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apheliia · 8 months ago

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MORAL INJURY — a non-romance genshin impact series. ♫

act i, chapter iii "the crow, the mouse, and the doll."

➤ CHAPTER SYNOPSIS :: the mouse bites and gets bitten.

➤ CONTENT WARNINGS :: trauma and recollections of trauma, references to self-harm (briefly mentioned, and not done intentionally—moreso done in the panic of a stressful moment), crying, reader acts like dottore in scaramouche's eyes, choking, burns, bruises, implied broken bones, dissection, general gore/graphic warning, dehumanization/non-sexual objectification (both the reader and scaramouche), reader is fucking MEAN and feels guilty about it later, blood, prescription pills. generally, tread carefully when reading this chapter.

➤ WORD COUNT :: 4.0k.

➤ AUTHOR'S THOUGHTS :: HELLO MORAL INJURY NATION!!! CHAPTER 3 IS FINALLY HERE and it is horrible and terrible. because i love angst <3 a little note, be sure to click around on the words and symbols that are underlined at the top of this post! the word MORAL INJURY will take you to the series masterlist/navigation post, and the music note will take you to the spotify playlist.

➤ TAGLIST :: @zeldadou, @umgatochamadopercyval, @starryshinyskies, @www-songbird, @pookiebearcave, @lesanyanyas, @francisnyx. contact me through messages/asks/etc non-anonymously to be added.

After speaking to Collei—poor thing, they absently mused to themselves—they made haste in leaving Haeresys and returning to the main lab. Had they lingered even slightly too long, they were certain they’d run into its ruling segment, and they simply did not have the time to entertain his… antics.

(‘Antics’ meaning anything from standing next to him and listening to him explain the intricacies of his work with ancient Khaenri’ahn technology and entertaining him with the occasional question to being thrown into an active battle with a Ruin Guard. He insisted that it was to keep their skills with their delusion sharp, but they personally thought he just wanted to see them bleed a little bit. Though they always emerged victoriously, they did not always emerge unscathed. They’re certain their suffering brings him some kind of satisfaction.)

Thankfully, by the time they returned, the Sixth Harbinger was already waiting impatiently.

"Good afternoon, Lord Sixth."

"Hurry up," he scoffed, shooting them a wicked glare. Of course, they reacted naught. Being looked at like some kind of lab rat by Dottore was significantly worse than whatever glare Scaramouche sent their way. "I don't have all day."

"I understand," they reassured, gently setting down their bag on the very same counter that they cleaned of blood a few hours prior. "If you would, please remove your shirt, and describe the issues you are encountering to me."

His eyes followed their motions precisely. They wondered if it was some kind of trauma response. Nonetheless, he—shockingly—obliged their request, nimble fingers working to shed his upper layers as they snapped a pair of disposable gloves on.

"...The issues, sir?" they gently reminded, gloved thumbs gingerly pressing into his ribs to check briefly for any wounds or areas of tenderness they'd need to be mindful of. It wouldn't be unexpected for him, a Harbinger, to be injured, so they figured it would be best to check beforehand. "Would you mind telling me—"

A vague stinging sensation ran vertically across their lips, and they stopped.

"Reflexes." He smirked at the way their hand slowly raised to their now-bloodied lip. The pain didn't hit them for a few seconds, but even once it did, their expression remained boringly the same. The only indication they gave of having felt anything at all was a slight twitch of their lip. "My reflexes have been poor lately."

A surge of rage flowed through their veins. They did their best to suppress it.

"Lord Sixth, please take this seriously."

"Are you implying that I'm not?"

Agitation bubbled in their throat, but they again did their best to swallow it down and ignore it.

"I am not..." Their jaw clenched slightly as they let out a shallow breath. They had hoped their irritance would leave with it; unfortunately, their emotions did not dissipate even a little bit. If anything, the Balladeer's smug look just made them feel worse. "I am not implying anything, Lord Sixth, but I'm sure we both have better things to be doing rather than bickering like children over your necessary bodily maintenance. Would you rather Lord Dottore do this? If so, I will gladly take my leave for the day. I will tell you this once only—I am immeasurably kinder than he is."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't know. Do you want it to be a threat?"

His hands were wrapped around their throat in an instant. Within just those few brief seconds, they could already feel bruises beginning to bloom and burns beginning to boil their skin from his electro alignment.

They gathered all the strength they could manage in their legs and kicked him off, forcing all of the air—not that he really needed to breathe—out of his lungs. He remained relatively unfazed, but didn't lurch at them again. Their chest heaved as they shot him a dirty look from beneath their Fatui mask, which had been knocked slightly out of position.

(It wasn't often that they wore it. Honestly, around any of the Harbingers, they would usually just take it off. Both their name and face were well-known by now. Yet, they had diligently put it on before coming to see the Sixth.

They could not be certain as to why. It was only inconveniencing their work.

...Maybe they were trying to hide, as fruitless as that endeavor was and would always be.)

A deep, tired sigh left their aching throat. They turned away from him and laid their face against the icy wall, the bite of the cold much welcomed against the heat that had built under their skin from both anger and the recent struggle.

"Hah, what? Are you going to cry?"

"Do you want me to be honest, Lord Sixth?"

The monotone exasperation in their voice surprised him a bit. Nonetheless, an amused look settled on his face.

"Oh? If you so dare, you may speak freely, then."

"I wasn't asking for your permission," they scoffed, standing up straight again and removing their mask mandated by the Fatui. They turned back to him, meeting his eyes with such immovable nonchalance, such tiredness that only someone who worked with Dottore for years could possibly display. "I was asking whether you wanted to hear the truth or not. You want to? Fine. First of all, you wouldn't be the first to try and strangle me, so don't fucking do it again. Try something else if you really want to kill me. You think I haven't been nearly choked to death by Lord Beta or Lord Delta? Do you honestly believe that? Secondly, you are acting like a goddamn brat. Either let me do your maintenance, or be Lord Second's science experiment again. Your choice. I have not met a single person who would rather be at Lord Dottore's mercy rather than mine, so choose, and do it fast. I don't have all day either."

Silence. Then, a response came:

"...Hah. You've got some guts, talking to a Harbinger like that."

Static tingled along their flesh and danced in the air, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting for them to say something wrong, waiting for them to cross that invisible thin line from being firm to committing insubordination.

...As if they already hadn't. They couldn't be bothered to care. He was acting like a child. How were they supposed to be patient with him when they'd already been spread so thinly? Either way, it was a lose-lose scenario, because surely the Balladeer would accuse them of pitying him or infantilizing him if they did continue to be patient. Being frank was simply the better option.

Unbothered, they rolled their eyes. "I have no respect for anyone who makes my job more difficult than it already is. You aren't the only one with a hard job. You think I've got it easy? You wouldn't last a day in this position. Make up your mind, Scaramouche. Now."

"Tch."

"You want to be a test subject again? Fine by me. Have a good day, Lord Sixth."

But of course, that was not the end of the Sixth Harbinger's bite. No. It never was, for as they reached for their bag, his sneer reached their ears and made their fingers twitch with rage.

"What, like you were?"

The tattoo on their wrist throbbed with the ache of distant, blotted out memories.

All the nights they spent crying, wailing, hyperventilating, scratching at that foul tattoo on their wrist until their own blood coated their nails and oozed out of their raw flesh to blend with the scorching tears sliding down their cheeks and landing elsewhere...

All of that for a useless little brat to comment on the situation like it was nothing?

No. His Harbinger status be damned—no-one would disrespect them like that and get away with it.

"Don't you ever"—in a swift movement that even the Sixth Harbinger did not expect nor predict, they whirled around and pressed their foot into his chest further and further until they felt something crack under the pressure—"speak of my experiences in such a foul way ever again. It was one time. You have been here, in this very same position, for five hundred years. I was in that position one time. Do not speak in such a manner ever again. I will break you beyond fucking repair."

The Balladeer's porcelain skin burned. It was now his turn to be at the receiving end of elemental fury.

"Fuck you," he rasped. They put their foot flat on the floor again, shooting him a harsh glare.

"Fuck you too. Get back on the table or I'm leaving. How many times to I have to tell you? What are you, five? Are your listening ears off?"

"...Fine."

He begrudgingly stood up, hoisting himself up onto the examination table.

"By the seven," they cursed under their breath. "Finally... You want painkillers or not?" They somehow still found it in them to offer some kind of pain management, though they already knew he would deny it, claiming he 'didn't need it.' "There is no shame in saying yes, Lord Sixth."

"Don't you dare presume to patronize me. You really believe I'm so weak and—"

As expected.

As always.

"Whatever. I offered, so don't go around telling people I didn't give you options."

With that, they adjusted their grip on their sterilized scalpel and made the first of many cuts. If he wouldn't tell them what was really wrong, then they would just have to figure it out themselves—it would take longer, and likely be more painful and uncomfortable, but really...

He did this to himself.

The Balladeer was always a fascinating being to work on. If they were any less bitter, they would earnestly admit to being honored to have an opportunity to peer inside of him and poke around at his artificial systems, satiating whatever curiosity they might have had about him and how he functioned and—because of his creation being the work of an Archon—how one of the Seven's minds worked. As much as they may have disliked him, disliked his uncooperative nature, he was fascinating in his own right.

(It was like they viewed him as less of a person, less of a coworker, and more of a subject to be studied. As more of a thing, a creature. Hm.)

Scaramouche didn't bleed much. He bled, but never enough to inconvenience them. They were always able to simply pat away any blood with a tissue or a cotton pad when it began interfering with their work. He bled, but not like a human. Never like a human.

He wasn't one, so...

A soft whimper, a hitch of breath unnoticeable to the untrained ear drew them out of their thoughts. Their gaze briefly flickered to the Balladeer's face, fingers halting all motion. All the muscles in their abdomen tightened with an overwhelming sense of guilt and frustration.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek. If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. They chose to pay it as little mind as possible, if not for anyone's sake but theirs. His eyes were hazy and vacant, as if he were recalling some other event such as this one—as if, above him, he saw someone else.

They shook that thought off before it could spiral into something worse.

Whatever he was recalling was not their fault, and certainly not their business. It had nothing to do with them. It was no concern of theirs. It wasn't their fault. It was absolutely not their fault... right?

Were they being rougher than usual? Surely not, they thought, but upon shifting their eyes back to what they were actively working on... it became clear that they were.

He was bleeding more than usual. Their incisions were deeper than usual. Either way, they would have to peel him open eventually to get better access to his systems, but... generally, they were very gentle about it. As gentle as one could be about something so grotesque, anyway. Even so, for some reason they couldn't really place, he was bleeding more than usual. Their incisions were deeper than usual.

Oh.

As much as they wanted to apologize, the words only stuck to the sides of their dry throat. Their hands trembled a little at the realization of what they had done to him, of how cruel they had been to him the entire time. How could their cruelty outmatch a Harbinger's? How could their cruelty outmatch the Sixth's, of all people's?

Of course, in a job such as theirs, dissociation was a hell of a skill.

There was nothing they could do except grit their teeth, continue, and—ideally—wrap it up as soon as possible.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"Are you done yet?"

He sounded so vacant, voice lacking any of the bite, enmity, or sarcasm it should have held towards them. He should've sounded different, not... like this.

He sounded so broken.

...Did they really hurt him that bad? They'd hardly done anything different at all. It was always the same, they swore it was. It was the same as any other maintenance day in the lab.

Deep down, they knew that wasn't true, that they were only lying to make themselves feel better, but there was nothing to be done about it now. They wordlessly cut the last stitch, patting away the little bit of blood that remained.

"...I am, sir. If you don't heal properly, please come see me or Lord Dottore."

He didn't reply.

They reached up wordlessly, shutting the overhead surgical lighting off, hoping that the motion might snap him out of whatever daze he was trapped in. He hardly flinched.

Wordlessly, they pulled back from him, snapping their surgical gloves off. They absentmindedly found themselves a bit thankful that there wasn't much to clean up when it came to him.

"...Um. You can leave." They cleared their throat. "If— if you want to. I don't know when Lord Second will be back, so I would... leave. If I were you. I also need to sterilize the table, so... if you would..?"

He didn't respond.

"Right. Um... I suppose I'll leave it for one of the segments, then... I'm heading out for the day, Lord Sixth."

Guilt nagged at their conscience, and they wanted to apologize, but somehow the words got stuck in their throat and, no matter how hard they tried, could not be dislodged. So, they nodded in polite acknowledgement before quietly grabbing their things and heading out.

A weight settled in their gut as they swallowed thickly, stumbling out of the lab and closing the door behind them. A chill immediately settled into their bones; however, they paid it no mind, keeping their head tilted down as they walked down the halls and giving no response other than a hum to any other Fatui agents that nodded their way respectfully.

In their daze, they did not notice the looming presence they were about to run head-first into.

Run head-first into him, they certainly did.

