert upon Jay's approach.

Then, quickly, you caught a glimpse of a moving figure by the double doors. When you focused on it, you could see a head of fluffy black peeking over the door frame, and you pursed your lips into a faint smile.

Heeseung gripped his phone excitedly when he saw you approach him.

He has been running around all day since his shift started (if it ever ends). Jungwon's case came crashing into the legal department of the rehabilitation center this morning. With his unfortunate luck, it landed right in his supervisor's lab.

The peculiarity of this legal case has got him running in circles, gathering information and document, that his head had begun hurting since lunch hours.

Knowing he would see you at some point during the day kept him going. Thankfully, the time arrived earlier than usual.

Mostly, on a regular day, you two would meet up when your shift ends, which would be the time when Heeseung clocks out for dinner so he could spend an hour with you. You two would have dinner and, if time allows, walk around the busy street, and he would send you home before heading back to his office to work overtime.

“You look dapper,” you complimented with a grin.

Heeseung fixed the roll line of his blazer with a huffed giggle. He briefly glanced down at himself; at least his attire remained tidy. “Thank you,” he replied. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

You smirked, your eyes focusing nowhere. “I try my best. The dress code here is horrendous.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” he exclaimed under his breath, his brows furrowed almost passionately at the sudden emergence of a fashion topic. “I know most workplaces have their employees wear suits to work, but I am sweating my ass off in this! I don’t even know how there isn’t a wet patch on my back right now!”

Shifting your weight, you leaned back slightly to glance at his behind, to which he quickly responded by turning his body toward you and laughing. You shrugged innocently in response, the excuse of curiosity hanging quietly at your mouth as you half-heartedly apologized.

A refreshing wave washed through Heeseung upon seeing your shrunken smile. After facing plain walls of texts, exhausted colleagues, and an annoyed supervisor all day, it was satisfying to see you. As if seeing you was never the only highlight of his day anyway.

That aside, there was something he was initially here for—Jungwon’s trial.

“We’ve got ourselves in a bit of a pickle,” he initiated as he tapped his phone screen, a device he has been relentlessly communicating with you through today.

Afterward, he looked into the gymnasium and fixed his gaze on Jay. His brows furrowed at the boy he assumed to be Jungwon, and he huffed quietly, “Is that him?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s always good to put a face to a name,” Heeseung exhaled tiredly, trying to remove the frown that appeared when he saw Jungwon’s fangs were visible. “I have some important things to tell you about the case.”

You stood closer to him. You debated if you wanted to take this somewhere else, considering Jungwon’s supernatural hearing ability.

However, he was preoccupied following Jay’s seemingly horrendous instruction as the coach tested his vampiric abilities. Y

ou doubted he even had the time to listen in on your conversation. You hummed; Sunghoon did mention he was hearing everything at once, though. Eavesdropping may be out of his control.

Pulling at the hem of his blazer sleeve, you pulled Heeseung a few steps backward until you two reached the corner of the opposite wall. You flashed him a defeated look when he laughed and waved him off. “I wanted to make sure he can’t hear us.”

“Sure!” Heeseung replied. “You still have to tell him what we talked about, though. At least some of the information I have.”

“Of course.” You nodded before rubbing your hands together and looking at him expectantly. “So, how is it gonna go?”

Your breathlessness was not masked in your words, and how your brows furrowed contradicted the anticipated optimism in your eyes.

You were expecting lousy news while desperately hoping he could give you something to be wrong about, to which Heeseung could only react with a great hurt in his chest because he has little to no great news about this case.

“I won’t say what I have is necessarily bad news. It really just depends on how we view it,” he started lightly, the gestures in his hands reluctant. A pursed smile on his face signified thoughtfulness, which was familiar to him.

“Most important thing, this information is still tentative, but from what I have heard, they are assigning Judge Park to this case, which means–“

“We are doomed.”

“Not quite! Maybe we are, but I think we can work around it!”

You stared at Heeseung defeatedly, finding his forced optimism lackluster and uncomfortable. He returned your gaze with the same nervousness and the apologetic smile he had yet to wipe off his face upon giving you this terrible news.

Judge Park was known for his prejudice against supernaturals; he was often mean, vulgar, and antagonistic to every supernatural he had encountered in court.

Unfortunately, the lack of vile language allowed in such a professional setting was compensated with critical gazes, a narrow mind, a complete disregard for circumstances, and finally, a maximum sentence.

It was for understandable reason, although you vehemently disagreed with it anyway. Judge Park’s family was involved in a case of manslaughter done by a werewolf on a full moon. There was a brief debate online over the justification of his cruelty to supernatural beings.

For one, it is an unspoken law that human beings do not wander into the woodlands on any specially marked date on the universe calendar, such as the full moon (werewolves), the start of each season (fairies), or the third Sunday of November (yokai).

While it is given that supernaturals and human beings should live harmoniously together and that not all supernaturals are inherently dangerous, humans are responsible for protecting themselves and respecting the boundaries of non-human traditions.

Disregarding the universal knowledge of what happens to a werewolf on a full moon, as well as the warnings given by the witches, who act as the messengers of nature and magic, to not enter the dark woods, Judge Park took his family out to stargaze at the perfect spot deep in the woods anyway.

He believed that it was his freedom to do as he pleased and that he should not live in a world where he had to fear the danger of being killed. His belief was only magnified after his family’s death.

Some people agreed that the fault lay in the Judge himself. Most people did not venture into the forest during the full moon, knowing the potential harm that could happen to them, meaning that Judge Park’s disobedience is not a pattern but an oddity.

It was his fault for not following the rules, which everyone else had no issue abiding by. He has the right to grief and to be angry, but ultimately, he had what was coming for him.

Some others took this case as some sort of awakening and decided that Judge Park was right.

Why should human beings live in fear on certain days? Why should people not be allowed to stroll in the forest because some werewolves might lose control of it? If werewolves knew they would cause other people harm, they should be the ones locking themselves up in a basement. Take their issue somewhere private and stop bothering ordinary people with it!

Most people did not pick a side. Jungwon was one of them. As a child, his stance was that both sides were wasting their time. Sure, he would hate to be forbidden from visiting some places because some supernatural beings cannot control their biology, as ironic as that sounded.

At the same time, by the lord! If people are going to complain about not going to the forest for one night, maybe they don’t deserve to have an opinion at all! Whiny bastards deserve nothing!

Since that publicized tragedy, Judge Park has been strictly cruel to supernaturals, disregarding their circumstances. His bias was blatant, but there has been no outcry about it.

Only a tiny portion of human beings have gathered together to talk about this issue. In contrast, most others simply went about their day realizing that their significantly shorter lifespan did not need the social pressure that has very little to do with their species.

Jungwon may fall victim to that.

“There is one thing I figure we might be able to do to appeal to him,” Heeseung mentioned after he took an exhausted breath. He waited a moment before he spoke, “My supervisor thinks this is a far stretch, but I think if we emphasize Jungwon’s accident, we might have a fighting chance.”

“I thought Judge Park doesn’t consider tragedies,” you pointed out, brows furrowed.

“He doesn’t, but his record shows that most cases involved adult offenders. I mean old adults, like people in their thirties, which makes sense since he is not a juvenile judge.” Heeseung rolled his eyes as his voice fell off. “But I suspect he tends to be assigned to cases with older perpetrators because he doesn’t like sentencing younger people.”

He held out his index finger to signal you to hold your opinion. He has more to say. Even though his supervisor may be correct that his assumption was a stretch to the moon, he has to believe in himself somehow to feel a sense of security in this case.

Not only did he think he was obligated to win his cases as a law student, but his perfectionism would not allow him any other path but success.

“Jungwon is exactly the age of his son when the accident happened. Similarly, Jungwon was also attacked by a supernatural, therefore committing the crime that he did,” Heeseung said. “Bringing up that similarity and reminding Judge Park that Jungwon was just a normal boy before the uncontrollable incident happened might just steer us down the winning road.”

“So we are using the excuse that he is young, that he has a whole life ahead of him, and that this is technically not his fault as our defense,” you muttered with a raise of your brows. “We’ve all heard that one before.”

“Hey! One point can be made moral in one argument and not in another!” He retorted in a silent scream. “The world is gray, not black and white!”

“Nothing about being manipulative is morally upright.”

“And I don’t claim to be a saint.” Heeseung smiled with a boyish shrug. “Lord knows I’m not in the eyes of the anti-believers… and the believers….” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Do the bible believers and the supernatural haters make up one Venn diagram, where the middle just has the word vampire crossed out with bright red paint?”

Your best friend chuckled, his voice as hearty as his smile, as he barely dodged your arm slap. You had rolled your eyes at him, but you appreciated the occasional jokes he still managed to make despite such a stressful situation.

Then, silence fell between the gap where you two stood. Heeseung stood staring at you. It is, on occasion, the only thing he knew how to do. It has been that way for months after you two befriended each other at university.

You merely looked elsewhere to dismiss his blatant gaze, but your heart cooed. If any of your friends saw this, especially Sunghoon, they would mock you again.

Jungwon looked normal again. His fangs had retracted from his gums, and his eyes were of a usual, boyish glint once again. He had removed his hoodie and left himself with only a shirt, probably to combat the heat from doing more vampire tests for his record file.

You were unsure what Jay taught or made him do, but Jungwon looked significantly more comfortable with a more knowledgeable vampire in his presence. He looked excited as he listened intently to what Jay was teaching him.

“He should be at school,” you whispered to Heeseung, then you looked at him in realization. “We have to help him catch up with his college application.”

Heeseung widened his eyes, his gears turning. “College…? He has to turn in late applications at this point.”

“That’s what I told him.” You nodded in agreement.

“Okay… that should be no problem,” he mentioned, although the light tremor in his voice betrayed his spoken optimism. “We will have to visit his school anyway to talk about his attendance and ask if we can bring any of his friends to testify in his favor. You can talk about college with the administration then.”

You nodded in agreement. “Just keep me posted about the schedules.”

“Got it.” Heeseung snapped his fingers. “We are still figuring things out, but for now, there are a few rules you need to make sure Jungwon follows to a T to make our side more compelling.”

Heeseung began to list things that seemed reasonable enough: Jungwon should use his vampiric abilities moderately. The best bet is that he only uses them during training and doctor's appointments. Never get caught using his powers to his advantage. Show up to all of his appointments.

Last but definitely not least, never ever harm a human being. These were all standard rules to follow for vampires being put on trial, so you were not surprised to hear them.

With your brief knowledge of Jungown, you doubted he would have issues following them. He might be exuding some form of teenage rebellion here and there, but those were limited to fits and tantrums, not sinking fangs into flesh and whatnot.

“You need to schedule therapy sessions for him,” Heeseung added. “The therapist will be called to court to testify. We need to clarify that his trauma isn't going to be used as a justification for potential future crimes.”

You furrowed your brows; that felt insensitive but not illogical, unfortunately. Not to mention, Heeseung could not afford to value emotions as a lawyer unless he needed to use them as a manipulative device.

He was good at it, but he was affected by it. There have been times, though, when you could hear in his drunken haze (a rare sight; vampires do not get drunk quickly) that the first thing he would do after turning a hundred years old was to leave this career.

With a soft nod and a faraway hum, you let him know that you retained everything he told you and would take care of it.

You turned your head and looked into the gymnasium again. You caught Jungwon’s eyes this time. He may have been resting or staring curiously at the man you were talking to. You debated whether to introduce them to each other until Jungwon removed himself from a social opening by turning away completely.

There was an unsatisfactory pout on his face to show that he hated something, whatever it was. Your best guess was that he was thrown into this whole situation.

Having to meet you and everyone else, having to follow rules that could affect his livelihood, having to train and learn new ways of living—he probably hated everything that had happened so far, and you could only hope to get him out of it.

“Can you do that?”

Jungwon has blocked your voice out. He couldn’t recall precisely when his head began to tune your voice out, but he suspected it had something to do with him having to follow more rules for the sake of his manslaughter trial.

But he knew he didn't entirely tune you out. After all, what you told him concerned his livelihood, which, if all goes well, would last for a painfully long time.

Don't use his vampire powers, get used to his abilities, don't hurt human beings, and control your emotions—he heard what you said. His act of blocking you out was more of a silent tantrum. It was something that screamed that he was exhausted and had no intention of following you.

From today on, every step he takes would be an obligatory step. He takes them not because he wants to but because he has to.

Following the schedule curated for him by the rehabilitation system, he goes to training when it wants him to, and he goes to the doctor’s office when it asks him to.

He gets over killing his parents and their death under a pressuring amount of time because the court needs him to. Or else his mind rots in prison for the next hundred years.

Jungwon flicked his nails against his skin, a sense of vengeance flaring in his chest at the thought of his destiny's cruelty.

Nothing ever changed, and nothing ever will. He was trapped in his abusive parents' home. He got trapped in a body he never asked for. Thus, he is in a system that does not have his best interest in mind, and he will get stuck in prison because nothing ever goes well for him.

Pain was only ever the answer. He belonged to it.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Jungwon replied lowly. He glared at you, his gaze more tired than hateful. “If I don’t do this, I get punished.”

You sighed at a loss for words. Perhaps acting as if he had freedom when he was on the tightest leash ever known to mankind would be a mistake. You valued optimism, but false hope should never be disguised as such.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jungwon muttered. “This didn’t happen because of you.”

Your heart dropped further down your stomach, but you responded with a change of topic. “I will be booking you some sessions with our therapist. Just giving you a heads up.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed when he caught himself doing that.

He was getting more irritable as the day went on, which was unlike himself. The lack of his parents' existence gave him a false sense of freedom and relief.

Along with the confusion and pain, there were those meekly positive feelings. They made him feel whatever he wanted, and most importantly, they made him express those emotions whenever he wanted, regardless of how it could make others feel.

He was dissatisfied with the way he was acting. Growing up, he was conditioned to be the perfect child; by perfect, it meant sitting still and being quiet about his issues. Suddenly being forced to break out of that norm felt freeing and uncomfortable, not to mention how much his attitude affected others around him.

Sunghoon gave him a blatant reaction by holding little to nothing back when he expressed his indifference to him, even though Jungwon liked to think that man might be a peculiar case of a light-hearted psychopath.

While he was more at ease with Jay, he could tell the coach was choosing to be lenient with him, especially since Jay did not have the face of a kind man. You haven’t said anything, but he thought you must feel rather ill of him.

Everyone he has met so far has an obligation to help him, and all he did was be hissy about it.

"Would you like to wait a little before you talk to anyone about what happened?"

Your question broke Jungwon out of his trance. He looked at you, light surfacing back into his eyes as his mind focused on forming a response.

How has he been feeling? His mind blanked out at the question. He was never used to people asking about his feelings. Even if he was used to talking about them, how should someone feel about this?

His life just went through a dramatic, violent change, and he was to be prosecuted for it even though he had no control over the matter.

His body was no longer the same as it used to be; he was stronger, faster, and healthier in the most unnatural way possible.

His parents were gone, and the abuse went along with them to the depths of Hell. He became a killer and part of a discriminated group of people overnight.

How has he been feeling? Overwhelmed. He was so overwhelmed that he felt nothing.

He shrugged in response and muttered, “I don’t care.”

You hummed. “I will book the first session anyway so you can see how things work. If you don’t feel like talking about anything to a therapist yet, we can wait a little while before we continue.”

“But eventually, I will have to see one, right?” Jungwon asked rhetorically.

You knew what he was trying to say. “Yes. I can only try–“

“Well, don’t,” he cut you off. “Just tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.”

Jungwon pursed his lips to hold down a short quiver of guilt. He had never dared to talk like this and hated that out of everyone, he decided to act like this toward you.

You didn't give him much of a reaction. You only began scribbling words down in your notebook, which he didn't bother to read this time. When you're done, he timidly eyed you as you looked up from the table.

“Okay… this will be it for today. You should get some rest,” you said as you shut your notebook. “Our facility does provide housing services for our clients. If you don’t feel like going home, I can arrange a room for you to live in for the time being.”

Tapping his feet against the ground, he spared less than a second to deny your offer. “No, I’m just going to head home.”

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow then.” You flashed him a small smile. “There should be cabs waiting outside the facility to take you home. They are hired by the center, so don’t worry about paying.”

Jungwon exhaled inwardly at the cue to go home. He stood up, his ears wincing at the chair's squeak against the floor. He stood by your desk momentarily, debating whether to say something.