A sharp gasp was inhaled through their nose, and their instinctive response was to snap at whoever it was they bumped into; before they could, however, they caught a glimpse of the person's footwear.

Il Dottore. One of his older segments, if they had to guess based on shoes alone. They did not get the chance to apologize. In fact, they barely even had the chance to process who they were looking at and how they should go about their apology; should it have been short and to the point accompanied only by a polite nod, or should they have gone as far as to bow at the waist level? The answer would slightly vary depending on what segment it was (there was surprisingly little variance overall, but they did need to express a bit more guilt with some segments for their apology to be accepted without punishment), but they had no time to even think about how to apologize before he began to speak.

"My, [Surname]"—they could hear the entertained smile in his voice, and in an instant, the gears in their head clicked together in recognition of what segment in particular they had run into—"terribly distracted, aren't you?"

"I'm..." They did not raise their head. Instead, they simply stepped back, hands fidgeting somewhat with the handle of the bag they held. "I'm sorry, Lord Psi. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Psi, twenty-third of Il Dottore's twenty-four segments, and—fortunately or unfortunately, depending on who one asked—the one who seemed to like them the most. A polite, straightforward apology without any excessive expressions of fear and respect would do.

He was no different than any of the other segments in that he was an oddity and an enigma, someone who was not easily understood, but he was more personable than most. Oftentimes, it was him who attended publicity events in the place of the man himself. The original Il Dottore was generally not known for patience or grace. Therefore, the most logical action would be to send someone more… agreeable to such events. Psi was the only candidate for that kind of responsibility. He was no less of a threat than the others—he was simply harder to anger and easier to get along with.

They supposed it was preferable to run into him instead of someone else.

"Well, that much, I can certainly see."

"Ah. Yes..." It was then that they finally straightened up and dared to peer at his face. "I should be going, sir. If you'll excuse me—"

"Wait just a moment, mouse."

Mouse. Mouse. He always called them that, if not their first or last name, and it made their stomach twist sickly every single time (they faintly recalled the first time he addressed them in such a way, but with that memory, they also recalled scalpels and cold metal digging into their skin that made their throat close up anxiously). It was demeaning and cruel and belittling. They expected no less from him.

...Yet somehow, he also made it sound fond, but not... fond. Fond, as one would speak to a pet—not fond in the way one might speak to a loved one.

And really, they supposed that to him, they were a pet. They were most certainly not a loved one; they were simply a favored little mouse. Small, docile, and fragile in a way that was endearingly cute—a thing that could be grabbed by the tail and dragged around against its will with nothing to say in opposition for fear of angering its captor. It was disgustingly fitting.

If they were a mouse—the prey—then they supposed that would make him a crow, the opportunistic predator who may not normally eat mice such as them, but could and undoubtedly would if he was given the chance to.

A mouse trapped in a cage, constantly circled by crows threatening to finally kill them at any given point without warning…

…Yes, that was accurate indeed.

The leather of his gloves brushed against their neck, tilting their chin up to get a better look at their throat. They tried not to swallow too harshly—he'd know if they did, and then he would know that they were nervous. Then again, he would know regardless, since their pulse was ringing loud in their ears and his thumb pressed into their neck dangerously near to where he would be able to feel their heartbeat.

He knew, and they were sure he was thriving on it.

"...Sir?"

"That is quite the nasty wound you've attained," he mused, withdrawing his hands from their neck, much to their relief. "I assume that the doll gave it to you?"

"Yes. Lord Sixth and I got into an... altercation."

"An altercation," he echoed, the very same amused tone seeping back into his voice. "I see. In that case, before you go, shall we treat this wound of yours? You would hate to worry your dear parents by returning in such a poor state, I'm sure."

It was clear that he was not asking. They had no choice but to wordlessly nod and follow him back to the lab.

Upon entering, gently shutting the door behind themselves, they were relieved to find that Scaramouche had left. They really weren’t sure if they were relieved for him or themselves. Were they relieved knowing he would not have to face one of the segments in such a vulnerable state of being (though, somehow they were sure that he had done so multiple times in the past), or were they relieved knowing they did not have to face him again? It was truly anyone’s guess.

Psi turned away from them, shedding his leather gloves and replacing them with disposable ones. They did not need to be told where to go nor what to do.

They hoisted themselves up onto the cold, metal table (they could not manage to fully ignore the pounding of their heart against their ribcage—being on the one on the table for any reason was exceedingly uncomfortable) effortlessly, though not before leaving their bag by the door to grab on their way out.

“Are you wounded elsewhere?”

Their heart leapt somewhat in surprise of the voice cutting through the silence, and they chided themselves for being so tense. “No, sir. Only around my neck.”

He hummed in a wordless acknowledgement.

As he turned back towards them, the click of his shoes echoing eerily as he got closer and only ceasing once he stood directly in front of them, they straightened their spine somewhat. When his hands reached out to them, they tilted their chin upwards.

They were not particularly interested in knowing what exactly he was doing; they only wanted it to be over as soon as possible so that they could leave for the day and return to the one place they dared to feel perfectly safe.

“I hear that Beta was quite upset upon learning that you’d been to Haeresys today, yet left without seeing him.”

They did not doubt it. Beta, the second of Il Dottore’s twenty-four segments… no, they did not doubt it whatsoever. He was very easily amused but equally volatile, and they knew he particularly liked the agents that were intelligent enough to understand even a little bit of his research; they were very possibly the first agent that would come to mind when thinking of someone who fit that criterion, unfortunately. They also knew that he was far more prone to anger than some of the others.

They very much hoped that he was only mildly upset. If he was extremely bothered, however, he might just decide to hold them hostage the next time they visit—it was certainly not above him to do so.

“Is that so?” they murmured, flinching somewhat upon feeling a gel’s cold bite against their wounded skin. “...I’ll make it up to him. Since I had to perform routine maintenance on the Sixth, I could not have stayed for long. Perhaps I’ll return to Haeresys on one of the lab’s less busy days.”

“Well, he will most definitely hold you to it. Don’t make promises you cannot keep.”

Somehow, they just knew that was a threat… a threat on Beta’s behalf, no doubt. They had long assumed that all the segments were connected mentally, though they had no real proof of that claim. They never cared to ask; it was simply always implied, a silent fact that they had been consciously aware of for quite a long time now. Moments such as these made them certain that it was true.

They did not reply, opting for a simple hum instead.

Moments passed in silence. Then, Psi spoke up once again after withdrawing from their body a final time:

“You are dismissed, mouse. Take these”—he placed a small pill bottle at their side—”for the next week. One pill twice a day, in the morning and at night. We cannot afford to let your wounds get infected.’

“Yes, sir.” They nodded. Only when he turned away from them did they get off of the table, taking the pills with them. Fear, more or less irrational in its nature yet nonetheless deeply ingrained into their instincts, still coursed through their veins. The racing of their heart had yet to settle down, and their hands trembled somewhat.

It was with quick footsteps that they darted towards the door, snatching up their bag, before making a quick departure.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! written by aphelion & banner by @www-songbird. do not plagiarize, copy, ai train, or otherwise use my work -☆

#✧— aphe's creations.#divider by @/cafekitsune ♡#platonic x reader #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #il dottore x reader #platonic scaramouche x reader #platonic il dottore x reader #platonic scaramouche #platonic il dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin series

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qveerthe0ry · 11 months ago

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Lions Ain't the Kind - Part Two

Summary: You and Frankie can't get each other off your minds'. He asks you on a third date. It's a success. Word Count: 5,741 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom!reader, a few brief mentions of alcohol, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, amab terminology for afab genitalia, kissing, making out, oral (afab receiving), dirty talk, premature ejaculation, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader A/N: Special shoutout to @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar for letting me bother them about this part while I was writing, love you both dearly <3

Frankie calls you later that night.

You helped him clean up after, popped some popcorn, and rewound the movie. He snuggled sleepily into your side; the orgasm apparently settled his nerves from before. You both joked about how not-so-great the movie was over a few beers, and then you sent him off with a buttery goodnight kiss.

But your phone rings as you’re settling into bed for the night, and you think maybe something is wrong, like his car broke down, or he left something at your place.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. I just made it home.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine. I just— I wanted to thank you.”

You laugh. Sweet boy, calling to thank you for getting him off.

“Was it that good?” You joke.

“No— I mean yes, yes it was. That’s not what I meant though. I’ve never been… Well, you know, I’m not so good at this stuff. And I’ve never felt like… this. And I like it. And I like you. So… thank you.”

Your face burns at his words, at the thought you could give this man something he needs, this man that you’re quickly developing a habit for.

“That’s sweet, Frankie. I like you too. A lot.”

You hear him huff through your tinny phone speakers and in a moment of pure weakness you wish you would’ve asked him to stay over.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yes. I really do.”

He laughs, and you can imagine it in your head, what his dimple looks like, the way his curls would look as he shakes his head.

“That’s awesome.”

——

Frankie’s a busy guy, you come to find out. He works fairly long hours at his mechanic shop, and he has custody of his daughter every other week, and he also attends community events, he calls them, every Wednesday.

Your business is relegated to the eight hours a day you spend in your office, and maybe a few hours here or there when you need to take work home with you.

And you’re not blaming Frankie for it, but the distance makes you want him so much more. He texts you all day long, staggered back and forth when you both have the time. He’ll call you some nights, when his daughter goes to bed early, just to talk about your days. But it isn’t enough.

It’s not enough because you can’t stop thinking about how he looks in your lap, and how desperate his sounds are, and how his skin feels under your palms.

It’s driving you mad, replaying that night over and over and craving even more from him.

It really isn’t just about the sex, though, either. You find yourself thinking of him at the grocery store, wondering if he likes the scent of your favorite deodorant or if you should pick something new. You see an old Ford Ranger as you’re driving to work and wonder if Frankie’s inside. You find a new show on Netflix to watch but pause it after the first five minutes because you think Frankie would like to watch it too, with you.

And Frankie’s just as bad, if not worse off than you are.

His days are long and busy but occupied with thoughts of you, even as he’s changing brake pads and tinkering elbow-deep in the hood of another car.

When he picks up his daughter from school and asks how her day was, he sends off a quick text to ask you about your day, too.

And after he gets her to bed, and finishes laundry and the dishes and brushing his teeth, he crawls under the covers only to feel like his queen sized mattress is way too big, way too empty.

That’s when he texts you, Saturday night, heart beating just a bit too fast and feeling a tad heavier than normal.

I miss you. Are you free tomorrow?

I miss you too, sweet boy. I’ve got nothing going on all day.

Can I pick you up for brunch after I drop off the kiddo? Around noon?

Sounds perfect, can’t wait 😘

And he hardly sleeps because of the anticipation, wondering if this whole thing has just been a fluke. One whole week of not seeing you has his insecurities skyrocketing, despite the texts and phone calls.

The clock on his bedside table reads 5:36am and he can’t for the life of him tamper down the feelings to fall back to sleep. So he trims up his facial hair, and showers for longer than he usually likes to. He makes a big breakfast for his daughter, and dresses in his nicest jeans and a collared shirt while she giggles at some Sunday morning cartoon.

It isn’t until he’s halfway to her mom’s house that he realizes he’s a dead giveaway. He winces when she answers the door with her eyebrow raised, greeting cut-off halfway through.

“Are you going to church now?”

He laughs and rolls his eyes as she waves him into the foyer.

“Not quite. I think church usually starts earlier than noon, though.”

“So… court?”

“Oh my god, is it that unbelievable that I have a date?”

“At noon?”

“Brunch date,” he shrugs, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“You haven’t dated since we broke up.”

He shrugs again, and can feel the heat beginning to rise to his cheeks.

“Is this new? Where’d you guys meet?”

He huffs at the interrogation, though he knows there’s no malice behind it.

“Um… Tinder… couple weeks ago now.”

An amused look spreads across his ex’s face, and he wants to die.

“Interesting. You’ve met in person, then?”

“Yeah, twice already. Last week.”

“Well, sounds like it’s going good then, yeah?”

He takes a deep breath in, and nods, and then shrugs.

“I hope so. Like… I really hope so.”

Her face softens, and she smiles a sweet smile that lets him know he looks even more vulnerable than he feels, which must be a feat.

“Then I hope so, too.”

——

When Frankie knocks on your door a little past 12, he surprises you. Gone is that apprehensive look you’ve grown so used to seeing on him. Instead, he’s beaming, a precious and pearly smile splitting his face when you open the door.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath, like he may have ran up the stairs at a less than leisurely pace.

“Hey, smiley.”

He huffs when you tease him, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Looks good on you.”

Everything looks good on him, actually. His shirt hugs his chest and his tummy, and his jeans are sucked tight to his thighs, and his hair is that perfect mess of haphazard curls that makes your fingers tingle with the urge to touch.

“You ready to go?”

He shifts in his spot on your doorway, and you bite your lip as you admire the view.

“Not yet.”

His mouth opens to respond, but the words don’t get a chance to leave his lips because you’re pressing your own to them.

Warm, soft, minty.

His hand finds your waist and yours cups his neatly groomed jaw, and the simple touches make the wires in your system short-circuit.

Simmer down, you remind yourself, you have to at least get through brunch.

His smile is still wide when you pull apart, softer now, but no less giddy. He gives you a once-over, taking in one of your favorite outfits you picked out of your closet just for today.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers.

“So are you.”

He shrugs, and you let your hand fall from his face to rest on his collar, and then farther down, where his top button lays open to reveal his smooth chest.

“Brunch?”

He squeezes your hip when he asks, and you try and fail to hold back a heaved sigh at the prospect of having to be decent in public with this man.

“Yep. Brunch.”

He chuckles, kisses the corner of your mouth as soft as ever.

“Back here for dessert?”

It shocks you, but it delights you.

“Francisco, you dirty dog.”

He backs away with his hands up as you make your way outside, letting you lock up.

“I’m just trying to ask for what I want,” he mumbles.

He looks sheepish when you turn back to face him, but also proud. You think he should be.

“I know. You’re being a very good boy for me.”

You smirk all the way to his truck at the way he tugs at his collar and clears his throat, and how his hand feels sweaty in yours.

——

He takes you to brunch by the river, a place you’ve heard about but you’ve never been to. He’s really sweet, opening doors for you and asking if the table on the patio is alright and turning his entire attention toward you while you wait for your food to come.

Though you’re both quite handsy, linking your calves together under the table and playing with each others’ fingers on top of it, you really don’t want to go home by the time the check comes.

He pays this time, of course, and when you’re standing up to leave you suggest taking a walk along the river. His enthusiasm for your suggestion makes your insides feel all sticky and hot, that you’re both on the same page, that even something so little can excite him like it does you.

The thing is, you don’t do this often. Okay, maybe you’ve had many dates that end up exactly like this, walking off a meal and chatting. But it’s very very rare that you get to do it with someone you click with, someone who gets you, someone who makes you feel comfortable in your own skin.

Frankie does just that, has since day one when you spent hours talking on that godforsaken dating app. And especially now, as he slinks one arm through the loop of your own and uses the other to caress where your sleeve rides up your bicep. His body is warm where it presses into you, only adding to that fuzzy feeling from the couple of mimosas you drank with brunch.

And when you turn to face him, the happy look on his face is everything. You get tripped up in the sunlight glistening in his brown eyes, the hints of ochre sparkling as his head shifts, before you determine you need to tell him.

“I like the way I feel with you,” you say earnestly, though the champagne has surely given you a bit of a push.

“What way is that?”

His pace slows on the little pebbled pathway, like he really doesn’t want to miss what you say next.

“Like I can just… turn my brain off and be.”

He chuckles, squeezes your arm.

“I feel the same. Like I don’t have to pretend to impress you or anything. Like I don’t need to impress you.”

You hum as you let the words sink in, and lean a little heavier into him as you walk.

“You do impress me though,” you tell him.

His breath hitches, you can feel it where he’s pressing into you from chest to hip.

“You impress me too. I uh— I think you’re probably the most impressive person I’ve ever met.”

“Weren’t you like, in the military?”

He laughs, then, full, you can feel it shaking his tummy against your arm.

“That doesn’t really count. Besides, my military buddies’ skills are limited to the field. I don’t think between the three of them they have more than a handful of civilian brain cells.”

“Harsh,” you laugh, pinching his side between your knuckles.

“I say it with love, of course. They’re good guys, you’d like ‘em. In a way you might like an annoying sibling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like you to meet them sometime. Maybe soon. If you’d feel comfortable.”

You don’t know much about this infamous group of guys Frankie’s bonded to, just that they’re his only real friends, and that they’ve all been through a lot. Another gooey feeling spreads through your guts at his proposal.

“I’d like that. Sometime soon.”

It does worry you a bit. You don’t know much about the military, but you’re aware of the stereotypes. Surely if Frankie’s friends with them, then they aren’t bad guys.

Frankie must see the fleck of apprehension in you,

Because he stops walking and releases your arm so he can face you squarely.

“I’m out to them. They’re cool with it. Pope— Santiago— he’s queer too. We’ve been to pride together, all of us. No bad vibes.”

You wonder if they’ve ever met someone like you. You wonder if Frankie’s told them about you yet. You wonder a lot of things in such a tiny amount of time that you sway a bit on your feet and Frankie reaches out to steady you.

“Shit— Are you okay??”

“I’m fine,” you’re quick to assure him, “just… I dunno. What if they don’t like me?”

Frankie scoffs.

“There’s no way they won’t like you. You’re you, you’re kind and funny and smart. What’s not to like?”

“Are you purposefully ignoring the elephant in the room?”

It isn’t heated, the way you ask it, but you’re genuinely curious. Is he beating around the bush, or is he naive, or is it really not a big deal to him?

“Cariño, it’s not an elephant. It’s a— I dunno. A neat… plant,” he shrugs.

You squint at him, and tilt your head at his explanation.

“You know what I mean? An elephant in a room is a giant pain in the ass. It’s much more like a cool plant. Maybe one some people aren’t familiar with, but it’s not— you’re not an elephant, is my point.”

You stare at him for a beat longer than you mean to, but once your giggle involuntarily bubbles up out of you, Frankie’s serious face is cracking into a goofy smile.

“You’re cute,” you tell him, “Jesus Christ.”

Your laughter mellows, and Frankie looks sheepish at your compliments, but he grabs you by the elbows anyway, leans in close to you so that you can smell the way the sun warms his curls and his skin.

“I mean it though,” he says, “I like you. Exactly how you are. The guys will too.”

Your eyes dart around to your surroundings as Frankie’s lips find your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Without anyone ogling, you shift your head just that much more to let his lips press against yours.

He hums, leaning harder into you, pulling you closer with his hands at your back. You melt, pliant and lax in his arms, until he huffs and pulls away.

“Frankie,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to take me home.”

His pupils grow comically large at your request, and this time he’s wobbling on weary legs.

“Anything you want, mi planta.”

Your walk back to his truck is… brisk. You’re not sure who’s leading who by the time

Frankie unlocks the doors, both too giggly to really worry about it. He kisses you breathless across the center console before he turns the key in the ignition, and you roll the flavor of him around in your mouth while he pulls out into traffic.

Frankie’s promise of ‘I like you exactly the way you are’ is rattling around in your head like a pinball in a faulty machine. You’re not sure he can even say that. If he even knows you exactly the way you are. It’s been two dates and a handful of weeks texting back and forth.

Granted, one of those dates had him shaking and crumbling on top of you, but still. He told you he’s never met someone like you. He said that, and now you have to pull the ‘Ol Talk out of your dusty little hat and you aren’t sure how he’s going to react. He’s given you no reason to believe it’ll be negative, but still. Sometimes it just makes you uncomfortable, to have to explain things that don’t often need explaining.

Instead of boiling over with nerves the closer you get, though, the anxiety simmers below the surface as you watch Frankie navigate back to your apartment. His side profile is criminal, with his wide eyes and strong nose and stubbly jaw, that dimple that just won’t seem to go away. His curls tickle the nape of his neck and whisp around his temple and you must twirl them between your fingers. So you do, and his answering hum has you squirming in the passenger seat.

The walk up your apartment stairs is when the nerves start to get the best of you. It takes you two tries to get your door unlocked, and you know Frankie is aware by the way he looks at you when you usher him through the door.

“Are you okay?”

It’s funny how just a week before you were asking him the same question, and now you’re the one who’s a bundle of frayed nerves when you’d only ever been so cool and calm and collected.

“I am, I just— Things are different… with me.”

His concerned brows turn back up when he smiles at you, the softness in his eyes working wonders to ease your anxiety.

“I like different. Different’s fun.”

You huff. He’s so sweet. It’s hotter than it should be.

“Really. I wanna learn you. Let me, cariño. Please?”

And god… those are gonna be a big, big problem, his wide, watery puppy eyes framed by long eyelashes that he breaks out like it’s no big deal. Like you wouldn’t murder someone for him if he made those eyes at you and asked nicely.

You sigh, and nod, and that gets him to drop the eyes at least, replace them with a toothy smile instead.

“Let me get us some waters, if you wanna get comfy on the couch.”

It gives you a second to breathe and gather your thoughts as you meander into the kitchen.

“I missed this couch,” he muses, wistful, and you laugh.

“I’m sure you did, Pretty Boy.”

You barely hear his huff over the trickle of your Brita filter, but then he speaks up.

“I love it when you call me that. Drives me crazy.”

Frankie’s full of this energy you didn’t expect from him, so much more forward now. You suppose the walls have been broken down a bit, ever since your last night together.

He’s sprawled out on the couch when you return with two glasses, leaning back against the corner of it, and his cock is straining at his jeans. You don’t pretend not to notice, and he doesn’t pretend that he can’t see your eyes tracing the shape of its outline in his dark denim. You place your waters on the coffee table, even as you feel your mouth go dry.

“Told you, drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

The way he looks up at you makes him look so small. Your pulse jumps about it, the way it makes you feel just minutely more comfortable with the conversation you’re about to have.

And it’s one that you want to have, no matter how un-sexy it feels, or annoying. Because in your experience, when you forgo the conversation until after, they always take it personally when you tell them what you didn’t like. And even though you know it’s bullshit, you can’t stand the thought of Frankie feeling defensive toward you, even if it’s unfounded.

So you curl up next to him, let his arm that’s slung over the couch rest across your shoulders. You bring your knees up to your chest and plant one hand high on his thigh. You’re so nervous that you almost miss the way it twitches under your palm.

“What’s on your mind?”

His thumb rubs tiny loops against your shoulder. Yours mirrors it on his jeans, and it soothes you enough to start speaking.

“Sometimes I don’t like… certain things. During sex. And sometimes I do. It just depends on my mood,” you start.

“Yeah, same. I think that’s everyone, right? Normal?”

You roll your eyes at yourself, because you know he has a point. But yours are a little different.

“Yeah but… You know how I said sometimes I’m both, and sometimes I’m neither, and sometimes I’m one or the other?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do.”

“Welll when I’m… y’know. Sometimes certain words just… turn me off. Make me feel weird, and get in my head and stuff, and then it’s not fun anymore.”

Frankie nods.

“And not like… What I mean is sometimes I like one word, and then another time I won’t like the same word. It’s always different. Depending on what I’m feeling.”

“Guapo, look at me.”

It’s then, when Frankie’s deep voice cuts like a searing hot knife, that you realize your eyes have been darting around everywhere but him.

He’s got a serious look on his face when you finally gaze back, but it’s soft, and it’s comforting, and for a second you think might cry.

“I think it’s my turn to make you ask for what you want.”

He smirks when he says it, and it’s so uneasy and so not at the same time.

You take a deep breath. Release it. Feel the squeeze of your heart unclench a bit.

“I want you to suck my cock. Today. And tomorrow maybe I’ll want you to eat my pussy. Okay?”

“Jesus Fuck—“

“I’m sorry—“

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and make your face feel like it’s on fire. Even more so when his free hand presses against his erection over his jeans. It spreads, a dangerous flame that curls around your insides, high in your chest and low in your gut, and you tilt your head so you can taste the little whimper that falls from his lips.

Your hand finds his chest again, like it did that night, and something about his racing heartbeat eases you so much. That he’s just as nervous as you are, even if he’s a bit better at hiding it this time.

He cradles you when he kisses you back, one big, warm hand on the back of your head and his other on your back, wrapped around you, safe. And he’s gentle as he leads you to lie back, even as he growls and nips at your bottom lip.

Safe.

His thighs bracket one of yours as he holds himself above you by an elbow on the cushions. You feel his cock, hot and hard, pressed tight against you, throbbing when he shifts his hips for friction.

You let a noise sneak past your vocal chords, a deeper sigh, and instantly you feel even more vulnerable.

But Frankie just returns it, grip tightening on the back of your head. He pulls his mouth from yours and instead finds your pulse with it.

You gasp, and he curses. His hips jerk against you, and you know you’re about to soak through your briefs. His teeth find skin underneath your collar and you egg him on by lifting your thigh to press even tighter against his prick.

His muttered curse feels hot against your skin, but it quickly runs ice cold when Frankie’s hand sneaks under the hem of your shirt. You grab it quickly, separated by the material, and shake your head back and forth quickly.

“Not right now,” you whisper, “sorry.”

He looks up from his toothy assault on your skin to meet your gaze, hand slipping back out from under your shirt, and smiles.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, hand finding the crook of your thigh instead, “never for that. Always tell me what you need.”

Your breath stutters as he shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his thigh pressing just right between yours as his tongue tastes the roof of your mouth. You grind just like that, and he does too, a hot and damp rustling of fabric as he takes your mouth and whines into it at the friction.