Anything would do; an apology, a thank you, or a simple farewell. His thoughts scrambled when you looked at him questioningly, and he quickly pulled a face at you before turning around and speeding out of your room.

You blinked in surprise, then you furrowed your brows.

Not even half a minute has passed since you told him about the rules he has to follow, and he has already used his super speed.

The empty apartment felt eerie to him.

Jungwon felt fine still when he unlocked and walked into his home. He was fine still when he closed the door and kicked his shoes off. But as soon as he turned the lights on and faced the grotesque living room, one stained with blood and touched by the hands of law enforcement, he found himself frozen on his spot.

Memories rushed to him now that he stood at the crime scene.

He remembered the pain he felt the first time his features changed. When the blood in his veins ran dark, his eyes clouded with a foggy haze, causing him to stumble about as his direction was guided only by the smell of blood.

When his teeth grew out of his gums to create fangs, his injuries healed simultaneously as his body broke itself down to accommodate his new identity. He had been sweating with a body heat rivaling that of the sun.

His drunk father probably couldn’t see his face clearly when he advanced toward him at a superhuman speed, only that he saw a beastly boy and determined that the boy must be his son.

Never once in his eyes has Jungwon ever been precious or lovely. The Jungwon who was suffering and the Jungwon who had blood drenching his skin was how his son had always been to him. Then, the creature attacked him.

What did his mother look like? Jungwon blocked that part out more carefully than he blocked out the sight of his father. His mother was not ugly.

He loved his mother, and she had been pretty despite the horror. He wished she didn’t have to suffer under his fangs, even though he did suffer by her drunken and fearful hands. She was probably scared of him in her last moments, though. He was sure her final thought was that her son would kill her.

Jungwon choked out in pain when he felt his eyes shimmer over with blood. He barely noticed his emotions boiling beneath his chest until they burst. The tears were pushed out of them when the blood took up all the spaces in his eyes, rolling down to his opened mouth and evaporating under the pierce of his fangs.

He was turning again, and he despised it. He despised himself.

“No! Stop it!” He shouted at himself as he doubled over and covered his face, only to pull his hands back when his fangs pierced through the base of his palm. “Stop it! You fucking idiot, stop turning!”

Disastrous child! Foul child! Your parents should have killed you when they had the chance!

They almost did it on multiple occasions, haven’t they? Where did that hatred and fear go, Jungwon? Did they go into the strength of your hands when you broke your mother’s wrist? Did they go into the pearl white of your fangs when you drained your father’s blood?

You murderous child! Death shall be upon you!

"Stop–help me! Please–it hurts–ughm!" He curled himself into a ball on the ground and immediately turned his face away when he smelt the residue of his parent's blood on the wood floor.

"It hurts! It hurts–help–ah!" He stood up quickly and ran into the nearby wall, breaking a hole through the weak barriers.

His forehead healed immediately, but he was able to relish in the fleeting pain. Death should be upon him—he did it again. The pain was still brief.

When everything was gone, his exhaustion prevented him from hurting himself again. Instead, he slowly slid to the ground. He pulled his legs to his chest, eyes glimmering with tears as he hiccuped uncontrollably. He cried and cried and cried, his sorrow drowning and suffocating with no way out.

He stared at the spot where he held his dead father's hand, lips mumbling apologies that he would never accept. Then, a sudden calmness descended upon him.

It was a voice in his head or something of an intention. A knowledge that popped into him in the form of vampiric instincts, signaling that there was something he could do to immediately take all his pain away. Something that could take everything away.

It was not death nor healing. It was a quick and easy escape. In his mind, that notion was like a beacon of light; all he had to do was reach it.

His fangs retreating was the one thing that snapped him out of his trance. He furrowed his brows in confusion, unsure of what that fleeting thought was despite how tempting it was to touch it. He should ask Jay before giving into it.

Jungwon let out shallow breaths as he stood up, not sparing another glance at the living room when he turned around. He left the apartment and closed the door, locking it behind him. But, instead of leaving his home, he sat down on the doormat and decided to stay the night there.

#enhypen x y/n #enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung x yn #heeseung x you #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader

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syluss-karaoke-teacher · 2 days ago

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Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part III, Rafayel

Third part is up!! Rafayel and Sylus are my main boos, and I absolutely adored Intertidal Zone and the sensuality of it. This (and Sylus' upcoming one) were written wholly after the cards had dropped, so it's more faithful to the card's plot, but still with my own interpretation and imagination sprinkled in hehe.

Word count: 2248 words

MDNI! Tags and main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, what do you mean I'm starting to repeat myself with these tags?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

~*~*~

The bathroom is quiet, and the water in the tub is warm. After the blazing desert sun you thought you would never want to feel warm again, but the sudden snowfall, along with having to leave Rafayel to his own devices, reversed those thoughts. You sigh and lean your head back against the edge of the bathtub. You are not quite sure how long you have been here. After you woke up in the hotel parking lot the rest of the evening has been a blur. Your thoughts have been occupied by Rafayel so completely that at times you could have sworn you heard his voice in the empty room. The look he gave you before you left… You are sure you could spend an eternity gazing into the beautiful nebulae of his eyes and still not unveil all the mysteries hidden there. Today you would have wanted nothing more than to envelope him in your love so completely that you could have erased whatever sorrow held him captive. Alas…

You shift in place and the water splashes higher on your chest. The goosebumps it causes makes you realize how lukewarm the water has turned. You see that the falling snow has piled up on the windowsill, and decide it’s finally time to leave. But to do what?

You dry yourself with a towel and wrap it around yourself as you step into the bedroom. As you circle the room aimlessly you spot your black cocktail dress from the first night of your trip. It’s laying on the backrest of an armchair, carelessly tossed there after, well… You had tried to make Rafayel feel better on your first night here. You blush a little as you inspect the garment. It’s the only fancier dress you have with you for the trip, and you could have worn it to the art salon as well if not for Rafayel’s insistence to go alone. Seeing that he is yet to come back, your options are either to wrap yourself into a bathrobe, order room service and watch a movie all by your lonesome or use the opportunity to dress nicely for your own sake and eat dinner at the wonderful hotel restaurant. You turn the dress around for a moment longer before making up your mind.

Your push-up bra hangs discarded on the armchair along with the dress, and you slowly ease it and the dress over your still damp skin. Afterwards you go looking for a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, only to realize that your suitcase isn’t in the walk-in closet where you left it. You frown at the row of men’s shirts hung up in there and idly wonder how Rafayel has packed so much again that he feels the need to spread his outfits into your room too. It wouldn’t surprise you to find his paintbrushes in your makeup box next.

The suitcase isn’t in the bedroom either and at this point your tired brain starts to catch up. You go into the bathroom and stare at the vanity table. Cologne, a silver razor with shaving cream, hair mousse…

“Oh.” No wonder you only found this one dress and bra in the room.

Suddenly there are noises coming from the front door, and you walk towards them without a second thought. As you are almost out of the bedroom you come face to face with Rafayel.

His eyes are upon your face instantly. Before you have a chance to react, he grabs you by your wrist and waist and swirls you around to lean against the wall. He buries his face into your neck, sighing deeply and laying kisses onto your heated skin.

“Rafayel… what are you doing here?” you managed to ask as your mind threatens to go hazy again. You don’t seem to be faring that much better than Rafayel was earlier.

Rafayel pulls back for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, yet the heat in his gaze is enough to make your stomach flip. He pushes his thigh between your legs, and instinctively you grind against it. The action reminds you of your missing underwear and causes a shiver to run along your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and a small sigh escapes your lips.

That seems to flick a switch in Rafayel, who surges forward with a groan and captures your lips in a searing kiss. It’s demanding yet gentle; it forces every thought, every last shred of your attention onto him. Rafayel circles his arm more tightly around your waist, pulling you fully against his thigh. With his other hand he cradles the back of your head as he licks your lips to ask for entrance.

You were never good at poetry, but for Rafayel you will have to learn some day: there are no ordinary words to describe what he does to you. Only a few moments of kissing and you are left feeling like a teenager again, thighs trembling with need and lungs begging for oxygen as your lover pulls back to admire his work.

“Wh…what are you doing here Rafayel?” you try again, and when Rafayel still won’t answer, you playfully bite his lower lip as he leans in for another kiss. Rafayel groans at the feeling and pushes his hips flush against you. He is rock hard, and it makes you feel a little bit better about your sorry state.

“This is my room. You came in here, not the other way around,” he finally murmurs. He runs a slender finger over his bruised lip before laying his hand on your chest. Slowly he lets his fingers slide down the black fabric of your dress as his eyes are fixed upon yours. Your breath hitches as he reaches the hem of the short skirt and grabs it, then pushes it upwards until your naked pussy is exposed.

“What I meant was… Shouldn’t you be at the even—tahhhh—” your question ends in a moan as Rafayel’s fingertips brush against your slick entrance. He rubs against you with such faint touches that it drives you mad.

“Did you plan on leaving the room like this?” he asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice, and pointedly ignores your own question. You feel yourself clenching over nothing and end up grinding down on Rafayel’s hand. He lets out a playful tsk and releases your cunt before reaching for the zipper of your dress. Once unzipped it takes only a few tugs to undress you and leave you clad in just the push-up bra.

With a pleased hum Rafayel leans down to kiss your breasts as he returns his hand to your core. He cups your sex and slides his index and middle finger inside you. He starts to slowly pump into you as he nuzzles your cleavage that’s rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts.

After leaving a mark of blossoming red onto your left breast Rafayel lifts his head with a lazy smirk. He brings his other hand to your face and presses his thumb in, sliding it back and forth a bit for you to get the gist. Your eyes widen and you whine pitifully before starting to bob the digit in your mouth, wetting it at the same speed he is doing to your cunt.

Rafayel’s eyes are almost black now with how wide his pupils have blown up. His mouth hangs ajar as he uses both of his hands to fill you. The fingers inside you curl against your g-spot and you moan around his thumb. You bring your own hand to circle your clit as you brace yourself for your impending orgasm. Rafayel grasps your chin, forces you to look only at him. You feel yourself racing closer—

Ding-ding!

The intercom on the wall near you suddenly bursts into life. You squeeze your eyes shut, and hear Rafayel cursing softly.

You have a call waiting!

It’s a small wonder Rafayel doesn’t use his Evol to blow up the offending device. The call signal rings again, and you slip Rafayel’s thumb out of your mouth.

“You should answer. It could be important.”

Rafayel turns back to you, and you look at him with the most innocent expression you can muster. You lick your lips and clench around his fingers. Your slick has dripped down to his wrist by now, and you are still infuriatingly close to your orgasm. The blazing annoyance in Rafayel’s eyes is nothing but a turn-on at this point.

Rafayel grits his teeth and pushes the ‘accept call’ button harshly. The intercom crackles to life, and an unknown male voice starts to talk. Rafayel’s hand slips out of you, and it makes you panic for a full two seconds.

“I am busy,” Rafayel barks at the intercom before grabbing your hips with his hands and hoisting you up into his arms. He crosses the short distance to the bed and sits you down onto it, crawling between your legs as the man on the call still asks him questions. You manage to hear the words ‘salon’ and ‘early’, before Rafayel rolls his eyes and dives his head down. You can only hope his friend doesn’t hear the sound you make as Rafayel goes down on you.

Strong hands hold your hips down as Rafayel brings you back to the precipice. His tongue is hot and heavy against your folds and he moans around you like a man starving. You grab his purple hair a bit too forcefully, but that only makes him more determined to please you. It isn’t long before you are bucking your hips futilely in his grasp.

“Raf, I’m so close, I’m—” you try to warn him, but Rafayel merely hums and pushes his tongue into you. Then you are tumbling over the edge, cumming straight into his awaiting mouth.

You chant Rafayel’s name like a prayer as he eases you through the aftershocks. His hands massage your hips, and he kisses the shivering skin of your inner thighs.

As you come to your senses you look at his beautiful visage between your thighs. He stands up slowly from the bed while pressing light kisses up your leg. With a final kiss on your toes he lays your heel on his shoulder and brings his hands to his belt buckle. You lick your lips as he slowly undoes his belt: something about the sure movements of his hands mesmerizes you. Rafayel toes off his shoes and pushes his pants and underwear down. As he does his cock spring free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip of it is flushed angry red and slick with precum. Rafayel hisses and brings his hand down to stroke himself. Despite having just come you feel your arousal simmering to life again as you watch Rafayel pleasure himself. You arch your back to unhook your bra, which has grown uncomfortable, and then move your free leg behind Rafayel’s backside to gently coax him forward.

“Please Raf, my love,” you whisper hoarsely, and hear his breath hitch in response, “I need you.”

You see Rafayel’s chest glow red above his heart. He crawls onto the bed, kneels between your still spread legs and lifts your hips up and over to his lap. He nestles his aching cock between your folds, rubbing up and down as he leans over you.

“That’s my line,” he murmurs and captures your lips into a soft kiss. It’s almost enough to distract you from the sharp intrusion as he suddenly pushes in and buries himself almost to the hilt into your pulsating heat. You moan into the kiss and claw his back as he rocks back and forth. The air between you is hot and heavy. You feel like choking on nothing, and Rafayel steals what little oxygen there is with his kisses. You can do nothing but hold onto him as he sets the pace.

You are a sweaty mess: your hair sticking to your forehead, and you are sure that your face is as red as Rafayel’s dress shirt. Yet, when he pulls back enough to lay his forehead against yours and gaze into your eyes, pure beauty is reflected in them. You can’t turn away, not even with the risk of drowning.

Rafayel turns louder the closer he is. His gasps, groans and whimpers tumble out of his mouth as he quickens his thrusts. He changes his angle ever so slightly until your voice matches his, and when he feels you tightening around his cock, he releases your hip to help you along with his fingers.

“Sing for me, cutie,” he pleads. And when have you been able to deny him anything? You come apart around him, your whines high-pitched and your back arched off the mattress. Splendid colors flash behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm coaxes Rafayel over the edge with you. As he stills inside you so do his moans, and in that silence you swear you can feel him coming straight into your womb with how deep he holds you in place.

You lay like that for a while, Rafayel still inside you, running his hand through your hair as he searches your eyes for an answer to a question you didn’t know needed an answer. He kisses the palm of your hand and the tips of your fingers, and you smile up at him.

“As long as you need. As much as you want.”

So he does.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #yuli writes #smut #rafayel smut #fanfiction #lnds fanfiction #lnds fanfic #lnds smut

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gotwcird · 2 days ago

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there's something there to nico's smile, growing wide and even brighter when she complies, that makes it so easy for her to follow his orders. how her obedience, her eagerness, can pull something so dazzling to his face, something that should belong on his features yet he rarely shares. nothing compares to it. it's almost as comforting as his words when star fingers herself, determined and gone, all the same, coming undone and yet not close to done. at least according to him. because he's licking praises into her waiting mouth, and she chases after his lips belatedly, half gone already. whimpers because she can feel him hard against her thigh. "nico, nico-" his name falls past her lips like a song, like a tether to something solid. the sound of his name turns into a moan that starts deep in her chest — because byeol feels nico's fingers push two of her digits away to replace them for his. 'i didn't stay stop yet.' and suddenly the waning stimulation kickstarts with a sputter, her thighs shaking.