Your hands get with the program, reach around to squeeze his ass and encourage his thrusts against your thigh. Sparks of arousal shoot through you every time you feel his cock pulse against you. It becomes not enough extremely quickly, especially with the noises you’re coaxing out of him and the way his tongue is sloppy and greedy inside your mouth.

“I need your mouth,” you gasp, your slick lips moving against his own as you speak.

He groans, licks at your bottom lip one last time.

“Anything you want.”

You’re hot, flustered and aching when he finally works on unfastening your pants. All the while his wide doe eyes peer up at you, waiting for any direction.

He shuffles a bit, settling between your open legs and huffing when he misses the pressure of your thigh against his prick. You thread your fingers through his curls as consolation, and smirk when he shudders and his eyelids droop.

He gets a hand under your pants, and both of your mouths drop open at the contact to the warmth between your thighs.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he sighs, “please let me taste you.”

His voice is gravelly, sends a wave of tingles up your spine as you grind down into his hand and tighten your grip on his hair. His fingers twitch against you as he gasps and pulls against your hold on his locks, and it’s fucking wicked.

Your curse and tug him by the hair to bury his face between your legs. You feel his nose squish against you first, then his lips, a hot breath of air released against you. He groans into you, inhales a deep breath, and you see his hips work frantically against the couch cushion underneath him.

“Frankie.”

He opens his eyes, but doesn’t dare pull his face away from your center.

“Take ‘em off,” you order.

He nods, face still pressed against you, like he’s nuzzling your package, and you have to tug his hair to urge him to get a move on.

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck— can’t help it.”

His fingers tremble, just barely, but noticeable nonetheless, as he hooks them under your briefs. One last look up at you, and you nod and tug at his curls, and then he finally pulls the damned things down your legs and off.

At this point, you don’t have enough wits about you to be shy. You spread your legs, one against the back of the couch, the other dangling off at the knee so your foot touches the floor. The air in your apartment is cool where you’re wet and slick, and your hips wiggle in anticipation.

All the while, Frankie stares at your center, just inches above you, so close you can feel his ragged breaths with every heave of his chest. He’s a fucking vision like this, between your legs, needy and ready to do what you tell him.

“Can I—?”

“Suck my cock, Frankie. Wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around it.”

A stilted breath escapes him as he opens his mouth to press against you. Your hips jolt at the first touch of his tongue through your folds, hot and wet and perfect. He wastes no time following your direction, though, tongue flicking over your cock before he gets it into his mouth and suckles.

Fuck.

It’s so fucking good, he’s so fucking good. Your grip on his hair only gets tighter as you watch his hips grind against the couch in a frantic rhythm. He whines and sucks harder, just shy of too much, tongue circling around your dick in between delicious pulses of suction.

You want to close your eyes and succumb to the pleasure, but you don’t want to miss a moment of this. The way his brow is creased in concentration, his silky curls bobbing up and down in your lap, the fucking noises he makes. The slurps and the grunts and the hums, like he’s getting just as much out of it as you are.

You suppose he is, the way he’s humping the sofa like he’s in heat.

His eyes flicker up to you, a silent question.

Is this doing it for you?

“So fucking good, Frankie. Just like that,” you tell him, fingers dragging through his hair, nails scraping at his scalp.

His eyes close as he hums around you, and yours do too, then, overwhelmed by the feeling. Your hips rock up into his face, fucking it, using him. His grip tightens on your thighs, and your body rocks from the from the way he’s grinding against the couch.

His tongue is wicked and precise, circling your cock, flicking it, circling then flicking, again and again and it makes your whole body buzz, has you out of your fucking mind.

And you suppose that’s why the words just fall from your lips; there’s no filter left, just raw, overwhelmed senses and adrenaline.

“Fuck, good boy Frankie. Letting me fuck your face, like the perfect little toy.”

“Hah— shit,” he whines, hips stuttering between your legs just for a moment as his lips lose their grasp on your dick.

“Prettiest mouth, all for me, right?”

You watch him as he looks up at you and nods, mouth hung open, his tongue sliding up and down your slit at the quick motion. He looks a mess, with his mustache glistening and his pupils huge and dark and his hair sticking up every which way. His eyelids droop and his brows draw up tight and he looks so so perfect between your legs.

With another pathetic noise, he sucks your cock between his lips again. You take mercy on his hair, let your hand find the back of his neck and cradle, massage the tense muscles under your fingertips. You feel him shudder against you, watch as his hips speed up in time with the bobbing of his head between your thighs.

And it’s building, blazing through your system, fiery static that has you breathing quicker, arching your back as your muscles tense.

Frankie’s noises only press you closer and closer to the edge, the way they’re muffled around your prick in his mouth, the way he’s clutching onto your hip and fucking your couch cushion as he slurps and suckles. It’s soaking wet and hot and much better than you’ve felt in a very long time.

“So close, don’t stop,” you beg.

Frankie’s answering noise is strung-out and his grip is bruising on your hip. You lift your hips into his mouth and your hand finds his hair again. You tug and encourage him to suck you off faster, just a bit, just enough.

You cry out his name as you shake. You hope the grip you’ve taken on his hair isn’t too tight, but none of your movements are your own until all the tension leaves your body. He works you through it as his breath puffs faster and heavier against your mound, gradually suckling softer, bobbing his head slower and slower while he groans around you.

Slowly, your muscles relax and your tendons unclench and your eyes open just in time to watch Frankie press a kiss to your swollen, twitching bud.

“Jesus,” you manage through a breath.

His grin is shy as he rests his cheek on your thigh. He strokes you through your comedown, quiet and calm, his fingertips soothing your thigh and your hip.

“How was that?”

You laugh at his question, and he hides his own chuckles in the crease of your hip.

“Incredible.”

He hums, and you ruffle his hair when his gaze turns sheepish.

“What do you need, Pretty Boy?”

He’s flushed, and his curls are a little damp at his temples as he shakes his head.

“I don’t need anything, Guapo.”

You try to muster up as stern a look as you can with your brain still fuzzy and your muscles still lax and gooey. His big brown eyes look up at you, pleading, and his shy look turns embarrassed.

Instead of speaking, he grunts as he sits back on his knees. You take note of the way his teeth scrape his bottom lip before you follow his eyeline, down his still heaving chest and belly.

You try not to let your eyes widen when you see the substantial damp patch soaked through his denim, but you must not have been subtle, because he makes a high, cut-off noise from the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” he says with a grimace.

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot,” you chirp.

Those little dimples you’ve come to adore rear their heads even as he shakes his.

You sit up to press a kiss to one, then the other, and then his lips. You savor the heady taste of yourself on them, hum happily into his mouth as his trembling fingers stroke your skin.

You both change into comfier clothes. The sight of him wrapped up in your things has a whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc in your chest. Something primal and something domestic all at the same time, and you have to tug him close in your grasp to tamper it all down to a manageable level.

His body weight tucked half into your side, half on top of you works wonders to calm you, especially as your hand finds his silky curls once more and you feel each strand slip through your fingers.

Frankie sighs, big and heavy, and it tickles your neck.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Thinking it’s kinda crazy, being so into someone I met a month ago.”

Your pulse jumps at his words. You wonder if he can feel it where he’s pressed against you.

“Yeah, kinda crazy,” you agree.

“Feels stupid.”

His curls brush against your face when he shakes his head, huffs again, but you hear the smile in his voice.

“Life’s kinda stupid.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

You chuckle at him as you watch his fingers tap an incoherent rhythm on your stomach.

“Seems fair, doesn’t it? To lean into the stupid when you get the chance?”

He turns to you then, a soft smile crinkling the edges of his wide eyes.

“Sounds fair to me,” he mumbles.

last part / next part

#x reader #sub! frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #nb reader #gender-fluid reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fanfiction

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thekidonherownn · 10 months ago

Text

I hate you for what you did (and I miss you like a little kid)- post tlo percabeth oneshot

The night of August 18th, camp half-blood was quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. So quiet that it was scary, unsettling even: ‘cause camp never was and never had been quiet in the slightest, not until the night of August 18th, at least.

The campers and so the nymphs and dryads, even the birds up in the trees were silent, for one night only they all stood still: the adrenaline and hysteria from the victory of the battle of Manhattan was fading away, leaving behind only destruction, grief and loss.

Endless bunk beds remained empty, out of owners; the Apollo cabin was sad to look at: not a glowing ray of sunshine anymore: just dark and hollow. Nearly empty. Everyone understood that those missing souls deserved a little peace and quiet…even the chirping birds.

After the faint celebrations and laughs, after Clarisse and the others threw them in the lake, calm had settled…and that unescapable air of death had dawned onto the whole hill, brought by the night.

Annabeth was quiet too, laying still in her spot, her hair and clothes wet from the dunk in the lake, her lips salty from the kiss. Awake and mute: much like everyone else.

She’d dreamed of this night since the very first time she held her dagger: the time she was going to win, the one where she would get all the glory she deserved. Annabeth licked her lips again, balancing herself off the fact that they tasted like Percy’s…she got all the glory she wanted; she was a hero, she was a savior. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this moment, no fantasy of her child self could ever give her this emotion: Annabeth didn’t feel like a hero was supposed to, no, Annabeth felt like a murderer. She rubbed her palms on the sides of her shorts, still sensing the warm red blood that had stained them the same morning.

Luke’s blood. Luke’s blood all over Olympus, all over her clothes, all over her hands. She couldn’t seem to let go of the feeling of it, in the faint light of cabin six she could see they were clean and pristine, though it wasn’t enough. Annabeth wondered if she would feel it on her palms forever, if she would have to rip away her skin because of it.

She wondered if Percy felt it too. The blood on his hands. If he could see it splashed on the ground every time he closed his eyes. She ran her hands through her curls, trying to shake off the shivers that were running over her body: probably because she was soaking wet and hadn’t bothered changing into dry clothes, though Annabeth wasn’t sure that was the only reason.

He did it himself, Luke killed himself, she kept thinking, while asking herself if that really was the only possible option, after all. Maybe she could’ve saved him, maybe if she’d agreed to join him he would be well and alive now. No, you couldn’t- her own mind retorted to her thoughts, she tasted Percy’s lips again and shut her eyes close.

If she’d loved Luke like he wanted, maybe everyone would still be here…Annabeth’s brain reeled non-stop, endless scenarios started playing in her head; but the salt on her lips got stronger by the second, invading her own mind, Percy calming her with his memory.

It only had been a few hours since that underwater kiss, still she wanted more, Annabeth longed for the stinging salt on her lips: it almost made her forget about the burning sensation on her palms. As she put on her yankees cap and sprinted down to cabin 3, not a lot went through her head but the fact that she so desperately needed something to remind her that loving was worth it, that it didn’t always end up with blood stained blades.

The cabin’s front door easily opened, startling Percy in the process, who wasn’t asleep, like the rest of the campers. He sprinted to his feet, riptide in hand and eyes wide open, when he spot her standing she could see every piece of his body relax, he started whispering: “you-”

Annabeth, not wanting to break camp’s silence just yet, cupped both sides of his face and kissed him, quickly, a little awkwardly maybe…they still hadn’t discussed what they’re relationship was at, but their lips meeting again seemed right, even if it was shy and short, it was better than anything they’d ever felt before.

When she pulled away, their cheeks were flushed, it took Percy a few seconds to finish what he was saying: “...scared me, you scared me bad” his words were as low as possible, a little smile started growing on his lips.

“I’m sorry” was all she replied with, making herself at home and plopping her cap on the nightstand, "I'm sorry" she muttered again, more to herself this time, while tasting more salt on her lips. "I- " she tried to put it into words, and Percy said it for her:

"I know" he wore deep dark circles because of the insomnia and he kept his voice just a low breath, she knew he was trying to help out, but it somehow managed to make her even more anxious: she didn't want him to know. She'd hoped he wouldn't understand.

Percy put a firm hand on top of her shoulder, Annabeth noticed just now that she was still shivering from the cold and exhaustion, “do you want to um-” Percy sighed, preparing himself for what he was about to say:

“do you want to lay down?”

Those words hung up in the air for a few seconds too much, Annabeth had never been in cabin 3 this late at night, and even though technically they weren’t dating, it felt more than two best friends laying next to each other on a mattress…if you consider that the best friends in question enjoy kissing from time to time.

It was something they’d never done before, but just like the kissing part, it felt okay, it felt right. Annabeth didn’t say anything as she quietly plopped onto the right side of his bunk bed, he followed a moment later and laid next to her, pulled close by the small bed, their faces facing the ceiling.

She quickly discovered that the beds in cabin 3 were more comfortable than the ones in 6, laying on them was like being lulled by the warm waves of the night, whereas in the Athena cabin the bunks were lazily pressed to the walls, with hard and narrow mattresses…her mother’s message was clear: sleeping isn’t important.