"i- i can't-" she cries, feels the ache in her arm, present yet blurry compared to the overstimulated pleasure of their fingers together. inside her together. two of hers, two of his, stretching her wider than before, filling her up impossibly. something finally more akin to his cock. "nico, please-" it's too much. too much, and yet she doesn't stop. doesn't want to. her free hand grasps at his arm, nails digging into the firm muscle of him, uses the motion of the frantic thrusts of her hips to help her along, even if they pull away every few seconds. "stop- stop. i can't." but she doesn't push away. doesn't stop her own ministrations. keeps going despite herself. despite her broken words and crackling voice, despite the tears returning, blurring the beautiful picture of her boyfriend above her. star doesn't stop. because he hasn't told her to yet. she can barely move her hand anymore, but it doesn't matter. his fingers, the motion of them, help push them in with his, helping her press into that tender, swollen part of her. in comparison, nico's fingers reach further in, presses deeper into her. byeol can hear herself, the vulgar wet sounds of her own pussy, the loud, unending string of moans. she's being pushed to the brink, and yet still asking, weeping for more. waiting patiently for his cock.

her head's gone. somewhere far beyond the sheets she's on, somewhere only her and nico exist. distantly, the word comes to mind. vermouth. an inkling of it that gnaws at her; coming from the aching of her arm, the overstimulation at her core. she's feeling so much. too much. so much pleasure that it errs on painful, biting into the edges of it that it rings high and dry in her ears. but it's nothing in comparison to the profuse delight she feels being good for him. listening to every command, doing whatever he says. "sir- sir, it's too much." the title comes out naturally, revealing itself finally. it's something buried deep, that raw bit in her chest helping unearth it into the daze of her head, pushing the title out — bleeding a new, almost reverence into how she defers to him and his every word. ( a filthy indication to how much she looks to him, how much she trusts him. ) "nico, sir-"

star's orgasm comes without warning this time. fast, dirty, frazzled, feral. a broken sound rips out of her throat, accompanied by a hot spray of her cum, pooling crudely between their two hands. her own hand goes limp between them, letting him help her ride out this pleasure, unable to do much else anymore while it hits her. it's an obscene sight, probably. her squirting all over them both, cum gushing out to soak the sheets under them, to the insides of her thighs, onto nico and his underwear too. her eyes are half rolled back, half closed, body shaking beneath him, fingernails scratching at the hard planes of his stomach . . . and yet, after all that, after the pushing and pulling and coming apart, star would still take more of nico. wants more- no, needs more, in fact. aches for his cock, even if she can barely fight through the blur. doesn't feel complete without it, like he's built a dependence in her on it.

( he's ruined her, and she revels in the wreckage. )

he hears the stutter in her tone , isn't surprised by the way she goes red and seems almost like she wants to refuse . his eyes watch her carefully , scanning her features , her bright eyes , flushed cheeks , dainty nose and hair that's slightly mussed up but not nearly enough ( not yet ) . her fingers pause in their movements and nico gently brushes his nose against her , silently telling her to keep going . HE DIDN'T TELL HER TO STOP . he likes watching her do this for him . he wants to learn every single way she does it . he doesn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing her messy , filled with his cum and coming undone . NEVER . finally , when she says the words , it's with an bashfull-ness that makes nico's smile turn slightly bigger , even brighter . " good job , baby . " he murmurs the words out , as dear and solid and real as ever . there's something within him that pulsates at the unsureness within star . everytime she looks at him , flustered , eyelashes fanned out , mouth ajar . . . it makes him feel like he might go crazy . it makes him want to cover her mouth with his and lift her off her feet . she's seen so much yet not that much at all . when it comes to sex , he likes seeing what she knows , what she doesn't . how eagerly she'll try anything . how she'll have her own ideas and thoughts . NICO WANTS EVERY PART OF HER SO BADLY , he isn't sure where she begins and he ends anymore . he's always liked sex , but he's never felt this insatiable and desperate and hungry before . " you're incredible . " he repeats , before leaning back again . his hand falls from her knee to apply some pressure on his hardening cock . he can feel himself stirring up for her again , half-mast and wanting more . she always makes him get like this . he feels like he's in his 20s all over again , with impossibly high stamina and a determination to keep going .

when nico looks at her dainty fingers disappearing inside of her , squelching and wet , he wonders how the hell she manages him . his fingers are at least double the size of hers . he doesn't want to brag , but his cock is definitely bigger . and she takes it all . yet here she is , fingers and knuckles inside of herself and she's whimpering as if she's never taken more . THIS INNOCENCE . the unwavering trust . he drinks it down . " you use only two ? " he repeats , other hand on her thigh , thumb gently rubbing circles on her , every temptation within him trying not to knock her fingers away so he can go to work on her . " but you'd let me . . . " his mind shutters off , goes blissfully blank . four . or all of them . nico's breath exhales within him in a giant whoosh , uncontrolled , filling the room outside of his whimpers and ministrations . when he reopens his eyes , he knows his gaze is hungry , devouring her spread open wide for him , legs kicked out , cum dripping out of her , looking so filthy and beautiful all at once . " — so you've never tried three fingers on yourself before ? " it seems INCORRECT , but he loves that star saved this for him . let him get her this way . let HIM do things to her that she wouldn't even do to herself . and she does . . . she sinks in another finger , squirming , whimpering , but the fourth finger slides in and nico's teeth wear into his bottom lip , watching carefully as she does . the four fingers look snug . her opening looks filled , and he can't understand it . can't understand HER , although he wants to . " you're close , huh ? i can tell . i can see it . " he whispers it out , soothing and encouraged , wanting nothing more then for his own fingers to take place , to fill the gap she's left , to touch what's left untouched . he presses a few more kisses on her knees , using his head to keep her legs apart , as her hips jut up . " you're so good at following instructions , baby . " nico's voice is warm , impressed . his hand glides closer . closer . the temptation is too much . his eyes lift to hers , just as his thumb glides over her clit . not enough to add any pressure , but to provide the sensation , the fuzz , the VIBRATION and static of his thumb touching her . he moves it quickly , trying to keep himself as restrained as he can because this is her time and he's trying so hard to not be greedy with it .

his cock aches now , fully hard and expectant . hungry to fill her again , cum inside her again . he feels himself tremble as she rolls her eyes back , his thumb resuming encouraging circles on the inside of her thigh , pretending it's where he really wants his fingers to be . his other hand tightens on her knee , and he reminds himself to loosen up , not scar or bruise her with his grip . " star . . . " words leave him , breathless , as he watches the orgasm take over her entirely . her body pulsates . she seems to almost not be herself at all as she fucks herself onto her fingers , twisting , groaning , messy , voice strained as she shakes , back arching off the bed . HOLY FUCK . his eyes are wide , drinking her in , hands twitching to touch her , but instead continuing to graze her legs , gently hold her through the orgasm as it pulsates through her . her words are nonsensical . he doesn't care . as her body shakes with the aftershocks of it , nico climbs up the bed immediately and finds her mouth . he seals it over with his own , breathing hot and heavy , cock brushing up against her as he does . " you looked so fucking good . " he licks it into her mouth , his hand finally going between her legs and gently knocks two of her fingers out . they feel slippery and hot , trembling , but nico can't think straight . instead, he plunges two of his own fingers deep inside of her , right alongside her other two fingers . " i didn't stay stop yet . " he whispers, guttural and strained . his hips press against her body , cock taut and harder than before , desperate for friction . " help me get you to the second one , baby . "

#star / nico #star / threads #*tips my hat* allow me to make it nastier...#DFKJDSFKGJFKSD

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faunabel · 9 months ago

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hmm i think i wanna add onto the america headcanons i wrote for my imagines blog soon

i just wanna make sure he's actually in character but also he deserves more time in the sun! not that my post for him was short but i can do better.

i'm writing similar headcanons for all the characters too just to get a feel for their personalities as a whole <3

#( 💭 faun thinks )#btw if u have requests... *points to my blog* they r open #i do them in whatever order i feel like be warned

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taegularities · 4 months ago

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meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them.

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core.

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR.

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey. Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet.

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.”

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…”

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

��…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.”

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought.

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity.

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his.

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

READ BELOW!!

the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

#jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook

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huh-i-guess · 4 months ago

Text

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab.

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret.

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling.

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended.

“Listen I-”

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.”

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order.

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab.

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind. I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can.

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”.

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared.

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time.

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know.

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state.

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings.

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then.

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped.

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground.

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house.

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned.

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said.

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected.

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes.

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth.

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said.

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you.

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear. Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit.

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed. When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment.

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles. You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more.

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team.

“Did you lad?” Price probed.

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth.

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly.

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has.

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied.

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality.

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.

“Jesus, Simon.”

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs.

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face.

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.”

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants. Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit.

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely.

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal.

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers.

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing.

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john price #john price x reader #my work #ghost smut #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod smut

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selfcarecap · 4 months ago

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Insatiable [L.H.]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x female!reader

Summary: Down in the void, where you can find all sorts of dangerous things, you didn’t expect a flower that makes you horny to be your biggest problem. Luckily, Logan is there to fuck that overwhelming feeling out of you.

Warnings: smut 18+, unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), spitting and hair pulling (reader pulls Logan’s hair) but just for a split second </3, dub con because of sex pollen but they want each other either way, Logan calls reader baby and good girl during sex, mention of masturbation (f), Wade watches them fuck technically without consent but it’s not mentioned until the end and it’s more of a joke, set during Deadpool & Wolverine but no major spoilers I just used a different gif because Logan is annoyed at Wade in every single one from that film lmao, Wade being Wade, Logan is taller than the reader, age gap implied (well actually it’s not implied but I’m telling you Logan’s older lmao), all porn no plot

Word Count: 3.4k

first Logan fic 🤭 pls be nice <333

˚✮*✧*˚☆˚*✧

It shouldn’t shock you that the void is full of weird things — you came here with a mutant and a … well, whatever the fuck Wade is, after all. Yet, you’re still surprised when, on your way back from finding some bushes to pee in, you end up tripping over something and getting addicted to the smell of some glowing plant.

The flower is bright pink and smells like your favourite perfume. You’re on all fours at this point, your face buried in the bud as you inhale its sweet, sweet scent.

“What is she doing?” Logan asks from afar, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Yoga?” Wade offers. Logan throws him a look — not helpful.

Logan makes his way to you; the closer he gets the brighter the plant glows. This can’t be good. He calls your name when he gets to you but you’re in a trance, you don’t even seem to hear Logan. You’re humming — no, moaning?— to yourself, arching your back and lowering yourself to your forearms.

He pulls you up by your arm and almost flinches at your sudden outburst. “Let me go!” You shout, hitting his chest, and when you look up at him your pupils are so large Logan isn’t sure it’s really still you in there.

You go to slap Logan so you can get back down but his hand slides down your arm to hold your wrist, his other hand at your waist to keep you in place.

“Look at me,” Logan orders and, oh you’re looking at him.

The smell the plant was giving off wasn’t your favourite perfume at all, you realise, it was the smell of Logan. A hint of his aftershave, a little bit of sweat, and all that manly musk. You realise you need him right now.

You involuntarily arch your back to get closer to him, your chest against the hard of his suit. He’s looking down at you, a mixture of worry and confusion. You reach up to claw at Logan’s collar but he easily holds you off.

“You okay, bub? What was that?” He looks down to kick at the plant and as it breaks off at the stem the plant gives off a last shake of glittery dust, grows grey, and then dies. You slowly turn your head from the floor to Logan’s face — he’s wearily awaiting your next move.

“I’m not okay, Logan. I need you right now,” you pull at his collar once more but he has you in a tight grip at the waist — which does nothing but turn you on more.

“Wade! Come here,” Logan calls, and you see a flicker of red in your periphery coming towards you, but you don’t take your eyes off the man in front of you.

When you stand still for a few seconds, that’s when the ache really hits you. You clench around nothing and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are. You’ve never needed to come so badly in your life, but Logan’s got you held firmly in place, no matter how much you squirm.

Wade sees the plant immediately, even greyed out and dead, “What’s this?” He walks towards it.

Logan grabs Wade’s arm. “Don’t,” he grits.

With only one of his arms on you, you take the chance to reach up at Logan’s face, try to kiss him, but his hand is back on you before you can even get on your tiptoes. You let out a pained moan and both their heads snap towards you.

“She was smelling that flower. Now she’s..” Logan looks down at you, which intensifies your need, but he’s careful of what to say. You only met a few days ago and he doesn’t want to humiliate you, doesn’t know how deep down the real you is by now.

“Horny?” Wade asks, looking at you, “Holy shit, girl, look at your eyes. See, a woman after my own heart. That’s exactly how I look at Logan too—“

“Wade!” Logan shouts, jaw clenching, “We need to get her somewhere safe.”

“Don’t need anywhere safe. Need you,” you mumble, attempting to free yourself from Logan’s grip. He’s so effortlessly strong it makes your mouth water and the place between your thighs even wetter.

Wade bends down, careful not to get too close to the plant, assessing it. “Easy. It’s sex pollen.”

“What the fuck is that?” Logan half-shouts.

“Have you never read fanfiction? It makes you crazy horny until you’re fucked by the person you’re into the most,” Wade explains, then sighs, looking at you, “Sad that it’s not me, sugarcakes, I’ll be honest.”

You ignore him, still attempting to get out of Logan’s grasp to climb him like a tree.

Logan groans at Wade, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“No, have you met me?”

Suddenly you’re lifted off the ground and Logan slings you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing at all. His arm grips you just below your ass, and it makes you clench your thighs together, trying to get any type of friction. You attempt to get down but his arm only tightens around your legs and even though your entire upper body is free, hanging off the back of him, you’re helpless.

You squirm and wriggle and moan but all to no avail. Logan’s ignoring you. You feel your underwear getting wetter with his every step and breath and movement, and you’re sure he must be able to smell you at this point.

Your arousal has turned into nothing other than a pulsing pain and you feel tears springing to your eyes with your sexual frustration. You mumble Logan’s name but you’re too weak to really say anything, too weak to even try and get out of his grasp anymore.

A shadow is cast over you and you see the sand under you turn into a solid floor. Suddenly you’re being lifted back up and Logan sits you on top of a table. You’re in a… diner? You don’t really care, filled with a new energy as you see Logan towering over you, concern written on his face – concern you’re ready to turn into lust.

You sit up with force, ready to pounce on him, but he pins you back to the tabletop immediately, his big arms holding your wrists down.

“Don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” – the nickname makes you moan right in his face, hips trying to arch up but he’s too far – “We’re gonna need you to calm down, okay? And we’re gonna wait it out.”

“No,” you begin to shake your head quickly, giving Logan your best puppy eyes, “I can’t wait. Need to cum. I’m so wet, Logan. Please.”

“As much as I wish it wasn’t, that’s my cue to leave,” Wade waves, whispering, “I hope you think of me when you come” (you’re not sure if he’s saying it to you or to Logan) and walks out the door.

Logan is distracted for a second, watching Wade leave, and you yank your hand out of his grasp to unzip the front of your suit and push a hand into your underwear. You cry out when you finally get to touch your clit, puffy and wet all over, and for a second Logan can’t keep his eyes off your panties. His gaze lands on your tits almost spilling out of your bra from all the movement and then he takes hold of your wrist once again.

“I’m gonna leave and then you can touch yourself all you want, hm? That sound like a plan?” Logan says, voice quiet and hoarse and all you can do is shake your head at him.

“‘S not gonna be enough. Need you. Please,” you moan again, and you see him clench his jaw in restraint.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Don’t know if you’d want this otherwise. Wouldn’t be right of me.”

You somehow manage to yank his hand down with yours and shove it into your panties.

“Does this feel like I don’t want you, Logan? You’re all I want. Been making myself come every day since I met you wishing it was you instead.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, baby, don’t know what you’re asking for,” Logan’s voice is strained. His thumb starts rubbing your clit instinctively, as if he can’t control himself. He moves slightly to get a better angle and you see the bulge pressing against his pants. He’s so big you moan out his name loud enough to echo through the building.

“Know exactly what I’m asking for. Please, Logan. It’s not gonna stop until you make me come. I’m begging you.” He looks at you with uncertainty. Then he’s pulling your arms out of your suit and ripping the rest down your legs.

“I’m gonna make you come, okay? I’ll eat your pussy as many times as you need me to. That alright?” He kneels in front of you and pulls you to the edge of the table.

You want to ask him to fuck you but all you can manage to say right now is to let out a whiny “Mhmmm.”

Logan wastes no time taking one of your thighs over his shoulder and pulling your soaked panties to the side. He looks ready to surrender and give you what you really need but he stays firmly in his place.

“Look what a mess you’ve made, baby. Such a pretty fucking pussy. I’ll make you feel better, okay? ‘M gonna make you come.”

Without another word his tongue is on you, licking broadly over your clit and then sucking as much as he can into his mouth. You arch your back and press your hips into his face. His hands come to the top of your thighs to hold you down, palms hot against your skin.

“Feel good?” He mumbles against your pussy and you sit up on your elbows.

“So fucking good, Logan. Don’t stop. Please,” you whimper as you look at his face buried in your pussy. He licks into you, nose pressed against your clit and you can’t help but buck your hips.

“Look how sweet you are, saying please every time. Such a good girl.” He’s inhaling you hungrily now, sloppy in his movements from how turned on he is but it’s not stopping you from feeling good.

You just need friction. And he’s giving you that, but then he’s licking all the way up from your pussy over your clit, through your pubic hair and up to your belly button — just to tease you. He smirks up at you and you push his head back down; he happily obliges, but not before reaching out one of his big strong hands to settle on your breast, thumb hooking under the top of your bra to play with your nipple.

“Taste so fucking good, baby. Can’t get enough,” he breathes as he begins to suck on your clit and starts moaning himself.

It occurs to you then that the pollen in your arousal or in your sweat might be making him lose his mind too. With the way he’s almost painfully squeezing your thigh with one hand and your boob with the other, you’re sure.

Logan groans with a mouthful of you between his lips, your sensitive clit swollen against his tongue. He moans something into you that you can’t understand, but the vibration of his voice pushes you close to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you whimper loudly, your hips chasing his face.

You finally tip over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before.

But it’s over as fast as it started.

You push your hand between your legs to relieve the ache again but you know it won’t be enough. Logan stands up and wipes his mouth, glistening with your arousal. “Y’need me again?”

You shake your head as you squirm without his presence between your thighs. “Please fuck me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore, need you inside me.” As you say it you clench around nothing, the pulsing between your legs insatiable. You start fucking yourself with your fingers, but it’s not nearly enough – you need something bigger, much bigger, and you have a feeling he can provide that.

The pollen seems to take over for Logan as well, and he finally stops arguing. He pulls off his suit and you silently curse him for not doing that earlier. Seeing those muscles is providing more relief than your fingers inside you. You feel like you could come just from the sight of his big, hard cock alone. It’s exactly what you need.

You slip out of your bra that’s almost sticking to your skin with how hot you feel and Logan roughly rips your panties down your legs.

“You really want this?” He asks as he steps between your thighs, jerking off and rubbing the tip against your clit.

“Mmhm yesyes, need you so badly. Please Lo–” you both gasp when he fills your pussy at once. It’s a feeling that brings you close to orgasm immediately and makes you grab him to pull him closer. Logan momentarily slips out of you again to crawl onto the table, pull you across it and wrap your legs around his hips.

“So fucking hard for you,” he mumbles as he pushes back into your slick pussy. You’re both mesmerised by the sight of him starting to fuck into you, your pussy stretching around him with what is the best feeling you’ve ever had. It burns because he’s so big, but it’s a good type of pain.

You grab the hair at the back of his head for support, and he moans at your grip. It angles his face towards yours and you look into each other’s eyes for a split second before his mouth finds yours. You’re biting and licking at his lips and he growls back against you, holding your lower lip down to spit into your mouth, his animalistic nature taking over.

His hips rut against yours faster as your kiss gets more desperate. You lean your head back in pleasure, hitting the table, but you barely register the pain. Distracted by how good his big cock feels so deep in your pussy you don’t even notice his hand coming up under your head to cushion it.

“There you go,” he whispers, looking down at you. Your eyes meet and for a second you smile at his care. You tip your head right back down into his hand when he starts kissing down your neck, his free hand pushing up one of your tits to wrap his lips around the nipple.

The way he runs his tongue over your nipple has you moaning and grabbing onto his hair once more. You need to feel the heat of his body so you wrap your arm around the back of his shoulders until he’s desperately fucking into you with your chests pressed together.

It should be too warm with the way your bodies are intertwined but Logan looks down to lick the sweat on your neck right up and sucks on the skin there right after. The added stimulation makes your hips buck up and Logan sneaks a hand back to your clit, messily rubbing until he has you coming again and you’re both moaning at how hard your pussy clenches around him.

You think for a second that Logan’s going to come with you but he manages to resist the temptation, biting into your shoulder instead. But that second in which it almost felt like he was coming was the calmest you’ve felt in hours at this point. You realise that maybe it’s him who needs to come for you to feel better. But you’re too horny to say any proper words to explain it to him.

Logan pushes himself up to look at your face but he doesn’t have to ask if you still need more. Your pupils are as wide as before.

“Pussy’s still so hungry for me, baby, hm? So fucking desperate,” he repositions your hips and starts fucking into you at a different angle, your wet pussy so loud against him. This time you feel his dick pushing against your g-spot and he has you gasping at the new sensation, pulling you by the hips to aid his thrusts.

“P-Please come inside me, Log– uh-Logan,” you manage to say.

Logan looks down at you and places a hand under your ass, squeezing you there, “Baby, I got stamina for the entire night. Not stopping til you’re satisfied.”

“Just do it, need you”, is all you can get out as he continues to rut his hips against yours.

“Alright. I got you, baby, I got you,” he rasps, making sure to hit your g-spot over and over until you’re arching your back, biting into his bicep that’s propped next to your face, to deal with the amount of pleasure coursing through you.

A gasp turns into an orgasm and as soon as you clench around Logan he lets go too. “God, baby, so fucking tight for me. Such a good girl. Gonna come–”

You hold onto Logan tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck as he fucks into you, filling you with ropes and ropes of his cum as you keep clenching around his big cock. You can feel him so deeply in you that your most primal urges are finally starting to calm down and you feel the last waves of pleasure flow through you as he comes his final drops.

Logan drops onto his elbows that are positioned next to your head, and, instinctively, you take his face to kiss him. He kisses you back so intensely that you don’t even have to consider whether he still wanted to kiss you now that the sex is over.

“You okay?” He asks when you let go of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod, noticing that the ache is finally, finally gone now that you’ve both come together, “thank you, Logan.”

“My pleasure,” he smirks and places a more innocent kiss on your mouth. You untangle yourselves from each other in slow movements, unsure what places you’re sweating from and need to clean up.

“Do you regret it?” Logan asks you a few minutes later, cleaned up and clothed, with his arm around your waist to support you – you can barely stand – as you go outside to look for Wade.

“No. But thanks for making sure so many times… Do you regret it?”

Logan’s smile tells you everything you need to know but he still tells you, “Not one bit.”

You smile but then become more serious. “Sorry that you had to experience that,” you mumble.

“What do you mean? You’re apologising for that?”

“Didn’t you feel the pain too? I thought the effect of the pollen might have somehow been contagious.”

He almost looks bashful when he looks down at you, “No, you just turn me on like fucking crazy.”

You smile down at the floor until you see a shadow. Wade comes around the corner of the diner.

You draw your eyebrows together. “You’re telling me you actually left?”

“There’s no way you didn’t stay to watch us,” Logan adds.

“No, of course I stayed but I came ages ago. I was forced to be with my own thoughts while you kept going… and going.”

Logan rolls his eyes as Wade walks on, “What do you think, we–”

“And going…”

“Wade.” Logan warns, turning to you again, “How about we get this shit done with Wade and then go to your place and do this all over again?”

You giggle, “I like the sound of that.”

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog and comment if you enjoyed, I appreciate it a lot <333.｡.:*☆

#Logan Howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #Logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #Logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine fic #sex pollen #logan howlett sex pollen #wolverine sex pollen #going to watch the film again as i post this 🤭hope tumblr works lol #fem!reader #selfcarecap

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veltana · 9 months ago

Text

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #possessive!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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enderlovez · 29 days ago

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It's Romantic

Spencer Reid x Female Reader WORD COUNT: 980

Summary: When Spencer learns that his girlfriend is also an avid reader after visiting her apartment for the first time, something she's kept from him for reasons unclear, he is ecstatic. And a little concerned, when he reads one of your 'romance' books.

Content Warning: reader gets embarrassed, your book has a sex scene in it, reader bites Spencer once, possibly shy!reader?

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer has never once been to your apartment. You're spend most of your time at his place, occasionally spending the night with him when you feel like it, and he loves having you there with him... But quite frankly, he's curious to see the place you spent most of your nights.

How you've decorated, how you've make it comfortable for you. Yet every time it comes up, the topic of, at some point, going over to your apartment, you change the subject, or insist on going to his.

'Why would we go to my dirty old apartment when we can just go to yours?' you'd asked on multiple occasions.

He doesn't understand what could be so terrible about the place you live, so disgusting that you wouldn't want him to see it?

Well, tonight, he wants to find out.

"Why don't we go to your apartment?" he asks quietly, swinging your linked hand between the both of you as you walk down the street.

You side-eye him, opening your mouth to give him the usual spiel, but he beats you to it, pulling you to a stop and pressing a finger to your mouth.

"Come on, Y/N, we've been dating for almost a year and I still haven't seen where you live!" he states matter-of-factly.

"Why do you need to see my apartment?" you ask, a defensive tone lingering in your words, your voice rising a few octaves. He doesn't need to be a profiler to realize you're nervous.

He sighs lovingly and wraps and arm around your shoulder, guiding you down the sidewalk once again. "Because I love you, and I'm curious to know where you disappear to when you leave me every night."

"I don't leave you every night, though."

"Okay, almost every night, then," he corrects himself. "Whatever you're worried about, trust me when I say there's no reasons to be."

You know he would never judge you for anything, right? Especially not when you're so wound up about this whole thing.

He peeks down at you again, using his free thumb to gently pull your bottom lip from between your teeth.

"Look, if you're really set on me never seeing your apartment, that's fine, I'll never see it," he breathes, not wanting to cause you actual stress about it. "I didn't mean to upset you, just wanted to know more about you."

"No," you snap back immediately, hesitation swimming around your eyes as you reach up and take his hand in yours again, "you didn't upset me at all, Spence. You... you can come see my apartment."

"Sweetheart, if you don't want me to—"

"I do want you to," you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the side of his hand. "I want you to see it. Please, come see my apartment, Spence."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Your apartment is lovely.

Fairy lights and posters decorating the walls, all the furniture worn and cozy, and it smells so distinctly you. It's exactly what he would expect for you, actually, something just as sweet and cozy as you are.

The only thing he didn't expect was the tall wooden bookshelf in your living room, filled with books, none of which he's read. You don't have it organized in any particular order — actually, you don't have them organized at all.

"I didn't know you liked to read," he commented softly, plucking one of your novels from the shelf and flipping it over to read the back. How could he be romantically involved with you for almost a year, and not know something so simple about your day to day life?

You don't say anything, blushing from head to toe as he picks up another one of your books. He looks back at you when he finds the one he gifted you a few months back.

He never actually thought you would read it, simply wanting you to have something in your apartment that reminded you of him, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was worn — more than any of the other books.

Spencer doesn't need to know you started reading it the night he gifted it to you, or that you spent every free second away from him reading it, or that you've already read it two times at this point.

It's obviously not something you would usually read, but it's from Spencer, so it's different. You loved every second of it because of him.

He puts the books he's holding down and grabs another random one from the shelf, settling into your pastel-rainbow-blanket-covered sofa, and flipping open to a random page...

Only to see that the two main characters of this particular book are having sex. Very descriptive sex, he might add, red coloring his face as he gently closes the book again and slowly turns his eyes to you.

Your face is a similar shade of crimson, knowing exactly what he's just opened the book up to find, as you snatch it away from him and put it back onto the shelf.

"Is this why you didn't want me coming here?" he asks, somehow managing to keep his voice steady — for your sake, since you're clearly embarrassed about the situation.

You drop down onto the sofa beside him, pressing your face into the soft bend between his shoulder and his neck, and just barely nod.

"You know I'd never judge you for anything, Lovely," he assures you, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of your head, "but that might just be the most vulgar thing I've ever read."

"It's romantic," you argue without moving your face away from his neck, gently biting down on the skin there as if to reprimand him.

"Alright," he agrees with you, too easily for your liking, but you don't say anything more, "if you say it's romantic, then it has to be."

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x female reader #enderlovez

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fungateshortcakes · 1 month ago

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Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

__________________________________

Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

_______________________________

I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

#logan howlett x reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x reader #logan howlett #logan wolverine #marvel #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #worst wolverine #worst wolverine x reader #mcu #logan howlett fluff #fluff #oneshot

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torpublishinggroup · 10 months ago

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"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune

(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)

1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.

2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.

3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.

4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.

5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.

6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!

Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.

#tor books #booklr #new books #in the lives of puppets #tj klune #tbr #sff #science fiction #team robot #unreality #long post

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loverafey · 2 months ago

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munch ! bf!rafe x f!reader

ꕀ warnings - smut, consensual somno, cunnilingus, just pure filth honestly. wc - 890.

you didn’t usually have wet dreams.

the ones you normally had were, well, too embarrassing to recall. especially when rafe would make you narrate them all out, clearly amused by how you’d be all flustered. though still, the ones you had tended to be mild and fleeting, leaving you giddy.

not like this one that you were having currently.

you saw rafe in your dream, as expected, his hands mapping your body out. you felt hot, so unbearably warm and wet, everything feeling oddly real within the dream, feeling waves of pleasure jolting between your legs, coaxing you awake impishly, feeling something grabbing your hips.

and then you woke up, a soft groggy gasp leaving your lips, sleepy eyes looking around in confusion until they landed on him, his face in between your legs, eyes fixated on your face.

“had a nice dream, huh?” his voice was edging onto cockiness, face lifting up a bit. your heart skipped a bit once you noted the subtle glistening on his lips, how his pupils seemed dilated albeit the dim light within your bedroom, as if he was high from your taste.

“shut up…” you tried to not show the sudden wave of bashfulness overtaking you, your legs instinctively attempting to close in order to hide yourself, your shorts long removed. rafe tutted in disagreement, hands prying your legs open again, pressing soft little kisses on your knees that made your stomach flutter in mere seconds. sometimes you’d scold yourself for being so easily affected by your boyfriend.

“don’t act like you didn’t. you were moaning all prettily for me.” he huffed, hands moving up to grip onto the soft flesh of your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he pressed open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, causing your legs to quiver at the sensation, drawing out a whimper from you. suddenly you were very much aware of how your pussy was soaking, a result of him most probably licking you up all nicely while you were asleep. cheeky bastard.

you didn’t respond, chewing on your bottom lip as he began to suckle on your inner thigh, clearly leaving some marks there. with a gentle swat of his hand against your side, urging you to speak, your hips stuttered, aching to buck forward. “fine, yes… i had a nice dream.” you reluctantly admitted through the light pants leaving your mouth, feeling heat crawl up onto your cheeks. fuck, was your bedroom always so humid?

“hm. ‘course you did.” he mumbled against your skin, lips leaving your inner thigh, blowing some air onto your slicken folds, laughing as he caught the subtle twitch of your muscles. “was so surprised when you told me yesterday that i could do anythin’ i wanted with you while you were sleeping. never knew you were like that.” he snickered.

“rafe!” you whined, your clit feeling all sore, aching to be touched as you felt his fingers spreading your pussy apart, pressing feather-like pecks on your clit, feeling it pulsate. your lips were parted in awe, eyes desperately looking at him. his kisses enough were bringing you closer to the edge, but of course he didn’t let you have that, not so soon.

he ceased his shower of kisses, licking up a fat stripe across your slit with his tongue. you were literally pulsing, earning a groan from his, any concept of restraining himself slipping out of his head as he dived right in.

“shit- tastes so good, baby.” his hands kept your legs open firmly, moaning against your pussy as he latched his mouth onto your throbbing clit, beginning to suckle on it. every nerve on your body felt as if it was on fire, your hips bucking up against his mouth on their own, a mewl leaving you as your hands reached down to hold onto his head, shoulder — whatever you could reach. you just needed to hold onto him.

“f-feels sensitive!” you stuttered out, eyes squeezing shut. with your brain completely melting and your insides feeling all warm, your legs kicked a bit in the air, though quickly pressed down once again with his hands.

he didn’t pull away to scold you, too absorbed in making you feel good, licking and sucking on your clit as his mouth got more messier. just how he loved it. the familiar feeling of something building up begins to take over you, your chest rising and falling.

“rafe, m’so close…!” a needy noise escaped you, your pussy clenching around nothing once you reached your peak and fell apart on his mouth, your body squirming underneath his. you feared you’d accidentally lock your legs around his neck and squeeze too tight, but again, he’d probably have liked that.

“f-fuck…” you panted softly, feeling overly tender everywhere, your eyes a bit glossy from tears. a soft chuckle was heard from beneath as rafe’s face rose up, cheeks flushed and lips formed in a pleased grin. you smiled back, just about to relax until you felt his hands pinning your hips back down against the mattress, earning a squeak from you.