His side pressed onto hers to fit on the bed, Percy’s body stiffened in awkwardness, but then quickly noticed that Annabeth wasn’t even noticing the closeness, she seemed to be on the lookout for something he couldn’t see, distracted by visions, she was rubbing her palms on her jeans as if her hands were really, really itchy.

With little thought, Percy grabbed her wrist, “don’t do that” he stated, his voice wasn’t mad, just concerned: her skin had a reddish color and looked irritated by the constant stress she was putting it in. Pushing through the embarrassment, he squeezed the hand in his, just to stop her from hurting it, Annabeth’s brain cleared out from the fog at his touch, she opened her mouth and quickly closed it again, realizing she didn’t have much to say. The silence was nice enough, why ruin it?

Percy might have thought the same, because they stayed quiet, the only sounds being the ones of their breaths itching close, him fidgeting with the covers with his free hand, confused on why she’d burst in at night with no explanation but, on the more honest side, not caring that much about it. She’d kissed him for three times, all in the same day, it was a win even bigger than the one they had in the morning.

That was when Percy’s brain clicked: Morning. War. Win. Luke. Shit.

He felt his heart drop to his stomach. She watched Luke die that morning, of course she was acting weird. Of course she couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t, of course he hadn’t thought about it because he was too busy noticing their arms slightly touching. Before he could even begin to figure out what to say, Annabeth talked for the first time in 30 minutes:

“I didn’t love him” she clarified, out loud, as if to get that out of the way: as if her bursting in and kissing him on the spot wasn’t enough. Annabeth shut her eyes, embarrassed by her own words, by her feelings, “but until he was alive some deep small part of me thought-” her voice quivered, she tightened her eyes shut trying to keep the tears in, Percy finally let go of their barrier and reached out to hug her close, she let him do it and pressed her face in the crook of his neck, silent tears started falling on his shirt, “I thought he could change” she mumbled, he whispered in her ear: “he did change” but Annabeth shook her head “he changed too late” her voice was becoming resentful, angry.

“I hate him so much, Percy” she sightly pulled away from his embrace, meeting his eyes and wiping away some tears, “I really do, but-” a deep sigh, “-but I also miss him” she covered her face with both her palms, trying to wipe away the sadness “I miss him more than I would like to, and there’s nothing I can do about it”

“but I don’t love him” she re-stated, Percy unconsciously took a sigh of relief, not really helping it, “that’s okay” he muttered, picking her hand once again, with their faces itching closer, she looked down at her tangled fingers…this wasn’t like her, going on talking about her issues and troubles: but this night, the night of August 18th, it was too much to bottle inside, she’d felt his death hover her, forbidding her to sleep.

Silence fell over them once again, Percy stared at her, the only light being the blue hue coming from the water fountain, her hair was still damp and she still had that warrior aura that had came over her that morning during battle…come to think of it, Annabeth always had it around her, to him, she was like one of those greek princesses that traveled with a dagger beneath their gown, only she wore it proudly on her belt; Percy’s throat dried up at the sight of her, from the fact that he could actually feel their hearts synchronize because of their closeness, he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to push away the nervousness.

Annabeth kept fidgeting with his hand, in her own way, she was avoiding his eyes, so he knew she must’ve been nervous too, feeling more secure of herself, lighter from the earlier confessions, she asked, out of the blue: “are we dating?” he wasn’t expecting her to ask, but instantly replied, with no hesitation whatsoever: “I hoped so” his tone was more fragile than Percy wanted it to be, he felt her squeeze his hand tighter, “good” she mumbled, a small smile appearing on her lips, the first of the night: “I think-” she got closer to look at him better and he mirrored her, finally meeting her yes, “-I think that’s the only thing I’m sure of right now” Annabeth finished, not letting go of his hand, her palms still red and scratched: only now she’d stopped sensing the blood on them.

Percy stopped in his tracks, thinking that it was a good place to start: being sure of what they were to each other after years of pining, they both stared into each other's eyes for a rough minute, Percy’s gaze casually slipping down to her lips eventually, Annabeth cleaned her throat after a while, “can I…can I spend the night?” she asked, trying to break through the quiet, he answered on the spot: “of course” he said, beginning to get up from his spot, “I can sleep on the other-” “Percy” she cut him off, her hand still grasping his, pulling him to her.

“oh. oh, of course” Percy mumbled under his breath, a deep blush spreading all over his face as he re-adjusted himself next to her, “I think we can sleep together” she went on, showing an amused grin at his reaction, “It’s not like we haven’t done it before” she whispered, draping an arm over him, sinking deeper into the covers, “we’re still best friends, after all”

Percy felt his chest warm at her words, when she finally laid her lips back on his, it was better than he could ever expect it to be: the awkwardness had melted away and the kiss was slow and laid back, when he pulled away he was more red than before, if that was even possible.

“best friends don’t do that” he mumbled under his breath, not breaking eye contact, Annabeth’s smile got wider “we do” she declared, Percy kissed her again, she pulled away almost laughing out of happiness, which to him felt like biggest win of all: considering how upset she’d come in, “thank you” she said, “for being there, you know” Annabeth’s face heated up, he kissed the top of the hand he was holding, “we’re best friends, after all”

She rolled her eyes at the mimicking, secretly flattered by his ability to remember every single one of her words, he went on: “we’ll get through this war” he sighed, “or better, the ending of this war” she hugged him and finished: “hopefully this time they’ll leave us alone”

Something tingled at the back of Percy’s brain, deep down, he knew that wouldn’t have been the case, they both did. But this wasn't the time to worry about it, they needed their time to heal: the new prophecy had to wait. He took a final deep sigh before drifting off to sleep: “hopefully”.

#percyjacksonposts #percabeth #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the last olympian #percabeth fanfic #percabeth ao3 #percy x annabeth #percabeth oneshots #thekidonherown

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ryker-writes · 1 year ago

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Hi hi Ryker! First off; congrats on the milestone! Also make sure you give yourself some breaks, drink plenty of water, and touch some grass.

~ The information ~

Name: Dove (feeling silly, wanted to include it)

Likes: Autumn (weather, atmosphere, food, clothing), cats, sharks, crocodilians, snakes, antiques/vintage items (I have a few), cleaning, the colour green, funky earrings, cursive handwriting, bodies of water, old-growth forests, bumble bees, chunky knit blankets, the smell of cinnamon, candles, fossils/cool rocks in general, comfy clothes BUT they're also professional, queer culture.

Dislikes: People who don't clean up after themselves in main living areas (I don't care if it's their bedroom, just pick up your stuff p l e a s e). Crowds. Putting my hands in water while washing dishes (sensory thing, I wear gloves). Yelling, sudden loud sounds in general actually. HEIGHTS, terrified of heights. Not having my work recognized (like chores, the effort I put into IRL tasks). Really hot & humid weather... and also winter. Oh, also I hate bigots.

Hobbies: Writing, reading, knitting, crocheting (new hobby right there), collecting (rocks, glass jars, pens, notebooks, cool knick-knacks, some cursed items in that they give people psychic damage), nature walks, swimming, making funky earrings, bugging moots on the internet, cleaning (just not my room x-x), cooking (average cook, but I enjoy it), tarot, learning about stuff (mainly nature related, but also art history and history in general), listening to music, singing, dancing

Physical & Personality Preferences: I don't care about physical appearance, as long as they are happy in their own skin and being themself, that is enough. As for personality? Someone honest, as I have a hard time detecting lies. Comfortable being wholly themself and taking up space. Who is both comfortable giving and receiving support.

Love Languages: I tend to give quality time, acts of service, and parallel play. Receiving? Quality time & parallel play (physical touch is iffy, but probably in there as well)

Other Fun Stuff IG:

I'm 166 cm tall (in case there's a height difference).

A chronic older sibling who forgets to reach out for help/support (I'm working on it).

My aesthetic or vibe has been described as cottage-core, and you know what, I'll take it. I dress more dark academia, splashed in with some art hoe though ^v^

I know my entire natal chart, but I'll just share my big 3; Cancer Sun, Scorpio Moon (Moon in 12th House), Scorpio Rising (Mars & Pluto in 1st House)

Personality: I tend to be honest to a fault, and blunt; I like getting to the point and making sure that I am understood. At first, I'm friendly and a bit aloof when getting to know people, but I become warmer as I get comfortable with people and can chat your ear off if you allow me to infodump about a shared interest (I once spent a 2-hour bus ride talking non-stop about Pleistocene mammals). I have been called an encyclopedia with the amount of stuff I know and IDK why my brain remembers the stuff it does. (based on my IRL personality)

Hopefully, that's enough information... or at least not too overwhelming ^v^ Take your time Ryker!!!

Thank you so much Dove! I'm trying to pace myself with these requests and take care of myself so don't worry! I hope you don't mind but I'm going to casually ignore the natal chart thing because I don't know anything about that (and honestly I'm scared to learn)

"Dove! I'm so wonderful you decided to come in for this! I'm also glad to learn more about you, and I feel I know exactly who to put with you. You have a lot of variety in your likes and hobbies, and that's a great trait! I only felt it natural to pair you with someone who also has some variety and can appreciate it all!

A great appreciator of all types of things...sounds a lot like Rook right?"

It takes a certain type of person to be with Rook, and somehow I get the vibes that you can do it! He's a wild one, but somehow I think that works with you.

pls Rook loves everything you do

he tries to find beauty in everything, and you help with that!

anything you make is absolutely beautiful and he loves it and shows it off with pride

he even goes into extensive detail about the little things he likes about each piece

he adds to your collections whenever he sees a new piece you don't have ✨

he calls you "ma petite colombe" (my little dove)

quality time and parallel play? Rook has you covered

he loves to be near you and doing your own things and he will often glance over at you and admire your beauty

cottage core or dark academia, he loves you no matter your aesthetic and thinks all of them are equally appealing with you

you don't have to reach out for support from him, he has a sixth sense for you when you need support

pls infodump on him he welcomes it and will remember everything you tell him

you two are like wild cards of information who love to share with each other and I can see you two just rambling about something random for hours without stopping

I see a duo of chaos and love

#sees happy in their own skin and comfortable with being themselves and frantically scribbles azul off my list #idia too for that matter #ryker the matchmaker #twisted wonderland matchups

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emergent62 · 3 days ago

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The Post-Holiday Blues: A Personal Journey

As I sit here, wrapped in my favorite blanket and nursing a cup of chamomile tea, I can’t help but reflect on the whirlwind of emotions that always seem to follow the holiday season. If you’re anything like me, you might be feeling a mix of relief that the festivities are over and a touch of sadness that the magic has faded. Trust me, I’ve been there – post-holiday burnout is real, and it’s something I’ve grappled with year after year.

I remember last year vividly. After weeks of non-stop shopping, cooking, and socializing, I found myself slumped on the couch on January 2nd, surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and half-eaten leftovers. The house felt eerily quiet, and a wave of exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. That’s when I realized I needed to take action and prioritize my mental health.

Recognizing the Signs of Post-Holiday Burnout

Before we dive into the self-care strategies that have been my saving grace, let’s talk about what post-holiday burnout actually looks like. For me, it manifests as:

Feeling physically and emotionally drained

Difficulty concentrating or making decisions

Irritability and mood swings

A sense of emptiness or lack of purpose

Disrupted sleep patterns

Sound familiar? If you’re nodding along, don’t worry – you’re not alone, and there are ways to bounce back.