“c’mon, that was just one round.” he feigned offence, pouting playfully as his head went down in between your legs once again, this time his fingers teasing your entrance, getting all soaked.

“gonna make you taste yourself after this.”

#sun.works ★#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #sorry i was ovulating

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0097linersb · 6 months ago

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𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 (m)

Pairings: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 15k ~

Warnings: It´s a smut so +18 MDNI pls

Follow me on twitter: wooyosgfreal <3

Part 2

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

As someone who has been single for the past 2 years, you often found yourself missing certain things and feelings. It´s not even the dating in itself that you craved, you were in fact, very content with being alone, and after all your inner healing and growth, you didn´t even think you were ready for a relationship at this point in your life. But as you and Wooyoung were on your couch lazily spending the afternoon, you found your body and mind screaming for comfort at the sight of the rainy day outside.

Your friend had his head on your lap as he played some online shooting game on his phone, the movie you intended on watching now only serving as background noise as you drifted off, hands absent-mindedly playing with the strands of his hair that fell on top of your thighs.

Hand-holding.

That´s something you really missed. The feeling of interlacing fingers with someone as warmness spread through your body. When you were dating, you weren´t even that into holding hands, uncomfortable with not being able to move freely or with the way your palm seemed to always feel clammy – But now? You would kill for a chance to walk around a park linked with someone.

You also really missed being so familiar with someone that you just felt at ease, having a person there to do nothing or everything with, being able to talk or gossip about anything. You remember spamming Mingyu´s chat with every little thing that happened during your day and him just being genuinely happy to hear about it, replying to every single message in order. As your best friend, Wooyoung was someone you talked to a lot, but you still couldn´t text him about how you already drank 6 glasses of water or how you were annoyed because your stapler kept getting stuck – Those are the annoying little things you only get to share with a significant other that has the obligation to put up with you.

And showering together. You almost felt dramatic tears fill your eyes at the thought of it; sharing the hot stream of water with someone, have them rub soap down your back or massage shampoo onto your scalp, or just simply holding someone in the dark under the running water as steam filled the room.

Oh, and free massages. You definitely missed those, being able to ask for a massage at whatever given moment with the certainness that you would receive one. Mingyu´s love language had always been acts of service, meaning you wouldn´t spend a single day without his hands squeezing your shoulders or rubbing down your back.

Maybe you should call Mingyu. Something along the lines of “hey, I know we broke up a few years ago but can you come like, hold me for a minute? Cuddle until we fall asleep?”

You were so touch deprived you could cry.

There was also the intimate part of a relationship; You had tried casual sex, one-night stands, friends with benefits, even a Tinder hook up once – It just wasn´t for you. It´s not even the sex on itself that you longed for, you could spend another few years without it if it came down to it. But you did miss what came with being intimate with someone who truly cared about you. When it comes to casual flings, people are normally selfish (yourself included), doing the bare minimum to get the other person off but truly aiming for their own pleasure; it was nice being with someone who´s main priority was making you feel good without the need of having the “favor returned”.

What you really did miss though, was a bit cruder: You missed the feeling of someone´s dick in your mouth, the groans and whines that came with it, hands tangled in your hair, your tongue tracing hot veins as someone praised you. You missed having someone´s fingers inside of you, your walls tight around them as they pumped in and out of you with ease. You also really fucking missed someone eating you out.

You subconsciously pulled a bit on Wooyoung´s hair out of frustration but he didn´t seem to notice, eyes fixated on his game. You gently pat his head where you had tugged on the strands and went back to playing with his hair, letting your mind take you away once again.

Again, it´s not like your relationship with Mingyu ended badly, surely, he wouldn´t mind if you called him up to go down memory lane for a night-

You had never noticed how plump Wooyoung´s lips were.

He had a habit of pouting when he was focused, or biting on his lips when he was extra concentrated – which he was doing just now as he tried to shoot at someone who was trying to kill him. When he finally managed to take out the other player and escape, he let his bottom lip go, now all red and glistening as he cursed out loud. They just looked so soft and plushy, and the mole he had on his bottom lip –

You suddenly realized you were kind of obsessed with Wooyoung´s nose shape. You know what people say about big noses… Also, how good would it feel bumping against -

“You´re being way too nice. What´s going on?” Wooyoung´s voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump in shock and realization that you were just thinking about your friend eating you out.

“I am nice, just not to you,” You correct, meeting his eyes which were looking up as you noticed you were still running your fingers through his hair.

“I have very strong opinions about that, but either way, it´s what I meant. Why are you being nice to me?”

“Am I?”

“I remember very clearly the last time I asked you to cuddle me, almost got down on my knees begging and you just looked at me like I had rolled around in the trash.”

“You were quiet today, behaving like a normal person-”

“Go on, call me a good boy. I know you want to,” He rolls his eyes.

You laugh out loud at that; he did know you well.

“Nah, you´ve ruined it the moment you opened your mouth.”

“Guess I´m a bit further from perfect than I thought, getting there though. How was the movie anyways?”

“Oh, did it end already?” You asked, finally looking at the TV and realizing the credits must have been rolling for a while. “Wasn´t paying attention.”

“What were you even doing?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, a second away from calling you stupid.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Calling Mingyu,” You half-lied.

At that, he managed to furrow his eyebrows even more, the biggest judgmental face he had ever sported looking up at you, “Why? Are you suddenly into him again?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don´t know, just-”

“Oh my god,” His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth in shock. “It´s a booty call.”

“It´s that what people call it these days?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

“Oh my god, so it is.”

“I guess?”

“Y/N, it´s been like 2 years. I know you´re hot and he´s a man but I think that conversation would be kind of weird. Were you planning on texting him a wanna come smash?” He questioned you as he sat up. “Do you even have his number?”

“No, I - I don´t know. I- Let´s change the subject.”

“Let´s absolutely not.”

“You´re being annoying.”

“Aren´t I always?”

“Yes, defin-”

“If you´re horny, why don´t you text that last guy you were going out with? He was hot too.”

“Ew, don´t use the word horny.”

“Would you prefer I call you needy?”

Maybe you would, yeah, very much.

“No, ew. Just stop talking all-together.”

“So, why don´t you text him?”

“You know I can´t really enjoy it much when I´m not like, close to the person.”

“So you thought of your ex,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

“Has literally not even one of the guys you hooked up with gotten you off?��

“I mean, some of them did. But I don´t want to just get off, I-I- I don´t even know what I want, can we please chan-”

“You want to be treated like the little pillow princess you are, got it.”

Did he have to say it like that? Suddenly you felt the pulse between your legs raising its intensity. Oh god no, you were absolutely not getting turned on by Wooyoung´s crude choice of words.

Anyone but Wooyoung!

“Who says I´m a pillow princess? Am not!”

“Ah, please. You scream I´ll bring nothing to the table besides looking pretty.”

“Is that how I come off as?” You gasped at that, feeling deeply offended. “You´re full of shit.”

“Why are you even getting mad? There´s nothing wrong with that, I´m sure you´re really good at looking pretty under a guy.”

“Please stop picturing someone else fucking me?”

“Who says I´m picturing someone else?” He winked at you teasingly.

You literally, in your over 20 years of life on this earth, have never - not even once - thought you would actually choke over someone´s words. This was Wooyoung, you were used to his ways, c´mon!

“Yeah, let´s not do that.”

“Awn, pretty princess got flustered,” He cooed at you.

You knew he was just teasing you; you knew there was no real sexual intent behind his words because that was Wooyoung, he flirted and teased as naturally as he breathed - but they still got your thighs tensing and you hating yourself for it. Couldn´t you just take a joke for what it was?

“Although now that I´m thinking about it, I wouldn´t be surprised if you turned out to be a brat in bed. You´re already the biggest one normally.”

“Look who´s calling me a brat,” You rolled your eyes once again. It didn´t matter if he was right or wrong, Wooyoung had no right calling anyone that when he was the way he was.

At that, he presented you with the most attractive smile you think would ever exist in the world, a mixture between cunning, excitement and condescending, “You think I´m bratty?”

“Oh, I´m sure of it.”

“Maybe I´m just good at matching energies, you know?” He winked, teasing you further.

“Fuck off. I know San forced you on your knees more often than I´d like to imagine.”

“Because I allowed him to.”

You snorted, “Yeah. Sure thing, honey. Now let´s move along, please.”

Except that, your mind decided to in fact, consider his words. Wooyoung liked teasing and annoying people for his own entertainment, he whined at you every time he didn´t get things his way and he was always playfully flirting with everyone - and you meant literally everyone. Because of that, you had always just kind of assumed (but never spared it many thoughts, thank God) that your best friend was just someone who like to be dominated when in relationships, or sexual encounters for the matter.

But honestly, you could kind of see it differently after his comments. It was true he always had everyone wrapped around his fingers and somehow, he always managed to get things his way - Wasn´t that also some form of control? The lines were kind of blurred when it came to Jung Wooyoung, but that was kind of even more attractive to you.

“Oh my god, you´re thinking about it,” Wooyoung teased.

“You´re the one who started it!”

“You don´t have to stress your pretty little head over it,” He smiled, his finger finding it´s place under your chin to tip your face in his direction playfully. “I can show you.”

Oh, absolutely not.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a millisecond at his words, your guard crumbling surprisingly fast as you practically whimpered, “I know you´re joking but can we please not?”

“Why?”

Couldn´t he stop giving you that annoying freaking smile?

“Because I am kind of horny and I really don´t want to go there,” You practically growled.

Now he was the one who broke character, not expecting you to be actually affected by his jokes, before the teasing smile was back on his face in a heartbeat - but you saw it.

“Did I make you horny?” He teased.

“Of course not, I was already horny before. I´m just in a weird mood.”

It wasn´t necessarily a lie. If you weren´t already feeling some type of way since earlier, you would have never - and you really mean that - caught yourself thinking about Wooyoung´s stupid plump lips or if he could actually fuck you.

“So, you were thinking about getting dicked down while I was here innocently lying down on your lap? You´re dirty,” He snickered.

“It wasn´t weird until you made it weird,” You groaned in frustration. This is really not how you imagined your afternoon would go down.

“Want me to help you out?”

“Got any hot friends who are also not my friends?”

“I do,” He nodded with his head. “But I´m also right here.”

Your eyes almost flew out of your head. You always judged yourself as the only person immune to Wooyoung's weirdness, deeming that nothing the man did or say would ever surprise you since you basically were the same - but you now guessed the tests became harder as the years passed.

“I can´t really tell if you´re joking-“

“I am absolutely not.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“I know you can use your big girl words.”

“Because as much as it pains me to admit it, we´re best friends. I guess?”

“Now you´re the one who´s making it weird. You´re hot, I´m hot. You´re horny, now I´m horny. What´s wrong with helping each other out?”

“What´s wrong is that I never really saw you like that!” You whined.

“But you´re seeing now.”

“Yeah, and I don´t like it!”

“Tell me,” He raised an eyebrow at you, a devilish glint on his eyes matching his smile once again.

“What?”

“What you imagined me doing to you.”

“Oh my god. Nothing!”

“Oh c´mon, I won´t think you´re in love with me or anything. I know we´re friends and I´m a man, if there is one thing I can understand is simple plain old horniness.”

“How is this so easy for you?”

“Oh, I already imagined fucking you many times. In many different ways, too,” Wooyoung stated so casually, like he was talking about his shopping list for when he went to the supermarket later. “You know that one time at Seonghwa´s pool when you were wearing that little orange bikini? I must have made up at least 4 different scenarios, just that day.”

“I feel kind of violated?”

You also felt the way something throbbed in between your legs at his words but he didn´t need to know that.

“As I said: I´m a man, Y/N. I love you and would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or fuck up our friendship, but there´s nothing wrong with fantasizing. It´s not like I actively decide to do it either, it just happens, I don´t know.”

“Do you just casually think about fucking all your friends?”

“No, only the hot ones. And it´s not something I keep thinking about all the time, I´m not a creep. Just once every blue moon hormone takes over or something. Also, you´re a fool if you think any of your other friends who are into women have never, not even once, thought about fucking you.”

“Yeah, I´d rather be a fool,” You rolled your eyes. “Also, San hasn´t!”

“San would quit his dream job in a heartbeat if I called him over for a threesome right now.”

“Yunho then! He would never -”

Wooyoung laughed at that, “Honey, I have something to tell you-“

“Please don´t.”

“Anyways, you´re not lacking options to help you out. All I´m saying is that I´m here and I´d be more than glad to be the one,” He had the audacity of winking at you. “Since you were already thinking about it.”

“I´m begging you to please drop it.”

“Only if you tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Oh my god! You know what? Let´s play your stupid fucking game, Jung Wooyoung. I´ll tell you if you tell me first.”

“So, you do know how to have fun,” Wooyoung gave you a big smile, his eyes disappearing in happiness as if you had just told him you got him a new car. “What do you want to know?”

“About the day at Seonghwa´s pool.”

“Fun. I will use your own words then: I was in a weird mood that day and then you just took your clothes off and looked so good in that bikini. You were sunbathing and at some point in the afternoon you went inside Hwa´s house to get something from the kitchen and my brain just kept flashing images in my head: what if I followed you into the empty house, pushed you against the nearest wall and fucked you, watching as you tried to keep quiet so the others wouldn´t hear from right outside? Your cheek red from rubbing against the wall, your -”

“That´s scenario number one.”

“You want all of them? Kinky.”

“I can just go-“

“Calm down, princess. See? I knew you were a brat.”

“Wooyo-“

“Later when I was sitting down on the sunbathing chair with you while you were helping me out with the sunscreen, I noticed how my hand was so close I could pull the bottom of your bikini to the side and just slip my fingers in, right there in the open, no one would even notice. I wondered if you were already going to be wet and how you would sound trying to keep your noises inside with my knuckles deep into you. I couldn´t imagine a better sight than you all pretty clenching around my fingers or how you would look trying to casually spread your legs for me without anyone suspecting. I even went as far as imagining us getting caught, can you picture Mingi noticing what a little slut you are and trying to watch without getting caught himself? Poor boy wouldn´t know what to do with himself, would just loose his mind at how hot you´d look. I wondered if you´d like that he was watching –“

“That´s scenario number two,” You interrupted before the skin where you dug your nails into could start bleeding from your efforts to ground yourself and not squirm like an animal in heat at Wooyoung´s words.

He was good, you had to give him that.

Wooyoung laughed at you and you wondered if he had any clue about what he was doing to you. Then you mentally slapped yourself because of course he did, he had eyes.

“When everyone went inside to make some drinks and start on dinner, you sat there on the edge of the pool and started kicking water at me. Remember that? I happened to notice the edge was just the perfect height for me to eat you out from the pool, and you even had your back to the door. We were all alone out there and even if someone came out, I would be hidden from their view in between your legs. I could picture my hands holding your thighs open and your back arching-”

“Yeah, ok. That´s enough. I´m going to go, humm, shower or something and you can just like leave-”

“Can I join?” He joked as you stood up.

“No.”

“Can I at least stay outside listening?”

“What? I´m not going to mastu- Wooyoung, I´m just taking a cold shower.”

“OK, go cool yourself off, princess. I´ll wait for you here,” He informed, unlocking his phone once again and showing you his screen where his game was loading.

“Yeah, ok. Suit yourself.”

“You really should let me listen as payback for getting me horny,” He screamed once you were already down the hallway.

“You got yourself horny,” You screamed back before shutting the bathroom door behind yourself.

You silently screamed against your hands as you let your body slide down the door.

What the hell just happened? How many lines did you just cross?

Why was Wooyoung suddenly so hot?

And so, a cold shower you took and thankfully, after you left the bathroom, no one talked about the subject for the rest of the night and just pretended that nothing had happened.

Except that now you were miserable and your mind echoed Wooyoung´s words every time you looked or thought about him. It was not optimal to be crossing your legs in the middle of class at university because you accidentally caught yourself staring at your friend´s veiny arms for half of the lecture.

★

“You´re still horny,” Wooyoung stated a few days later when you were literally getting ice cream after class.

“And I´m actually mortified that you noticed.”

“You´re being stubborn.”

“We´re not fucking, Wooyoung.”

“Dude, at this point I am genuinely feeling bad for you. We can ask Mingi or whoever, just please get some dick.”

“You´re being kind of sexist-”

“Y/N, you look constipated. I am worried for your sanity.”