Self-Care Routines for Post-Holiday Recovery

1. Embrace the Power of Rest

After the holiday hustle, I’ve learned that rest isn’t just a luxury – it’s a necessity. I make it a point to carve out dedicated time for sleep and relaxation. This might mean going to bed an hour earlier or indulging in a midday nap without guilt. Remember, your body and mind need time to recharge after all that festive energy

2. Nourish Your Body

I’ll be the first to admit that my eating habits go out the window during the holidays. To combat this, I focus on getting back to nourishing, whole foods. I stock up on fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins, and I make sure to stay hydrated. It’s amazing how much better I feel when I fuel my body properly

3. Move Your Body Gently

While I’m not one for intense workouts right after the holidays, I’ve found that gentle movement works wonders for my mood. A leisurely walk in nature, some light stretching, or a relaxing yoga session can help shake off that post-holiday sluggishness and boost those feel-good endorphins

4. Practice Mindfulness and Gratitude

One of the most powerful tools in my post-holiday recovery kit is mindfulness. I take a few minutes each day to meditate or simply focus on my breath. Additionally, I’ve started a gratitude practice where I jot down three things I’m thankful for each day. It helps shift my perspective from what I’ve lost (the holiday cheer) to what I still have

5. Declutter and Organize

There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tidying up after the chaos of the holidays. I set aside a day to declutter my space, put away decorations, and organize my surroundings. A clean, organized environment helps clear my mind and gives me a sense of a fresh start

6. Connect Authentically

While I love the social aspect of the holidays, I often find myself craving more meaningful connections afterward. I make it a point to reach out to close friends or family members for heart-to-heart conversations. Sometimes, a genuine chat over coffee can be more rejuvenating than any party

7. Set Realistic Goals

As the new year begins, I used to fall into the trap of setting grandiose resolutions. Now, I focus on setting small, achievable goals that give me a sense of purpose without overwhelming me. It might be as simple as reading a book a month or trying a new recipe each week

8. Limit Screen Time

After weeks of holiday movies and endless scrolling through social media, I find that a digital detox does wonders for my mental health. I set boundaries around my screen time, opting for offline activities like reading, crafting, or spending time in nature

9. Indulge in Small Pleasures

I’ve learned that self-care doesn’t have to be elaborate. Sometimes, it’s the small indulgences that make the biggest difference. For me, it might be taking a long bubble bath, lighting my favorite scented candle, or curling up with a good book. These little moments of joy can be incredibly restorative

10. Seek Support If Needed

Finally, I want to emphasize that it’s okay to ask for help if you’re struggling. Whether it’s talking to a trusted friend, joining a support group, or seeking professional help, reaching out is a sign of strength, not weakness

Embracing a Gentle Transition

As I’ve navigated post-holiday burnout over the years, I’ve come to appreciate this time as a period of gentle transition. It’s an opportunity to reflect on the past year, reset our intentions, and move forward with renewed energy and purpose. Remember, self-care isn’t selfish – it’s essential. By taking care of ourselves, we’re better equipped to face the challenges and joys that the new year brings. So, as you navigate your own post-holiday journey, be kind to yourself. Take it one day at a time, and know that with a little self-care and patience, you’ll soon be feeling refreshed and ready to embrace all that lies ahead. Here’s to a year of growth, self-discovery, and well-deserved moments of peace. You’ve got this, and remember – I’m right there with you, taking it one cup of tea at a time.

#trauma #anxitey #teen counseling #emdr therapy #couples therapy

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ipodtouchtouchtouch · 1 year ago

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They both gave the energy that i had scared them. as if i were the odd one out in my own bed. i wondered if my roommates could hear the shrieking. its so weird because i felt like i was thinking pretty rational non dream thoughts. it all felt so real, especially when i touched that person in my bed and it really felt like i had rolled over and nearly bumped in to them . so startling. then i woke up actually. but i could not move. i was laying on my back and my mouth was open. i wanted to call out but i couldnt make any sounds. i remembered the chakra crystal bowl sounds and wondered if i should be worried about my throat chakra. before falling asleep that night i had felt randomly scared of the left side of my bed and had actually moved my arm away from it out of what felt like weird irrational fear. i had also been on the left side of my bed during the awful shrieking dream. it felt like such a long time that i couldnt move but it couldnt have been more than a minute. while still frozen i glanced to the left side of my bed and there sat hunched over was this hooded figure with its back to me. i felt completely terrified. then just as i saw the thing i could move my body again. and it was gone. i sat up and grabbed my phone to check the time. it was 2:19 and it did happen to be stopped at the throat chakra vibration. this is a funny detail i think. and i really dont know what to make of it. i was though more scared than ive ever been in my life from a dream. i turned my bedside table lamp on and looked all around my room. i half expected to see something standing in the corner. i had so much adrenaline from the dream. i was awake for around 3 more hours after that. im so glad i didnt have to pee in that time because i was way too scared to leave my bed. the next day i slept until 12 and stayed in bed until 1:30 and i felt completely like shit. i have weeks worth of laundry, my room and house are a mess, im mentally trying to cope with having a small scale instagram scandal from the house show, and now i have to wrestle with the freaky visions id seen the night before. if im going to have sleep paralysis for the first time i wish i could at least be waking up in a clean room. lucky for me that tuesday is also the day jaqueline novak released her comedy special on netflix. my roommate lilia is probably in the top 50 maybe even top 20 jaqueline novak fans as she is a massive poog podcast lover. im friends with many poog lovers. it honestly makes me feel kind of guilty that ive not listened on my own. like 6 of our friends came over that night to hang out and watch the comedy special together. i told them all my harrowing sleep paralysis story live. everyone agreed it was extremely scary and everyone also agreed it had a lot to do with the stress from our house show the week prior. a few of our friends and lilia saged the apartment and chanted "only love and light exist". i lit palo santo. after that we watched the comedy special and it was very funny. I listened to the special from the kitchen so that i could work on my drawing at the same time. after everyone went home i stayed up drawing at the table. when i decided to go to bed i did feel quite scared. id been having anxiety about going to bed most of the night. i did though wash my face and brush my teeth. i also massged my neck and put on lotion and stretched. i should also add that i was trying to stay off my phone as well. im so addicted to my phone especially at bed time. i tried to meditate a little in bed but honestly i got too freaked out to keep my eyes closed like that. i put on this reading of alice in wonderland i found on spotify from a page called "the sleepy bookshelf". its some british lady with a very soothing voice telling you to relax and then reading the story. ive not yet made it past chapter one i always fall alseep so fast. this sleep was so peaceful compared to the night before. there is major power in bedtime ritual.

sleep paralysis and inviting negativity in

i experienced sleep paralysis for the first time. immediately after waking up from it i sent a voice message to my roommate and my girlfriend telling them what happened. i felt like id been attacked in the night, not like id woken up from a dream. dreaming is not so common for me since i smoke so much weed. but most of the dreams i do have are nightmares. i think those just stick out the most. a typical nightmare for me includes lots of teeth falling out anxiety. its stress in my life manifesting when ive not been addressing it properly in my waking life. theres honestly many things in my life i dont address properly. i should make a list of those things probably. but i will do that later. my sleep paralysis happened on a monday night. the week prior my roommate and i had an honestly traumatic experience together involving a show at our basement venue. it all centered around this lana del rave we hosted. but this subject i absolutely can not get in to. it did though bring a lot of negativity in to our lives. i honestly havent cried that much since deciding to drop out of college in january 2020. its almost certainly what brought on my sleep paralysis. or invited this demon in to my bedroom. or whatever it was. bad energy. my sleep started off all wrong. i fell asleep sitting up watching true detective season one sexy matthew ma con a hey idk how to spell it with my roommate. after that i decided it was time to put myself to bed. but i couldnt be bothered to wash my face or brush my teeth as these days ive been hopelessly depressed. went to bed in my dirty sheets with my dirty face and dirty teeth... in an effort to save myself from being a complete failure. i put on the crystal bowl sound bath chakra healing vibrations album on spotify and set it to repeat. i fell asleep to the crystal bowl vibrations really easily. at first i had normal type dreams. i was in my middle school cafeteria but for some reason it was a high school reunion. i was wearing a backpack and feeling embarrassed about it. my old classmates tried talking to me but i couldnt speak because i kept stress eating candy and then stress chewing on the wrappers and drooling everywhere. i think at one point i was trying to answer a facetime with my friend who lives in new york. then the scene changed. i walk in to a room that is bright and all white with a backdrop hanging, a camera, clothing racks. a man and a woman are standing in the middle of the room waiting to greet me. i looked right at them but i dont know what they look like. "congratulations" they said "you made the call back" i felt very sick suddenly. i told them that i didnt feel well and asked if they would pick my outfits for me. then i laid down under the clothing rack to rest. as they were pulling clothes out above me the man pulled a knit sweater off the rack. it honestly kind of looks like this sweater we sell at urban outfitters. as he pulled it out the yarn began to unravel. it tangled around my neck somehow and the more he pulled the tighter it got around my neck and it felt like a rug burn as it choked me. i tried to yell out "stop, stop, stop" over and over again but i couldnt really audibly yell. this happens to me a lot in my dreams. as im getting over the fear of being choked and start to realize that im dreaming i wake up. i open my eyes and im laying in my bed. but i am not actually awake. it is still a dream actually because i rolled over in bed to see that someone else was asleep on my right. i felt so scared honestly exactly how id feel if i experienced this in real life. i didnt remember falling asleep with anyone. did i black out drunk was a thought i had. i reached out to touch the person in my bed, they looked small i thought maybe it could be my friend em. when i touched their back this person or thing sat up abruptly and began to shriek. that is not em i knew immediately. it felt like it was screaming in fear like id startled it awake. as the high pitched shriek continued another figure that i had not noticed rose up from the end of my bed and began to shriek as well.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns.

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art.

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready.

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by.

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #portrait of a dangerous man #dc #dcu #mob au #au #mob!au

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blackbat05 · 3 years ago

Text

Period Shenanigans

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Lol so my period came one week earlier than what my period tracker stated? But thank goodness I’m at home and I don’t have any schedules because I would be dead. I try not to arrange anything if I can help it especially on my first few days. What I write is what I experience and what helps me during my period but disclaimer, it may not work for everyone! Hope you liked this impromptu idea that came out of my head. I’m finally done with 10 weeks of placement! Just a little more~ Like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: Shangqi not being like most men and being so caring? Blood (but come on if you can see blood on action movies why not this?) and a whole load of fluff I guess? Oh an one explicit word too haha

The two of you come back from your morning runs as usual. Shower and breakfast was next. But after thirty minutes you didn’t come out of your room.

Shangqi decides to make a visit to make sure that nothing happened to you. ‘Y/N?’ He knocks on your door first. ‘You ok?’ He pressed his ear against the door, straining his ears. All he heard was a few unintelligible muffles. ‘I’m coming in ok?’

He made sure that he received your acknowledgement before slowly opening the door. There you were, crawled up on your bed, a hot pack on your tummy.

‘Fuck…’ you groaned as you tried to find the best position. Couldn’t you just live like a normal human being during this time of the month? Evidently god had other plans.

Let’s face it, at this moment you would have been embarrassed for Shangqi to see you in this state. But first, you were too tired to even care. Second, Shangqi was best friends with Katy before he met you. Surely he had seen enough.

He knows the protocol at the back of his head. Giving you a few reassuring taps on the shoulder, he leaves your room to prepare the essentials.

Tea, painkillers, sliced bananas and your favorite chocolate biscuits. Oh, don’t forget your humongous stuffed penguin that laid at the corner of your room but you were unable to get because of the pain that had nearly paralyzed you.

‘And the portable phone charger because I know you’ll be watching Running Man non stop,’ he passes you the object in question. ‘Be careful not to burst you appendix while laughing ok?’

You punched his shoulder lightly as a form of thanks. ‘What the hell would I do without you Shangqi,’ you adjusted your position to achieve maximum comfort on the bed. ‘Come on, watch with me,’ gesturing for him to sit next to you.

For the next 3 hours or so, you spend a good time with Shangqi laughing at the antics that the show provided. It was a good way to ignore the pain that was slowly going away by the minute.

Having your period meant that you were more tired than usual. After sipping the last bit of tea, you eyes felt heavier by the minute, eventually nodding off on Shangqi’s shoulder.

He slowly cradles your head, bringing it down on the pillow. Making sure that the blanket covered you, he cleaned the remaining stuff before leaving your room.

Sleep definitely helped. You woke up about an hour later to the unmistakable smell of macaroni soup boiling. Still in Shangqi’s oversized hoodie, you carried the stuffed penguin out like a little kid, making your way towards the kitchen.

There he was, donning an apron that said ‘World’s Best Cook’.

‘That’s kind of an exaggeration don’t you think?’ You teased, causing him to turn around. ‘Well, I must have woke you up because of this wonderful smell,’ he jokes back, taking a sip of the soup to test its taste. Satisfied, he closes back the lid to let it boil a bit more.

You appreciated what he did for you whenever your first few days of Niagara Falls proved to be physically taxing on you. But you just had one question…

‘When did you learn to cook Macaroni soup?’

‘Uh well,’ he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. ‘I called your mom earlier while you were asleep. She was kind enough to give me a idiot proof recipe for a cooking newbie like me.’

Appreciated? Scratch that out. You were stunned that he actually went to such lengths to make you feel better. You remembered when you were younger, your mother would cook you a bowl of warm macaroni soup. The chicken broth was light and easy on the stomach but still very filling.

Shangqi notices that you’re just standing there, not saying a word. He worries that maybe he went too far. Should he apologize? Should he just tell you that he wanted to help? Should he-

You come forward to hug him. ‘Thank you Shangqi. I’m probably saying this too many times for my own good but this means a lot to me.’

Wanda and Vision just came back from their Sunday grocery shopping. As Vision was about to walk through the walls to get through the kitchen, Wanda stops him.

‘What is it dear?’

‘I think we can wait. We don’t have any cold things to put in the fridge right?’ Vision shakes his head as he followed her looking very puzzled.

Wanda could see you and Shangqi at the kitchen counter. He was standing across you, eagerly watching you take the first sip, as if waiting for a stamp of approval. Your genuine reaction brings a huge smile to his face as he starts telling you his adventures in the kitchen, you laughing at his exaggerated account multiple times.

The two of you were basically in your own world.

Wanda was like a big sister to you since you came here from Madripoor. She felt herself constantly needing to protect you as despite your abilities, your kind heart served as a danger out in the field.

But ever since you knew the Martial Arts master, Wanda felt like she did not have to worry anymore. She knew that you were surrounded by good friends who would have your back out on the field and for this instance - when you weren’t feeling your best.

She quickly makes her leave before you spot her.

But Shangqi did as he was facing the door. He sees the sorceress put a finger to her lips. So he naturally goes back to the conversation with you.

While you finish the last bit of soup, Shangqi takes a quick peek at the entrance again. Wanda was still there but this time it looked like she had something to say to him. She must have used her abilities as his brain suddenly felt strange.

‘Thank you Shangqi for being with her.’

A/N: Yo this was supposed to be a period headcanon? Or is it just my hormones speaking that makes me unusually emotional. Anyways, hope you enjoyed another Shangqi headcanon again!😂 You have my period to thank for that.

Also can I just say I think my standards have changed? Like if a guy’s really considerate to me on my period like hell I think that’s just really neat in my books because unfortunately I haven’t come across any in real life🥲

#shang chi #xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #shang chi x reader #shangqi

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

Text

L is for Lunacy (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Established Relationship / Light Angst / Fluff

<< A FOLLOW-UP ONE SHOT TO THE ART OF WAR MORE >>

Synopsis: After two years of being sworn enemies (and 42,000 words of shenanigans), you and Jungkook had finally begun dating. As it turned out though, dating wasn’t any easier than coming up with the perfect witty retort to wipe the smirk from his face. When you came to the first Big Decision of the relationship, it was honestly anyone’s guess as to how things would go.

Warnings: handcuffs (male + female), oral (male + female), very explicit dirty talk, degradation, semi-public making out, spanking, condom-less sex, cum play, things get soft (except Jungkook’s dick). Seokjin randomly procures invitations to formal events; no one really knows how.

Word Count: 15,790

Author’s Note: In order for this to make the most sense, I would recommend reading The Art of War More first! Thank you :)

“One thousand bottles of Smirnoff on the wall, one thousand bottles of Smirnoff!” sang Seokjin, wildly off-key. “Take one down, ice someone with it, nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of Smirnoff on the wall!”

As the bus jolted over a pothole, you were launched sideways to land on Jungkook’s thigh. His response was a grunt, steadying you with one hand – lingering longer than necessary on the small of your back.

When you looked at him, Jungkook wriggled both brows.

“Fine,” he sighed when you withdrew from his grasp. “Just know that my lap is always available seating.”

“For anyone?” Taehyung popped over the seat in front of you. “Or just for Y/N?”

Jungkook’s brow crinkled. “Why would you want to sit on my lap?”

“You have solid thighs.”

“He has a point,” you agreed.

Jungkook looked at Taehyung a moment, then you. “Only you on my lap, thanks. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

Feigning outrage, Taehyung opened his mouth only for Seokjin to hit a high note at the back of the bus. All of you winced.

“How’d Seokjin get an invite to the hockey midseason banquet, anyways?” you wondered out loud. “He’s not even on the team.”

“I’ve long given up on asking pointless questions like that,” Jungkook said. “Seokjin’s going to go where he wants to go.”

“I guess.” You paused and then shrugged. “At least he decided to bring Gina as his date. Now we can all hang out together!”

Jungkook made a non-committal sound. “Is Gina still hooking up with Hobi? Surprised he was cool with her being Seokjin’s date.”

“No. That kind of fizzled,” you said, disappointed. “I don’t think he was ready for the whole boyfriend thing. Gina’s been kind of bummed, so hopefully tonight’s a good distraction.”

“Good thing distraction is Seokjin’s middle name.” Jungkook grinned. “Plus, I hear this hotel’s amazing. The banquet is being held on the fiftieth floor with this amazing view of the lake.”

Horrified, you stared. “Fiftieth floor? Sounds dangerous.”

“It’s all enclosed, babe.”

“Still. I wouldn’t put it past Taehyung to fall out.”

Taehyung popped back up over the seat. “You rang?” When Seokjin hit another high note, Taehyung winced and threw a crumpled-up tissue in his direction. “I swear to god, Jin!” he yelled. “If you sing one more annoying verse, the next tissue I throw won’t be clean!”

Seokjin immediately shut up, much to Gina’s laughter beside him.

Taehyung returned to you and Jungkook. “Anyways. What’d you say?”

“My girlfriend thinks you’re going to fall out of a window tonight,” Jungkook said cheerily. “Bets for or against?”

“Hm.” Taehyung considered. “I mean, it’s in my best interest to bet against me falling out, but what’re the odds?”

“Taehyung,” you laughed, reaching up to smack his arm. “Stop.”

“You didn’t say which window!” He shot you a grin. “I could just tumble from the first floor and make a fortune.”

“Well, now we know your plan,” Jungkook pointed out. “So, that’s out.”

Before Taehyung could respond, Gina plopped down in the seat across the aisle from you. Stretching both legs, she lifted her arms overhead.

“Hey, guys,” she yawned. “How much longer until we reach the hotel? I’m beat.”

“Half an hour. And maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t stayed up until 4:00 AM…” You gave her a pointed look.

“I had to! I was studying.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “And what about after that? When you were just re-watching old episodes of The Vampire Diaries?”

“Y/N.” Gina looked at you, appalled. “You can’t just end things right when Klaus shows up in Alaric’s body. I’m not a monster.”

“Clearly.”

With another large yawn, Gina settled into her seat. “What’s the plan for tonight, anyways? Do I have time to take a quick nap?”

“Depends on how long your naps are,” said Jungkook, leaning over. “We’re supposed to reach the hotel at 4:00 PM, check in and then have until 6:00 PM to get ready, which is when the banquet starts. You could probably sneak a nap in there.”

Grinning, you turned. “Look at you,” you cooed, poking his cheek. “Memorizing the schedule and everything.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turned faintly pink, but he seemed pleased with the praise.

“Aw.” Gina made a face. “Gross. Anyways,” she said, turning to Taehyung. “Where’s your date?”

Reluctantly, Namjoon popped his head over the seat. “Hey.”

When he appeared, Gina cracked up. “Wait – you’re Tae’s date? Hope you put out. I hear that’s expected at these things.”

“Really?” Taehyung arched a brow. “So, are you and Seokjin planning on doing the nasty?”

Gina made another face. “Don’t be revolting, Tae.”

“Huh?” Namjoon looked around in alarm. “What’re you talking about?”

“Bad timing,” Jungkook laughed. “Gina had just finished asking who Tae’s date was.”

“He came with Maria.” Namjoon pointed at the back of the bus. “She’s back there somewhere with Nichole.”

Gina glanced in the direction he pointed. “And how are you invited to hockey formal?” she asked, turning back. “Aren’t you like, afraid of sports, or something?”

Namjoon looked somewhat offended. “I’m not afraid of sports. I’m a student athletic manager! I have a place at this banquet, which is more than I can say about you and Seokjin. How’d you two get here?”

As they started arguing, you felt Jungkook stiffen beside you. Namjoon wasn’t the only student athletic manager for the men’s hockey team. Last year it was a guy named Luis, but he recently transferred to women’s soccer, sticking hockey with a new face.

A familiar face. Park Jimin.

You happened to see him when you first boarded, settling the question of whether or not he would go. He had decided to go; he was here.

It had been almost three months since you’d found out about Jimin’s lie. Back in freshman year, you and Jungkook had flirted and made plans to hang out at a party one weekend. Jungkook had to bail and asked Jimin to tell you – which he then didn’t. The resulting spiral of miscommunication resulted in you and Jungkook being enemies for almost two years.

Obviously, it wasn’t entirely Jimin’s fault. At any point, you and Jungkook could’ve gotten over your pride and just talked to each other and cleared up the whole thing. Neither one of you did though, which let the dumb feud continue – it was Jimin’s lie which started it though, and that was a hard thing to forget.

It was also something you had yet to talk to Jimin about. When word went around campus that you and Jungkook had started dating, it could’ve been your imagination, but you saw less of Jimin after that. It seemed pretty clear he had been avoiding you.

He had seated himself as far away from you and Jungkook as possible; all the way at the back, where Seokjin was taken a seat. Based on his uncomfortable posture beside his date, you got the feeling Jimin was having second thoughts about coming.

Squeezing Jungkook’s thigh, you waited until he turned his head. Even if Jimin was here, you weren’t going to let him ruin your weekend.

“We ended up together,” you murmured, only loud enough for him to hear. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just… get so annoyed when I see him. If it weren’t for his lie, I could’ve been with you this whole time.”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook blinked. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” you repeated, glancing up. “Or – maybe we would’ve both argued over something dumb and because we were young and immature, we would’ve broken up.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “But we’re still young and immature.”

“Touché. I’m just saying things happen the way they do a reason,” you added. “Or maybe they don’t, but you can’t change the past. What’s important is we’re together now.”

“I guess.”

Reaching for his hand, you entwined your fingers. “And more importantly – if you don’t stop sulking, you won’t get your present later.”

Jungkook perked up. “Present? You got me a gift?”

“Maybe. If you keep asking what it is though, you won’t get it.”

Mouth snapping shut, Jungkook stared out the window and you began to count down in your head. 5, 4, 3, 2 –

“So, is this present in addition to my Christmas gift?”

Bursting into laughter, you smacked his arm. “It’s just a fun gift, okay? You’ll see later tonight. Gosh, can’t a girl spoil her boyfriend?”

Jungkook’s gaze darkened, caught on a singular word. “A gift for tonight, tonight? Or for the banquet?”

“We’ll see,” you said smugly, sitting back.

“Y/N…”

His voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down your spine which you pointedly ignored. Turning away, you faced towards the aisle.

“You could always take a nap now, Gina,” you offered. “Before we reach the hotel.”

“And have Seokjin take pictures of me drooling with my mouth open? No thanks,” Gina sniffed.

She was right. Seokjin would do that.

Taehyung popped back up over his seat. “Are you and Seokjin sharing a room?” he asked, curious.

“What’s with your weird, pervy interest in Seokjin and I? Unfortunately, yes,” Gina sighed, slouched low in her seat. “I’m too poor to afford the single room rate.”

Seokjin finally appeared over the seat back behind you. It seemed he had managed to convince Parnce to switch seats – something he’d been texting about in the group chat since you boarded over an hour ago.

“Hey!” he blurted, offended. “I’m a delightful roommate, I’ll have you know. I leave chocolates on the pillow and everything.”

“Seokjin, it’s a hotel,” you pointed on. “They already leave chocolates on the pillows.

“Shhh,” Seokjin said. “I’m trying to impress a date here.”

Gina threw her scarf at Seokjin’s head. “I’m only your date because no one else agreed to go!”

“That’s not true!”

“Is so!”

“I mean, it’s kind of true,” Seokjin fake whispered to you, as though Gina couldn’t hear. “Allison and Elaine found out about each other.”

“Well, why did you keep them a secret?” you huffed. “No wonder you’re alone if you pull douchebag shit like that.”

“I didn’t keep them a secret!” Seokjin protested. “I told them both we weren’t exclusive, but…” Trailing off, he sighed. “What can I say? The ladies always want more.”

Another wadded up tissue hit Seokjin square in the face.

“Thanks, Tae!” Gina flopped back in her seat.

“There’s more where that came from,” Taehyung said, sitting down.

Seokjin stared in horror at the tissue on the floor.

“Hey! That... that one wasn’t used, was it?”

Sliding her sunglasses onto her nose, Gina pretending to sleep as the bus descended back into chaos.

Reaching out, Jungkook poked you in the side. “Seriously,” he whispered. “What’s my present?”

“Oh, would you look at that?” you said, sitting up straight. “There’s the hotel!”

Although Jungkook pouted, he allowed the conversation to be redirected and even helped gather your things off the bus.

As soon as you entered the revolving doors, you were immediately met with a blast of warmth from the lobby. You sighed in relief – and then came to a stop. Based on the lobby alone, this banquet was going to be fancy as fuck.

Jungkook had explained what the purpose of this banquet was once or twice, but you weren’t really listening at the time. Apparently the hockey team had a midseason and an end of season banquet. The midseason one tended to fall during their time off around finals, since it was one of the few times during on season when the players could drink.

“Whoa,” Seokjin breathed, coming to a stop alongside you. “I definitely didn’t pack nice enough underwear for this place.”

“Underwear?” Gina looked up in alarm. “Nobody’s going to be seeing your underwear this weekend, Seokjin. Except maybe the mirror.”

“I’ll know though,” he said. “Deep down, I’ll know I’m wearing cotton boxer-briefs instead of silk, like I should.”

Jungkook turned to face you. “Is that the present? Did you get me silk underwear?”

“No.”

“Did you get you silk underwear?”

“Still nope.”

“Huh.” Slightly deflated, Jungkook began to walk towards check-in. “I’m becoming less interested in what this present is.”