“Just shut up before I stop talking to you.”

“I can use a blindfold or something if you´re worried about me seeing you naked-”

“You´d like that, wouldn´t you? Submissive bitch.”

“Don´t degrade me unless you mean it,” He winked at you.

“You are actually insufferable.”

“I´m just trying to help.”

“You can´t because you don´t understand that this isn´t just about getting some dick!”

“So what is this about? You tense every time my hands get near you -”

“Wooyoung, this is an ice cream parlor. There are kids around, just shut the fuck up.”

“So let´s go to my place.”

“I´m not getting inside any closed spaces with you unless there are more people around.”

“Kinky.”

“Oh my god, you know what I mean.”

“I know, just let me tease you. Ok, but seriously now, I think that in order for me to do my duties as a best friend, I need to understand what´s going on.”

“Since when do you care about your best friend duties? You once left me behind alone at a party to get fucked by Yeonjun or whatever you two-”

“Allegedly.”

“No, Wooyoung. Not allegedly, it was literally me that you dragged to a corner to inform you´d be going upstairs with Yeonjun-”

“No one knows what happened in that room.”

“Yeah, thank god.”

“Ok, whatever. Let me help you, tell me what´s going on inside that little messed up brain of yours.”

“Nop. I really would rather lock myself inside the industrial freezer in the back.”

“Yeah? Then I´m texting Mingi to go to your place and give you the fuck of your life tonight-”

“Wooyoung!”

“Y/N!”

“Just drop it.”

“No! Do you actually miss Mingyu? Or dating? Do you want a boyfriend? Is that it?”

“No,” You groaned, hitting your forehead against the table.

“So?”

“Just- I need alcohol if we´re going to talk about this.”

“Ok, let´s go to-”

“Wooyoung, it´s 2 in the afternoon.”

And so, he let it go for the moment, but the next time he saw a single drop of alcohol near you, he sat down next to you and crossed his hands like he meant business, a pointed look on his face.

★

“So?”

“This is literally my first shot.”

“Then take it.”

“Fine,” You begrudgingly complied, and you hadn´t even placed your glass back down before Wooyoung was already pouring you more. Figuring you weren´t going to escape this conversation, you downed your second shot and sighed in defeat.

“Now tell me why you aren´t getting your back blown out at this very moment.”

“It´s really weird talking about sex with you.”

“We talk about sex all the time.”

“Yeah, about other people, not about me, or about you suddenly being willing to fuck me- “

“Not suddenly.”

“Yeah, whatever. Pour me some more.”

“That´s what I like to hear,” He smirked at you, eyes glinting as he filled your glass up.

“Y/N looks miserable,” Mingi suddenly stated, dropping his body next to you on the couch coming from seemingly nowhere.

“Doesn´t she?” Wooyoung agreed, giving you a pointed look as you punched Mingi for the out-of-pocket comment.

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the tall man next to you, excited for a change of topic.

“The kitchen,” He absentmindedly answered you, hand busy filling up the glasses in front of you before handing you one. “Take a shot with me.”

And so you did, hissing at the burning sensation and taking deep breaths to not gag at the taste of tequila.

“OK, why does it look like your house burned down?” The man turned his attention back to you after smashing the empty glass on the little center table in front of you.

Damn it, Mingi.

You didn´t even have the time to begin forming any kind of excuses before Wooyoung answered for you in a heartbeat, “Little Y/N over here is horny.”

“Jung Wooyoung!” You gasped at his choice of words, thorn between hiding behind your hands, punching the man and apologizing to Mingi.

Mingi, in turn, was frozen in shock mid pouring himself another shot. And you meant that the man wasn´t even blinking, mouth open and hands stuck in the air holding the glass bottle which you took from him afraid he would break it.

“See what you´ve done?” You sighed to Wooyoung, elbowing his ribs as you tried waving your hand in front of Mingi´s face for a reaction.

“Wait, what?” Said man came back to life, his voice way higher than what you´re used to.

“You heard it, man. She hasn´t been fucked right in ages-”

“Wooyoung, you know what you said about wanting to keep up with your best friend´s duties?” You asked between gritted teeth, about ready to jump the man and rip all of his hair out. “This is really not it.”

“But you´re hot!” Mingi seemed confused.

“I told her that!” Wooyoung ignored you. “I even told her you´d volunteer to help her out-”

“I so would-”

“Shut the fuck up, you two! Wooyoung, I´m about a second away from blocking you on my phone and never seeing you again,” You were also as close to ripping your own hair out. “Yes I´m horny, the whole world doesn´t need to hear about it.”

Mingi noticed the crazy look behind your eyes and rubbed your back in comfort, he too knew what Wooyoung could do to people when he decided to be annoying.

“It´s ok, love. We´ve all been there,” Mingi assured you and his words did soothe you a bit.

“It´s just – You guys don´t get it. It´s not about just sex. I know I could literally fuck anyone at this party if I wanted to, I´m not dense. I guess I just miss dating but I don´t really want to date anyone at the moment?”

“So like a friends with benefits thing?” Wooyoung pressed.

“No, that´s just fucking with a fancy title. I mean like, I miss being touched and hugged and pampered and – I don´t know.”

“Every time I try to hug you, you freeze and glare at me!” Mingi pouted.

“I´m just not a touchy person!”

“I know! That´s why I´m not understanding what you want.”

“Just forget it-”

“I get it,” Wooyoung interrupted.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“You want a boyfriend without the obligations and feelings involved with a relationship. I was right, you´re needy.”

“Oh,” Apparently it made sense to Mingi too.

“Ok, and with that, I excuse myself,” You say, already standing up to go find someone else to hang out with because you were definitely not ready for the rest of that conversation.

★

“What are you doing here?” You asked in annoyance after opening the door to your place to a very content looking Wooyoung.

"I came to be your boyfriend-not-boyfriend,” He smiled proudly.

"We're not fucking, Wooyoung,” You managed to sigh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Which is exactly what I told you the other 50 times you suggested it."

"Who said anything about fucking? I'm just here to force the touch-deprivation out of you. Now move, I brought snacks," He said as if he hadn't already pushed you out of the way about midway through his sentence.

You sighed in defeat, accepting your peaceful quiet night was ruined - You hadn't even locked the door yet and Wooyoung was already sprawled on your couch organizing the snacks on your coffee table, making way more noise than necessary.

"At least you brought my favorite," You noticed, arms crossed as you stood up next to the couch.

"These are all your favorites," His eyes were even shining with the amount of pride he had for himself.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"You called Seonghwa, didn't you?"

"Only about the chips."

"Knew it."

"It's not my fault you literally change your opinions every day."

"Welcome to girlhood."

"Now sit down and I'll put something on Netflix."

"Wooyoung, why-"

"Y/N, listen," It was his turn to sigh. "You helped me through a lot when everything happened with my grandpa and you were always there for me when shit went down, just let me help you this once however I can."

"Ok, got it. Enough with the sentimental talk," You quickly obeyed. You didn't like serious Wooyoung.

"Now, are we feeling Criminal Minds?" He asked once you were sitting next to him, remote in hand.

"Sounds great."

“Perfect,” Wooyoung agreed as he put on the show, quickly standing up to turn off the lights before sitting back down and opening his arms. “Come here.”

“Uh, I would rather not.”

“I don´t care, we´re doing this.”

“I don´t think forcing me to cuddle you will help much-”

“Do you want me to really force you? Because I can,” He raised his eyebrow at you, arms still hanging in the air.

“I´m pretty sure I´m stronger than you-”

“Oh my god, just shut up,” He groaned and rolled his eyes at the same time, bending his body forward so he could grab onto your waist and pull you against his chest.

Ok, yeah. He was definitely stronger than you.

“Can you not make it so difficult?” He asked once he noticed how stiff you were in between his legs. “Stretch your legs, relax.”

You decided against reminding him that he was in fact forcing you to do this and obeyed, he was just trying to help after all and maybe he did have a point: Some human touch might help calm your mind down. Also, the quicker you played along, the sooner it would be over. So, stretching your legs across the couch you did, letting your body relax against Wooyoung´s, who contently wrapped his arms around you as you both turned your attention towards the Tv.

Well, that lasted for about 10 minutes before you started feeling the heat of your friend´s skin radiating and everything started making sense: Being held by someone you loved really was comforting. Huh, who would have guessed?

You generally hated being touched by people but right now you kind of felt like a cat, wanting to rub your head on Wooyoung´s shirt and snuggle into his warmth.

“Can I play with your hair or will you bite my hand of?”

“You can try,” You answered, not wanting to admit he was right all along and that you would very much like more of whatever this was.

You could practically feel the roll of his eyes at your threatening tone as he pulled your head like you were just one big barbie doll, so your right cheek would be rested against his chest, turning your body to the side so now your right shoulder kind of met his chest instead of your back.

“Ouch, you could be gentler,” You complained, rubbing your forehead skin where his palm was planted seconds before.

“When you deserve it,” He grunted, eyes fixed on the Tv.

“That was not very let me help you of you.”

It was easy to tell he bit back his comeback, simply taking a deep calming breath and burying his fingers in the hair behind your neck, gently rubbing the area – Maybe you would purr. Judging you now had the upper hand, you decided to in return wrap your own arms around his wait so you could get comfortable and Wooyoung gave you a cocky victory smile.

Damn it.

The two of you went through the entire episode like that and you were so relaxed that when Wooyoung stood up to open the snacks and grab some wine, you didn´t even complain about how that was a bad idea, sharing some glasses while you watched the second and third episodes and he tossed you around into every cuddling position you never even knew existed, discussing who you though were the killers and all the little gossips of the week.

“You could create like a cuddling Kama Sutra,” You joked, kind of dizzy because of the drink – or because you had an incredibly attractive man holding you for the past 2 hours or so.

“Will you quit complaining about my touchy personality now?” He smiled.

“Nah, this was a one-time thing.”

“Are you at least feeling a bit better?” Wooyoung asked, adjusting himself on the couch to look at you since you were now sitting side to side after the last episode ended.

“Yes, actually.”

It was true, you were no longer feeling like you could rip your entire skin off if you went through another second of someone not touching you.

“I have one last move prepared,” He informed excitedly.

“We´re not fucki-”

“Oh my god, will you quit it with the fucking thing? If you keep bringing It up I might start thinking you´re interested-”

“What was the idea?” You quickly asked, trying to cut the flirting off before it could lead your brain somewhere you spent the entire night not wanting to go.

“Let me give you a massage.”

“Wow, you´re really invested in this helping me thing.”

“Contrary to your big mouth, I am a good friend. Sit down right here,” Wooyoung ordered, opening his legs and pointing to the space on the floor in between his feet. “Tonight I´ll take the neediness out of you the best I can since you refuse to go out and get some dick.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored his remark, sitting down where he showed you and waiting silently as he gently gathered your hair and moved it out of the way. You cursed at how your skin erupted in goosebumps as his fingertips brushed against the side of your neck, your breath suddenly caught in your chest.

You followed the realization that this was probably a horrible idea with another glass of wine, thankful he couldn't feel your heart beating fast.

Wooyoung worked his thumbs in circles, digging them between your scapulae and pressing them up until they reached your shoulders, which he squeezed in the perfect strength to get shivers running up your spine every minute as he repeated the motion over and over.

“How are you so good at this?” You whined, hating how your body was reaction to the touches.

“There´s really nothing I´m not good at.”

“Humbleness,” You offered.

“That was a cliché answer, you can do better than that.”

“I don´t care, just please never stop.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Do you really need to make everything sexual?”

“I´ve always been that way, it´s not my fault that now that you´re horny it´s bothering you.”

You hated when he put it like that, because yes.

And maybe the way he sometimes would squeeze your neck during the massage or just the fact that he was touching you, were getting you feeling some type of way you would rather he did not notice.

“If you were a girl, you´d understand,” You groaned. “Ovulation sucks.”

“You actually just gave yourself the perfect solution, why don´t you fuck a girl?”

´Cause what I really want is fucking you.

Oh, wow.

Where did that come from?

“Speaking of which, do you even know how to?” You ask, admittedly kind of shy of asking such question.

“Know how to what?”

“Like, have- you like- With women?” You try, motioning widely towards the couch with your hands as if it would help you get your point across so you wouldn´t have to say the words.

Wooyoung seemed to get it though, hands suddenly stopping on your back so you would look at him, “Y/N, you do know I have fucked women, right?”

“How would I? You never told me!” You whine.

“I thought it would be disrespectful?”

“But when you told me how much you loved choking on San´s dick it wasn´t?”

“Well, no-”

“Or when you literally shared about how you thought about your fingers inside of me?”

“You asked for it!”

“I don´t believe you,” You narrowed your eyes towards him. “There´s no way I wouldn´t have known.”

“Do you want like a list or something?”

“What? No! That would be disrespectful.”

“See?”

“Ok, no, wait. Just tell me this: Lauren?”

“Yes.”

“Wooyoung, nooooo!” You whined.

“What? She´s hot!” He was exasperated.

“Oh my god, everything makes so much sense now.”

“Wait, did you really think I was gay? We´ve know each other for years! I talk about women all the time!”

“Yeah, but I thought you talked about women like Kevin talks about Beyoncé! Like in a slayy pussy queennn way, not in a I´d want to fuck her way.”

“Would you like me to go around harassing women?”

“No, listen: I didn´t think you were gay, I just kind of never thought about it?”

"You though I was just joking around with you the other day and you still got all hot and bothered?" Would he quit teasing you? "Kinky."

“I thought you were playing and I didn't get any way!"

“Whatever you say, princess - Wait, why did you think Ali was always hanging around my neck all these months?”

“I just thought she was kind of crazy – Wait, did you fuck her that good? She wouldn´t leave us alone for a second, it was driving me insane."

“I just told you there´s nothing I´m not good at,” He winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

You wanted to die.

“Wooyoung,” You warned.

“Awn, am I getting to you?” His tone was so sarcastic and condescending that a fire burned inside of you that you were afraid was never going out.

“It´s the wine,” You assured, more yourself than him.

“It´s always something.”

“See? That´s why I told you I didn´t want to be alone with you.”

“Afraid you´ll jump me?” He mocked. “I´m not scared.”

"Just shut up. If whatever you're saying is true, I just want you to know you have the worst taste in women ever."

"Well, considering I would love to taste you more than I would anyone else, I agree," He played with your words.

“Go wash the glasses,” You ordered, the skin under your cheeks burning.

“Yes, ma’am,” He answered with a laugh, immediately standing up and following along.

When you were alone in the living room, your face fell between your hands in despair.

You fucking hated Jung Wooyoung and his fucking giant noise.

★

Stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung.

Fucking hell.

Cursed be the day that man was born and cursed be the hospital and the doctors and the nurses and everyone in the world for all you cared.

Your entire body was filled with rage as you opened the stupid coffee maker to pour the water into the compartment – which you had of course forgotten to fill 10 minutes earlier and almost burnt the whole office down. How would you explain to your boss that you started a fire because your brain was simply too busy flashing images of you sitting on your stupid annoying best friend´s face for the past 4 hours?

It has been 2 days since the day at your place, 2 nights since you've gotten a decent night of sleep. "Why is that?" One would ask. Well, the answer would be that your useless brain decided to sabotage you, having you dream about your best friend over and over again – Which wouldn't be so bad if 90% of the dreams didn't consist of you ridding said best friend's face, waking up sweating and wanting to scream.

At this point you just wanted to break Wooyoung's nose with a punch, so you'd never have to think about it again. After almost ripping your hair out in front of your computer, you decided on texting Hoshi for Mingyu's number - That's how desperate you were to get stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung out of your head. At least your friend assured that your ex was indeed single now and still didn't hate you, which was enough for you.

Not really knowing how to tell your ex-boyfriend, after so much time has passed, that you just wanted him to throw you around, things weren't going as fast as planned and you couldn't keep avoiding Wooyoung forever – One, because he has no sense of boundaries and would just show up at your place if you ignored him and two, you really didn't want to have the conversation that would go down when he found out why you weren't around.

It'd been over a week since you last saw Wooyoung in person, you were still in the talking stages with Mingyu, dreaming about your friend every fucking night and staring at his picture on the chatting app for hours while wanting to die. Now, you kind of genuinely didn't care anymore, Mingi and Wooyoung were right, maybe this was just about getting some dick – and you would find out if one could die of horniness if you didn't get some soon.

It was Saturday night, Hongjoong decided to throw a small party at his place to celebrate his birthday and you figured alcohol was a good solution since stabbing a knife into your brain wasn't an option. You even invited Mingyu, hoping in person and after a few drinks you'd figure how to ask him to bend you over – The man said he would be pretty late because of previous scheduled commitments but that he would go. Your ex was an incredibly attractive man who knew his way around a lady, maybe you would see all your problems flying away after tonight.

Except that after your first cup and some chatting with Mingi and Seonghwa on Hongjoong's couch, Wooyoung decided to arrive.

You took one (1) - ONE, UNO - look at the man and grabbed your phone, shooting Mingyu a text: don´t come, party´s canceled.

“Bro, your hair looks sick!” Mingi shouted before your brain could even begin to process what you were seeing.

You were the one actually about to be sick.

“Decided to try something new,” Wooyoung smirked, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

You simply stared at him dumbfounded, glad he was too busy stealing the drink from your hands to notice your mouth wide open.

Jung Wooyoung just showed up to the party with the bottom part and the front strands of his hair dyed blonde and you weren´t sure what kind of look that even was but you felt like it genuinely changed your whole life. You were pretty sure you got goosebumps when you first looked at him, lucky you were sitting down with the way your legs got weak.

“What do you think about it?” He asked you after he was content with finishing what was left in your cup.

“I hate it.”

Well, you weren´t lying. Your nails were literally digging into the palm of your hands to try and get your head back in place - The new look made his skin look tanner, the mole under his eye darker, the shape of his nose -

The way he pushed his hair back, blonde strands surrounding his face -

No, nop.

No.

“Since I know you´re joking, I´m gonna go say hi to Hongjoong and grab us more drinks so we can get this party started.”

You let him go with absolutely no fight, eyes wide and glued to his form until he was out of your sight as Seonghwa led him to where the birthday boy was supposed to be.

“Are you ok?” Mingi asked, noticing the crazy look on your face.

“I need Wooyoung to fuck me.”

Your brain definitely was short-circuiting.

“Oh. Wow. Ok.”

“I´m being serious. And I´m not happy about it.”

“Hasn´t he been offering for like weeks now?”

“Yeah.”

“So just go and tell him.”

“That´s not how it works.”

“Oh my god, why do you have to be so complicated?”

“I need him to offer again so I can say no, then when he insists, I will give in and pretend I´m kind of thorn about it.”

“And why is that?”

“So he doesn´t know he won! And I don´t like being vulnerable or whatever.”

“I know we said you need some dick, but maybe you just need some therapy.”

“Yeah, that too, but what I really need right now is your help.”

“Sure,” Mingi shrugged. That´s what you liked about him, things were simple with him.

“I need him to think I´m horny.”

“You are horny.”

“Yeah, but I need him to see it so he will joke about helping me out again.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Well, I could stand here with a bitch face all night, but it´s Joong´s birthday so I don´t really want to be like that. I don´t really have any other ideas-”

“Touch me.”

“What?”

“Like, be touchy with me.”

“Oh, that could work.”

“That will definitely work.”

“You´re good,” You complimented.

“You should come to me for help more often.”

“Don´t push it.”

“Fine.”

“You´re invested, huh?”

“Move closer,” He ordered and you obeyed, sitting sideways on the couch so you were turned towards him, left knee touching his thigh. “Lean forward and put your hand on my thigh.”

Despite your body´s discontent, you did as told.

“And don´t flinch when I touch you,” He warned.

“I feel like a spy,” You joked.

“All this because you can´t tell a guy you want to fuck,” He rolled his eyes.

“C´mon, pretend you´re not enjoying this, I dare you.”

“Touché.”

When your friends came back with more people tagging along, the first thing you noticed was the way Wooyoung´s gaze traveled immediately to your hand on Mingi´s thighs.

Ok, yeah, this could definitely work.

“Here, princess,” He handed you your drink, which you grabbed with your free hand.

“Thanks Wooyo,” You smiled at the man before turning your attention back to Mingi, not missing the way your friend squeezed his eyes at you.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t say anything about it, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch as a circle naturally formed in the living room so everyone could play something, and the first choice was the 007 game. You went along with the plan, hitting Mingi´s thigh instead of your own, touching his arm when you had to laugh, not going stiff when his hand met the skin almost at the hem of your skirt.

You know what? Mingi was actually really hot too, if this night didn´t end how you expected it to, you were so horny you were just about considering asking him to fuck you.

Whenever you looked in Wooyoung´s direction, you could practically see the engines turning in his head. It was just a matter of time now and you were already feeling shaky with excitement, which you weren´t exactly thrilled about – But then you looked at him again with that stupid hair and that stupid nose and that stupid half-unbuttoned shirt and decided that to hell with your morals and ethics.

Mingi apparently decided his role in the ploy wasn´t enough for him, since after an hour or so passed by and people started standing up to go after more drinks or socialize with other people, he waited for Wooyoung to approach before asking loud and clear, “So, any luck with the getting some dick thing?”

You were not exactly a good actress but you did know how to flirt, so not really knowing how else to react to the sudden improvisation, you smiled at him, “Why? Know someone interested?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I´m Song Mingi,” He half-joked, hand still heavy on your thigh. “Oh, Wooyoung. You´re here, didn´t see you there.”

He was good, you had to give him that.

“I can see why,” Wooyoung answered, eyes pointing at the contact between you two.

“Jealous?” Mingi asked his friend, his tone was humorous, but you could see the challenge in his eyes. Even though he was just playing, he couldn´t help being an egotistical Leo.

“I wouldn´t say jealous is the right word.”

“Did you know Y/N invited Mingyu over?” Mingi laughed.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I already uninvited him, asshole.”

“Is that why you´re all touchy today?” Mingi asked. Ok, you would have to buy him some ice cream after the phenomenal performance he was delivering. “Thought you would convince her to fuck someone, Woo.”

“Believe me, I tried,” He shrugged.

“Can we quit talking about me like I´m not here? Also, I´m not an animal in heat, stop being weird.”

Well, weren´t you?

Really?

“You sure seem like it,” Wooyoung completed.

“You look hornier than me, Wooyoung.”

“I´m not denying it,” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone with Yunho,” Mingi cursed, suddenly petting his pockets. He was so convincing you almost forgot he was helping you out. “Shit, shit, shit. I´ll be back later.”

With that he stood up and quickly marched out of the living room, Wooyoung lazily taking his place next to you on the couch.

“Were you really about to let Mingi fuck you?”

“Maybe?” You answer, and well, that wasn´t a lie either.

“Ouch, that kind of hurts my ego.”

“Mingi and I are just friends, now you and I are best friends. There´s a huge difference there.”

“So, you´re saying you´d fuck me if we weren´t best friends?” He joked. “Wow, thank you. I´m shy now. No need for all these compliments.”

You rolled your eyes, not sure what to say that would lead you towards what you wanted, choosing to just be normal and hope the night would eventually get you there.

“Why did you cancel on Mingyu?”

“Didn´t think he would throw me around today.”

“Someone´s getting bold.”

“Shut up.”

“I actually like frustrated Y/N, it´s hot.”

“Then stop bothering me to fuck someone and let me be frustrated in peace.”

“Well, that seems nice but I´m sure you´d look much hotter getting the frustration out.”

“Are we back to the “you imagining someone fucking me” thing?”

“I could correct you once again saying that I´m not imagining someone else, but since you´ve made it pretty clear that you´re not interested, I´m not going to.”

That was it, that was your moment.

“And what if I tell you maybe I am?”

He stopped to give you a knowing cocky smirk that made you immediately regret raising the white flag, “I know.”

“What? Ho- No -”

“Y/N, you wouldn´t stop staring at me like you wanted me to destroy you in front of everyone while Mingi literally had his hand on you.”

“That´s not -”

“Do I have to pretend I think you were squirming because of him and not me? I can play dumb if you´d like. I can even go call him back if you tell me you weren´t wishing it was my hand almost getting under your skirt instead of his. So, are you going to give in now or are we going to keep playing this game?”

“Wooyoung-”

“We´re best friends, I know. But I don´t see how you avoiding me because you get wet every time I´m around is doing our friendship any favors either.”

Ok, he did make a pretty good case even though you were already convinced like an hour ago.

“You´re right.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded – also not liking how the tables have turned one bit. Wooyoung in turn laughed and sent you another playful wink, “Trust me, you won´t want anyone around.”

“It took a lot from me to come to terms with this, so we´re either doing it tonight or we´re not doing it.”

“Oh, princess,” He gave you a condescending look that got you wanting to rip his hair out. “I find that hard to believe, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Wooyoung-”

“Y/n,” His voice was calm, hand finding its place on your thigh where Mingi´s was earlier, except this time the touch burned and got you fighting for your life not to squirm. “I said I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s, not that I´m not fucking you.”

“Then let´s go.”

“Now, that would be rude, wouldn´t it?”

“Why are being like this?” You whined, about a second away from actually hitting the cockiness out of him.

“You have this needy look in your eyes, like you´re ready to drop down and beg at any moment,” He smiled, his free hand gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he wasn´t talking about you on your knees. “It´s cute.”

“You know what will be cute? When I ask Mingi to fuck me instead.”

“If you can go to Hongjoong, in front of everyone, and tell him that we need to leave his birthday party right now because you can´t wait for me to fuck you, I´m good to go.”

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“Only when I know you´ll like it.”

“You know you were the one asking to fuck me for weeks, right?”

“I know.”

“You just know everything, don´t you?”

“See? You´re hot when you´re frustrated.”

“You think I´m sexually frustrated but now I´m actually just mad at you.” He simply smiled at you in return, and you rolled your eyes once you realized where you had dug your grave, “I forgot you have a degradation kink or whatever. Can´t even be angry at you in peace anymore.”

“If you´re really mad at me, we should fix that. I wouldn´t want my best friend to be angry at me.”

“I don´t think it´s possible to fix it considering being annoying it´s like your whole personality. Point proven.”

“Come say that closer,” He winked playfully, and you seriously would cringe at the number of times that man has winked at you if he wasn´t Wooyoung.

Ok, coming completely clean: You were also kind of annoyed at the way you were definitely getting wet at the banter between the two of you, like teasing each other wasn´t what your whole friendship has been about for years.

It also helped that Wooyoung´s hand was still on your thigh, veins sticking out and fingers filled with rings that you just couldn´t stop picturing against the skin on your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It took a second to decide if you would actually listen to that one braincell fighting for its life inside your head or not, but in the end, you decided against it, quickly standing up so you could sit on Wooyoung´s lap and take him by surprise as you straddled his thighs, one of your knees on each side of legs.

Yeah, there was definitely something pulsing in between your legs. Fucking hell.

You moved too quicky for Wooyoung to process what was going on, so it really was amusing the way he violently jerked once you moved your head closer, lips almost brushing his ears as you whispered, “What do you want me to say?”

For a second you had almost forgotten it was Jung Wooyoung under you, but he was fast to remind you as one of his hands found its place on the side of your thigh and the other grabbed onto your waist, where his thumb brushed gentle circles against your exposed skin. He took advantage of the fact you were already bent down to say against your ear this time, “You never told me.”

“What?” You asked, creating some distance between you so you could look at the smirk on his face and because you didn´t quite like the way you got weak when you felt his breath against your skin so closely.

“The other day, we made a deal. You said you would tell me what you imagined me doing to you if I told you first, but you ran away after I completed my part. You owe me.”

Under regular circumstances you would have stood up and left right then and there, but the way his palms met the front part of your thighs and started rubbing them up and down, a bit higher each time, got you wanting to play his game to see where it would end.

“You´re right. That day was the first time I ever thought about you sexually, and you know what triggered it?”

“What?” He smiled at the way goosebumps erupted all over your skin under his touches.

“Your nose.”

“So you like my nose?”

“And your lips, but mostly your nose.”

"And what about my lips and nose?"

"Was just thinking about how good they'd feel under me," You look into his eyes, centimeters away from yours, thankful that Hongjoong had deemed the lights at some point of the night and now Wooyoung's face was illuminated only by a pink hue, coming from a fake sunset light your friend had bought on AliExpress.

"That's good, ‘cause I've never wanted someone to sit on my face so bad before."

“Careful,” You warned, inching your face closer to his, toying with the buttons on his shirt as your lips were almost brushing. “We still need to go back to being friends after we fuck and get this off our systems.”

"I’m sure we can manage," He smiled, inching closer himself so now your lips were indeed touching as he continued speaking. "I'm a good friend after all."

"Kiss me then, I dare you," You breathed out, shooting your last shot.

He laughed at that, "You know I never back down from a challenge."

But well, it worked.

Wooyoung made his words true, grabbing onto your waist with a firmness that you didn't know he had to pull you closer. With your chests now glued, his lips finally pressed against yours and you hated yourself for not being disappointed. You so wanted the man to be all bark and no bite, but the moment his tongue met yours you understood why that girl wouldn't leave him alone. You had indeed kissed many people before, but it had never felt like this - and also, you were right, his plush lips were definitely something to obsess over.

What didn't surprise you at all, was that like in everything else, Wooyoung was a tease. In some moments when you would deepen the kiss, he would pull back a bit and bite on your bottom lip just to laugh when you groaned in annoyance. When he felt you were getting frustrated at his little games, he would grab onto your hips and grind them against his – which well, definitely got your mind to stop thinking about how insufferable he was. Good thing you knew how to play too, hands finding the roots of his hair to pull harshly on it, almost passing out at the whine he let out.

"I love that you're wearing a skirt," He groaned out.

"Why is that?" You were so breathless you almost got embarrassed.

"I can feel how wet you are."

Fuck.

"You must be imagining things."

"Oh, am I?" The cunning smile he gave you along with those words should have prepared you.

It really shouldn't have surprised you when one of his hands left your ass and snaked its way in between your bodies. You leaned back a little to try and understand what was happening, giving Wooyoung all the access he needed to get his hand under your skirt and press the pad of his middle finger right on your clit over your panties.

"Told ya," He smirked in content at the way you gasped involuntarily.

"Wooyoung-"

"What? Weren't you the one who couldn't wait?" He teased, rubbing slow circles with his finger. "If you're already soaked like this, I can't even imagine what it would be like if I just pushed your panties to the side-"

"No-" You whined, thorn between just letting him do whatever he wanted or stopping him - since you were very much in the middle of your friend's living room and there were people around.

"Getting shy now?"

“Wooyoung.”

“That´s my name,” You could see in his eyes how much fun he was having teasing you.

“You want me to stop teasing or stop touching you?” He mocked with a smile on his face, finger still working on you as you fought with all your life to not squirm on his lap.

“You know what? If you want everyone to see, I can put on a show,” You sighed, accepting defeat.

You expected Wooyoung to smirk once again but was instead surprised when he stopped and retreated his hand, adjusting your skirt back in place. Your heart dropped at the sight, searching for answers in his eyes, but they were busy looking somewhere else: Mingi had gotten back. You could see the way the tall man was frozen at the entrance, eyes wide and hand once again stuck in the air – this time holding his phone proudly.

You sent a glare at the intruder (as if there were not at least 10 other people in the room). The moment Mingi´s eyes caught yours, he jumped as if he had just woken up from a nap and he tried mouthing something like “sorry” and “oh shit” so you just rolled your eyes and motioned with your hand for him to move along, preferably far away. He seemed to get the message, almost tripping with how fast he spun on his heels and left.

“What? Weren´t you the one who wanted everyone to know?” You asked Wooyoung, tone pointy as you climbed off his lap. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you. THIS WAS JUNG WOOYOUNG.

YOUR BEST FRIEND JUNG WOOYOUNG.

THE GUY WHO MADE YOU DRESS LIKE A CHEERLEADER TO GO TO HIS COLLEGE SOCCER GAMES AND CHEER FOR HIM, THE GUY WHO BURPED AND LAUGHED AT HIS OWN DISGUSTINESS, THE GUY WHO DID A CRISTIANO RONALDO IMPRESSION EVERYTIME HE WON SOMETHING, THE GUY YOU HAD TO ONCE RESCUE FROM A PIG FARM AFTER DRINKING WAY TOO MUCH!

“Yeah, but I guess my protective best friend side spoke louder,” He sighed too, fixing his pants. “Don´t be mad.”

“I´m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I´m mad. Ok? Cause now the magic is over or whatever and I realized you´re my best friend and we can´t fuck.”

He turned around on the couch to be able to look into your eyes, his searching. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he simply closed his eyes, sighed once again and stood up, offering his hand, “C´mon. Let me take you home.”

★

“So, Mingyu huh?” Wooyoung asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear.

“Don´t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ask about another man and pretend everything´s normal.”

“Well, I guessed that now that we can´t fuck we can go back to being normal best friends.”

You locked your jaw and crossed your arms. You were angry and you didn´t even know what for – But you expected Wooyoung to fix it, nonetheless.

“Use your words.”

“No.”

“Ok, then. Silent ride it is.”

You huffed; aware you were acting like a spoiled child, but you were just angry at the mess inside your head and that your friend was not able to read your mind and untangle everything so it made sense. Maybe you really were just spoiled and angry you didn´t get what you wanted when you wanted.

“Oh. I get it now.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked, eyes moving from the road for a second to look at you.

“When you call me a brat. I get it now.”

“I was searching my brain for plausible reasons for you to be all sulky, for you to admit you were mad just because I didn´t fuck you at the party?”

“Yeah? Not just that, but you know I don´t like when things don´t go my way, I just wanted everything to happen fast so I wouldn´t have time to think about it but then when I thought about it, I felt bad because I still wanted it to happen but I know it shouldn´t.”

“Y/N, it´s sex.”

“Don´t make me sound stupid.”

“I´m not, you´re just really overthinking this.”

“Yeah, that´s the whole point. And it´s all your fault, so you see why I´m mad now?”

“Yes. I´m the worst.”

“You are.”

“Not when I fuck you, thought.”

“The moment has passed, Wooyoung. The train has left the station. Deal with it.”

“If you say so. Are you opening the garage, or should I park outside?”

“I didn´t bring the tag – Wait, are you going up?”

“Street it is then.”

“Answer me, stupid.”

“Yes, I´m going up.”

“What for?”

“You said it yourself, if we´re best friends and nothing more is ever happening, there should be no problem with me sleeping over, right? We´ve done it thousands of times.”

“Yeah,” You squeezed your eyes at him. You knew what game he was playing, trying to prove you wrong – But you were also convinced you were more stubborn than him and that you would instead prove him wrong.

“Slumber party, fun!” He exclaimed, taking the key out and tapping your thigh before leaving his car.

★

“Since this was kind of last minute,” You heard Wooyoung´s voice approaching your room, “I didn´t really bring any clothes.”

And there he was, next to your bed in nothing but a towel around his hips, long messy hair slightly dripping down his torso and toothbrush in his mouth, looking all casual like you both knew he wasn´t doing this on purpose.

The fact that it was working only made you even more annoyed.

“You know where the drawer with your stuff is,” You groaned, pretending to look at your nails.

He looked way too smug as he turned to your closet, opening said drawer to pull out some sweatpants. You kind of expected (or is it hoped the right word?) that he would just unknot the towel and expose himself to try and seduce you, but he behaved and simply pulled the pants under the fabric before unwrapping it.

“Have you not heard about underwear?”

“Have you not heard that it´s healthier to sleep without it? You should hang out with me more, I can teach you a lot.”

“Yeah, I already see you enough, thanks.”

“Come dry my hair.”

“I think you´re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.”

“Yeah, but I like when you do it.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pushing the blanket out of you, “Fine.”

Wooyoung walked to the bathroom in front of you, surely having planned the way his back and arms looked from behind. You had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times already, why did you feel like you wanted to jump him now?!!?!?!? You figured you were over it after coming back to your senses but oh boy, were you wrong.

“Has San been dragging you to the gym?” You asked as he bent over to get the hair dryer from the bottom drawer. You figured making small talk and acting normally would keep your brain busy.

“Yeah. And you would know that if you opened the hundreds of snaps I send you every day.”

“I´m not 14, Wooyoung. Snapchat died in 2015, sorry to inform you,” You joked as you plugged the dryer he handed you. “Give me the towel.”

He did as told, sitting down on your toilet as you started drying the water excess from his hair. Doing your best so no part of your arm or leg would accidentally touch his skin since you could feel the heat emanating from it.

That was no way of living.

Once the towel was completely damp, you tossed it on the floor and grabbed a brush, ignoring how he closed his eyes in appreciation at the touch. You fucking hated him and the way your heart was beating fast for absolutely no reason.

Now untangled, you reached over to get the hair dryer once again but were stopped with a soft touch to the side of your leg.

You looked down at the man expecting an answer and he simply gave you a lazy smile, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you in between his legs, “Come here. Let me look at you while you do it.”

Well, you let him pull you along because there was nothing really sexual about it, Wooyoung was just a touchy person and he looked like he was about to fall asleep anyways.

You turned on the dryer and used your fingers to move his hair around so the heat would get to his roots, feeling the skin of your face heat up at the way he hummed in content. Wooyoung had a lot of hair, and not just that, but he had a lot of thick hair, so you were already aware you would spend a long time in there, appreciating the silence and the fact he was pretty much out of it so you could let your guard down.

WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY you jumped in surprise when both of his hands found their way to the side of your thighs, just very softly rubbing them up and down as you dried his strands, goosebumps erupting all over your body at the delicate touch.

Once again, just sleepy touchy Wooyoung.

Nothing new, nothing to fuss over.

Except YOU WERE FUSSING OVER IT BECAUSE ONCE AGAIN YOU FELT A PULSE WHERE YOU DIDN´T WANT TO FEEL A PULSE.

This whole situation was just so domestic and nice that it scratched a very specific part of your brain that got you wanting to live in that moment forever – except maybe not with your best FRIEND.

“I like when you touch me,” His raw voice came out softly. “You don´t do it a lot, so I have to enjoy every chance I get.”

You didn´t have an answer to that, the only thing you could think to say was “stop” but how could he stop when he wasn´t even doing anything to begin with? This time it was not his fault that your mind was in the gutter.

“You have enough people touching you already,” You managed to string a few words.

“Yeah, but it feels nicer when it´s you,” He opened his eyes, you could see the sincerity in them and you felt bad that you kind of just wanted to punch him and run away.

You were also surprised by the sudden unexpected eye contact, which explains why you accidentally pulled one of his strands a bit harshly. WHAT WASN´T EXPLAINED THOUGH, WAS THE LOW MOAN HE LET OUT AND THE WAY HIS EYES CLOSED AS HIS MOUTH PARTED. OR THE WAY YOURS HUNG OPEN TOO AT THE SOUND OR THE WAY YOU COULDN´T STOP STARING AT THE STUPID MOLE ON HIS LIP.

It was a moment of insanity, a few seconds when your soul was out of your body; when you tentatively pulled on his hair again, feeling his nails digging into the skin of your thighs and his breathing getting heavier, yours matching.

“If you really don´t want us to fuck then you´re just being cruel right now,” He breathed out, eyes still closed as his forehead met your abdomen.

“I don´t?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. I don´t. I think your hair is dry.”

“It´s definitely not,” He argued, raising his head once again. “C´mon, finish it. No funny business, I promise.”

You wanted to tell him it´s not him you were worried about, it’s the way your own body was betraying you that bothered you, but you took a deep breath and continued with the work, doing your best to ignore his eyes on you or how his hands were once again toying with your thighs or how his thighs were touching your legs or how he was centimeters away from you.

Yeah, a lot of things to ignore.

Was your bathroom always this small?

“You smell nice.”

“I shower once in a while,” You agreed. “And you said no funny business.”

“I´m complimenting you, how is that sexual?”

“It´s not,” You agreed.

He smirked at you because he too was well aware of the tension, if the way his sweatpants were suddenly tight were anything to go by. Thankfully he didn´t answer because you don´t think you could continue to ignore it if he mentioned he was getting hard just by you drying his hair.

Eventually, after what felt like days, you finally turned off the dryer and prayed he would agree to your suggestion, “You´re done. Wanna sleep?”

“Nop, this is a slumber party.”

“What? You want to have a pillow fight now or do facemasks and gossip?” You rolled your eyes.

“Although the first option sounds fun, I was thinking we can watch something until we fall asleep.”

Watch something.

Until you fell asleep.

In your bed.

Sure, what could go wrong?

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked amusedly.

“Building a barrier between our sides of the bed.”

He laughed loudly at that, crawling into the bed too and taking the pillows from where you were organizing them, “Wooyoung!”

“Shut up, you enjoyed cuddling once and you will enjoy it again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Afraid you won´t be able to resist me? I thought we were just friends,” He teased.

“Very funny-“

“Because if you´re interested we can just skip the foreplay and go straight to –“

“What do you want to watch?”

You ignored his low chuckle, giving up on fighting for the pillows and getting comfortable on your bed so you could turn on the TV.

“Community?”

“Great,” You agreed between gritted teeth, opening the Netflix app and putting on the show from where you two had stopped it as Wooyoung fluffed the pillows behind his back next to you.

This time he didn´t even ask before pulling you in between his legs, your back against his chest. You didn´t even fight it because honestly, what for? You simply groaned as you felt him searching for the light switch on the wall over your bed.

“Don´t pretend you don´t enjoy it, I´ve got you all figured out now.”

“Yeah yeah, believe what you want to.”

“Shut up, I´m trying to watch the show.”

You huffed, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms all at the same time. You knew it wasn´t at him you were annoyed – although he was sure making a great job at feeding into it.

You also immediately regretted wearing shorts as the palms of his hands splayed over your thighs.

“It´s too hot,” You complained, hoping he would let you go.

Wooyoung simply stretched out one of his hands and grabbed the AC remote, turning it on before tossing it away and returning his palm to your thigh. His silence told you he was focused on the show and you truly wish you could say the same about yourself, but instead, your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you like it was a car wreck, not being able to look away no matter how much your brain ordered you to. Your knees were bent, your thighs almost touching your chest, so his hands were just right there in your line of sight, all veiny and calloused.

The harder you tried to stir your mind away and pay attention to the TV, the more your brain looked like a Wattpad fanfic written by a 40-year-old who just got divorced and discovered sex wasn't just missionary. The conversation you had with Wooyoung about how the girls he fucked became literally obsessed with him kept flashing into your head and you were legitimately about to bite onto your fist and scream for 7 whole minutes.

Your mental breakdown however was interrupted by the man behind you, who with no words started tracing his fingers – seemingly – unpresumptuously over your skin. You ignored it because you had no energy to fight it and as long as it stayed PG-rated it would be fine.

The soft touches plus the very cold wind from the AC hitting you got goosebumps to erupt up your skin and you just felt how your nipples were suddenly sensitive against the fabric of your shirt and Wooyoung´s hand were just there, mere centimeters away and oh, you so desperately wanted him to touch them. In fact, you wanted it so badly you were fighting for your life to keep the uncomfortable squirming to a minimum.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t notice it – deep down you knew he was just pretending not to for your sake, but if he could, so would you.

“Who do you think is hotter, Annie or Britta?” His voice suddenly, almost against your ear, shocked you. “Oh, jumpy, are we?”

“Shut up, I was just startled.”

“So?”

“Britta.”

“Same.”

He went quiet once again, except now, when you thought his mind was once again focused on the show, his hands started getting braver. They escalated from just his fingers drawing shapes on the patch above your knees to suddenly coming down to the sensitive skin between your thighs. You jerked involuntarily even though he only traced his fingers about halfway down your legs. Wooyoung once again pretended to not notice your reaction and you pretended to not notice he was touching you.

His fingers gently brushing the sides of your thighs all the way to your knees before you could feel the tip of his middle finger slowly grazing your skin down the inside of your thighs, lower and lower each time he came down. At this point your heart was beating so fast it was almost coming out of your throat, your breathing labored and sweat building up on your forehead even though the room was freezing cold.

“She´s kind of annoying, though.”

“Who?” You breathed out, honestly not even knowing your name anymore.

“Britta.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence once again.

Attention back to the show.

You had to control your whine of disappointment when he retreated his hands.

Ok, you took the chance to breathe, count to 10 and give yourself a pep talk. You could do this. You would not fuck your best friend. If not because of your morals and because of your friendship, because fucking him would mean he won, and you would never give Wooyoung the satisfaction.

Ok, you could do this.

You could definitely do this.

Wooyoung gently gathered your hair and pushed it over your right shoulder, the familiar goosebumps showing up once again at the way the tip of his fingers brushed against the skin of your neck.

Yeah, you could not do this.

The sound that came out of your mouth when his wet lips met the juncture between your neck and shoulder could only be described as a pinscher finding out it could bark. You were in fact shaking as much as those annoying tiny dogs are known for.

You froze, not being able to react when you felt him sucking on your skin or when his tongue tried to soothe the pain his teeth left behind. Your core was clenching so hard it hurt.

“Wooyoung,” Your voice came out as half plead half warning.

“Hm?” He hummed against a different spot on your neck, and it made it a thousand times worse.

“We shouldn´t-”

“Just tell me to stop and I will.”

Except you couldn´t. Not when he found your sweet spot and grazed his teeth against it before gently sucking on it. This time you allowed yourself to squirm and you felt it at the same time you heard it; Wooyoung groaned as you accidentally pressed against him and figured out you were not the only one going insane. His dick was hard and now very much pulsing against your ass and lower back.

Both of you realized you never told him to stop and you were fighting so hard to gain control of your body back as he kissed the vein on your neck - but it was all lost when his hands snaked around your torso and grabbed your boobs. You whimpered, shamefully, squeezing your legs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing.

His kisses grew harsher, as he sucked one spot hard enough to leave a mark, the pad of his middle fingers toyed with your nipples and you simply couldn't pretend you didn´t want this to happen anymore, not with the way you could literally start dripping onto your bed any moment now.

A gasp left your lips when his right hand grabbed onto your thigh and pulled your legs open. You felt his dick twitching when he saw the wet patch in the middle of your shorts.

“Oh, princess,” He sighed, pressing against the stain in pure admiration.

“Wooyoung-”

“Tell me to stop.”

He gave you no time to consider his words, pulling the bottom of your shorts and panties to the side and rubbing his middle finger down your slit to wet it. You carved your nails onto his thighs in return, doing your best to stay grounded. It didn´t even take a minute for you to understand why the prior girls who slept with Wooyoung became obsessed with him, you weren´t really doing anything yet and the second the pad of his finger found your clit while his other hand gently pressed down onto your lower stomach everything became even clearer. You threw your head back on his shoulder in pleasure as he rubbed figure eights against your clit.

Yeah, you agreed to pretend nothing happened starting tomorrow, but you figured you would never be able to forget the sound of your best friend´s deep moan against your ear when he felt you around his finger for the first time.

“Glad to see I´m not the only one going crazy,” He groaned against your ear - and when did his voice get so raspy?

You whined once again, not really knowing what else to do when you were practically on the edge from a minute or two of stimulation.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Wooyoung-”

“I love when you say my name.”

Were you about to cry?

At this point, you just wanted him to ignore you and throw you around and do whatever he wanted, but you knew he wouldn´t until you said so, and you were definitely not doing that. Although with every second that passed with his finger on you, that definitely was turning more into a probably.

“I never told you.”

“Wha- What?”

“From all the ways I imagined this happening, I never told you my favorite.”

“What is it?”

“It´s the one where we´re in a sleepover and you´re so desperate that you can´t even go to the bathroom, so you just very quietly put your hands inside your shorts and touch yourself right next to me thinking that I´m asleep. And I pretend I am, but I can hear the small whimpers you try to hold back, I can feel the slight shake of the bed and I can hear how wet you are so clearly. Sometimes, I even imagine you would decide to use me, not even try to wake me up, just sit on my face and ride it until I pretend to wake up and finally eat you out until you´re crying and shaking.”

When you literally had to hold yourself back from finishing at his words, you grabbed his hand and turned around on your knees, smashing your lips with no fanciness against his. He was quick to grab your ass and direct you to sit on top of his legs, your thighs on either side of his in the familiar position as your tongues met and you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck with all the frustration you had inside you.

“We´re not fucking,” You informed in between labored breaths.

“We don´t have to fuck, I just need you to sit on my face.”

You never whined so loudly in your life before.

That was the one single thing you have been dreaming about hearing for weeks now and you were so happy you could practically cry, in fact, you almost came right there without even being touched.

The link to Part 2 is at the top! <3

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