“Hey!” you laughed, punching his arm.

Check-in in was luckily fast – the hotel had set people aside for your group and before you knew it, you were loaded onto an elevator and pressing the button for the twentieth floor. Even though it wasn’t as high as fifty, you still warily eyed the panel.

“What?” Jungkook set his bag on the floor.

“Nothing.” You paused. “The windows all lock, right?”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m just saying! If Taehyung really fell from the twentieth floor, he would die.”

“Well, I guess Taehyung will just have to stay out of our bedroom, huh?”

Jungkook arched a brow when he spoke, gaze dark with something which made your skin tingle. Suddenly, the long hours of banquet ahead seemed like too much. It was fairly tempting for you to skip the whole thing and spend it in your hotel room with Jungkook. In bed.

The elevator dinged to announce your floor.

“This is us,” Jungkook said, grabbing your suitcase.

Slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder, Jungkook wheeled your suitcase out of the elevator. Your room was all the way at the end of the hall, past the ice machine and neon red exit sign. Dubiously, you glanced at this as you passed.

“If there were an actual emergency,” you said, slipping both arms around his waist to rest your head on his back. “Those stairs would be a death trap.”

“Hopefully there’s no emergency, then.” Jungkook pushed open the door. “Here we are.”

As you glanced over his shoulder, you froze.

“Holy shit.”

Wandering forward, Jungkook set his bag on the floor. “What?” he asked, turning around. “Is there something wrong?”

Staring at the room, you somehow managed to close the door behind you.

The space was airy, light and gorgeous. The décor was simple in that way which made you absolutely certain each item cost more than the entirety of your suitcase. Fluffy, white pillows were piled on a bed with an actual metal latticed headboard. Gauzy curtains covered the windows, and –

“Champagne?” you blurted, rushing forward. As you passed the front hall, you caught a glimpse of the closet. “And oh my god – robes. Robes, Jungkook! Plural!”

He grinned, watching you run about the room in excitement. “So, you like it?”

“Like it?” You came to a sudden stop, crystal champagne glass in hand. Realizing something, you frowned. “Wait, Jungkook. How the fuck did you afford this?”

“I came into some money overnight.”

“Sounds ominous.”

Jungkook grinned. “Actually, Seokjin’s Uncle got us a room as a favor. There’s no way I could’ve afforded this.”

Setting the champagne glass on the table, you scanned the room as you crossed to his side. “Not yet,” you teased. “Not until you make it big in the NHL. Then you’ll be able to afford all the presents for me!”

A shadow crossed Jungkook’s expression, gone before you could determine its source. He laughed, turning around and bent to unzip your suitcase. Lunging forward, you grabbed for his hand.

“No peeking!” you scolded.

Jungkook froze and looked at you innocently. “Whoops.”

“Don’t ‘whoops’ me,” you said, slapping his wrist. Huffing, you pushed your suitcase into a corner. “You’ll get your present later. We’ve got to get ready for the banquet now.”

“That’s not for hours,” Jungkook whined, flopping down on the bed.

As soon as his ass hit the sheets, his t-shirt rode up to reveal a flat strip of abs. Momentarily distracted, you stared before you shook yourself free.

“Nice try, Jeon!” Spinning around on your heel, you entered the bathroom. This obviously prompted a new round of exclamations. (“Oh my god, there’s a heat rack for the towels!”)

An hour later, you were putting the finishing touches on your make-up while Jungkook changed in the next room. Taehyung had texted fifteen minutes prior and invited everyone to drinks in the lobby. Reading his text had made you laugh, since it made you all sound so grown-up and formal.

The entire event made you feel this way – as though you and Jungkook were two kids playing dress up. College was such a weird time. On the one hand, you lived on your own and were forced to make decisions about your future and on the other, you had barely reached legal drinking age.

College was a strange limbo of job interviews and beer pong in the same twenty-four-hour period. This, though – fixing your make-up while Jungkook changed in the next room – felt scarily adult.

Although you had only been dating for months, you could already see this becoming reality. The realization was startling, making you stare at yourself in the mirror.

“Hey, babe?” Jungkook called from the next room.

“Uh, yeah?”

Somewhat dazed, you screwed the cap on your mascara.

“When are you going to be done? I need to go to the bathroom.”

Sliding your make-up bag off the sink, you gave a final pat to your hair in the lights. Inspecting your face one final time, you turned in your robe and walked from the room.

“Coming!”

The moment you exited the bathroom, you stopped in your tracks.

Jungkook had already gotten dressed and stood beside the window to survey the city. His hair was parted on one side, slightly slicked back with several loose strands hanging about his face. He was dressed in a suit – grey with a black shirt, and by far the fanciest outfit you’d ever seen him in.

Swallowing, you stood there for a moment while you eye-fucked your boyfriend.

Still facing the window, the corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you going to stand there watching me all night?”

“No,” you said loftily, entering the room. “I’m going to get dressed so we can go to the banquet, come back to this room and I can rip that suit off you.”

Jungkook turned, slightly dazed. “Fuck. Yes. That.”

He walked towards you, pausing his stride to brush a chaste kiss to your temple. Grabbing his lapel, you turned him towards you to press a kiss on his lips. Jungkook smiled, melting forward but before you take it any further, he pulled back.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he laughed, squeezing your waist before walking away. “If you kiss me like that, I won’t stop. And then I’ll definitely mess up your hair and we’ll never make it to the restaurant on time.”

Stepping into the bathroom, he shut the door.

You grinned, wandering further into the bedroom. Your dress still hung in the closet; you’d placed it there upon arrival. Thankfully, it didn’t wrinkle too much on the drive here.

“What if that’s what I want?” you called to him through the door. “We can skip the formal, stay here and just have sex.”

Jungkook remained quiet. He hated talking while either one of you was on the toilet – it was a whole thing with him, which resulted in your merciless teasing.

Slipping your dress from its hanger, you moved towards the mirror. "I'll take that as a yes, Jeon!" you said, glancing around for your shoes. "Stay silent if you want to skip the formal, hang out here and have crazy bunny sex."

After a moment, the toilet flushed and the sound of the sink turned on.

Jungkook yelled back, "What's crazy bunny sex?"

Plopping down on the bed, you set your dress on the duvet. "You know!" you huffed, feeling around when a phone vibrated. "Don't rabbits have like, a crazy high sex drive? Where'd the phrase 'doing it like rabbits' come from?"

"As interested as I am in whatever hybrid fanfic you've dreamt up, maybe–"

Although Jungkook continued to talk, the sound of it faded when you unearthed his cell phone. A name flashed on the screen – BOB SUTHERLAND, which would've meant nothing to you except for the text message.

Hey, Jungkook! Thanks for finally returning my calls. There are a few NHL teams looking for a second-string center and–

The rest of the message was cut off, but it was enough for you to understand. You recognized the name Bob Sutherland. He was a recruiter for the NHL and a damn good one, if Taehyung's word was anything to go by. The fact that he wanted to scout Jungkook didn't surprise you, but it was surprising to hear Jungkook had returned his calls.

Staring at your phone, your heart began to beat a bit faster. Jungkook didn't want to go into the NHL now – did he?

The NHL, or the National Hockey League, was the end game for any hockey player. It was a mixed bag if players went into the league straight out of high school, played in lower leagues for a bit, or played in college until they got recruited. Even then, there were only so many good years an athlete had to play. It made sense for Jungkook to want to leave University for his dream job, but you hadn't thought it would happen so soon.

The sound of the bathroom door opening jerked you from your trance. Frantically tossing his phone to the bed, you grabbed your dress and stood to look around for your shoes.

Stepping into the hall, Jungkook smiled when he saw you. "Is that your dress?" he asked, spotting the fabric. "Are you gonna put it on? Can I watch?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to have sex," you said, forcing yourself to smile as you brushed past him.

"It's not that I don't want to have sex," he grumbled, fastening a cuff link. "It's just that if we did, there's no way in hell we'd make it on time."

Although you continued to smile, the contents of that text replayed in your mind. Exhaling lowly, you tried to push this aside. Jungkook would talk to you about it when he was ready. You couldn't fault him for being curious about graduating early. A lot of NHL and MLB players did it – it’s just, you had thought Jungkook wanted to finish his degree.

Shutting the bathroom door, you leaned your head to the wood and willed your thoughts to remain calm. It would be stupid to blow this out of proportion. You and Jungkook had only been dating for three months; it was too soon to expect him to tell you every little thing. Especially something so ambiguous as potential recruitment.

You two hadn't even said I love you to each other yet.

Jaw clenched, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Maybe that was why you were getting so worked up about this. It wasn't for lack of emotion you hadn't told Jungkook you loved him, but lack of courage.

You did love him. You had for weeks, maybe months and maybe longer than that.

It was self-preservation that forced you to swallow the words each time Jungkook did something sweet, sexy or just plain adorable. For the number of times you had bitten your tongue over the past weeks, you were surprised you had a tongue left to speak with.

Still, you’d only told one other boyfriend you loved them and that hadn't ended so well. You and Jungkook had only been dating for three months. It was too soon to place that kind of pressure on him.

Especially not if he'd be leaving University at the end of this year.

Fear gripped your heart, forcing its way to your lungs while you willed yourself to breathe. You waited, taking deep breaths until the paralysis subsided. Numbly getting dressed, you tried several times before realizing the futility of your zipper.

Dropping your arms, you opened the door a crack.

"Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

It was probably your imagination, but he sounded far away. In more ways than one.

"Can you zip me up?"

"Sure thing, babe."

As you walked from the bathroom, you held your dress with both hands so it wouldn't fall down. Jungkook's eyes widened as soon as he saw you, seated on the edge of the mattress with his broad thighs spread.

His phone dropped from his grasp.

"Fuck," he breathed, staring hard.

The longer he looked, the more your face heated. Jungkook had a way of looking at you which set fire to your veins, which made you feel seen and wanted and heard. He exhaled, tongue darting out to touch the corner of his lips and almost imperceptibly, his hands tightened on the duvet.

"The zipper?" you reminded him, fighting back a smile.

"Right. Uh," he said, standing up from the bed. Immediately, he winced. "Um. Give me a second."

After another deep breath, Jungkook walked closer, but his gait remained awkward; concealing his boner.

"Are you sure you can dance like that, Jeon?" you teased as you turned around.

"No," he huffed, hands replacing yours on the dress. "Maybe if you could be a little less hot, that would be great."

"I'll try. Maybe if I put spinach in my teeth, or something."

"Nah. Even then, I'd still do you."

"Wow, that's l–" Clamping your lips shut, you stopped the l-word from escaping. "Um, that's lunacy, Jeon."

When he didn't immediately respond, you began to panic but then Jungkook chuckled, moving the zipper upwards.

"Done," he announced, stepping back.

Slowly, you turned.

Jungkook's gaze darkened.

Nervous, you smoothed both sides of your dress down. It had taken you a while to pick this one out; several trips to the mall with Gina and eventually, she’d been the one to make the final call. The dress was more revealing than what you usually wore, with a deep-cut neckline and mostly open back. It did wonders for your curves though, highlighting what Jungkook claimed to be his favorite assets.

Then again, Jungkook claimed that about every part of your body.

Still, the way he stared made you feel Gina had made the right choice.

"Whoa," he said hoarsely.

Laughing, you took his hand in yours and dragged him towards the door. "Come on. We're going to be late."

Playfully, Jungkook dug in his heels.

"We can be a little late," he said, contradicting himself.

"Nope." Cheerful, you stepped into your heels at the door. "You're the one who said you couldn't control yourself if you kissed me."

Although Jungkook sighed, he grabbed the key and opened the door to the hall. You followed him outside, where Jungkook shoved his wallet in a pocket and gallantly offered his arm.

"M'lady."

"Jungkook," you sighed, accepting the gesture. "That line didn't work on me before. It's not going to work on me now."

"Wrong!" he said as you walked down the hall. "It did work. Now we’re dating, right? You're mine. In like, a romantic way. Not in a creepy, possessive one."

You laughed as the elevator doors opened and you stepped inside. Jungkook followed, refusing to let go of you all the way to the lobby. He wasn't being subtle about it, keeping a hand on your waist, his thigh pressed to yours, his fingers drifting lazily over the curve of your back.

His fondness for touch usually made you feel wanted, but now you couldn't help but wonder if there was something else to it. Maybe the reason he wanted to be so close was because he knew he was leaving at the end of the year.

Stomach sinking, you told yourself to stop it. Jungkook hadn't made any decisions and you were sure he’d talk to you before he did.

Or – you thought that he would.

Anxiety remained even once the doors opened and you entered the lobby. It refused to lessen throughout the entirety of pre-dinner drinks and even as you rode towards the banquet in the elevator, you found yourself in the back, quieter than normal.

Apparently this was noticeable enough for Gina to pull you aside as you entered, shooing Seokjin away with instructions to find them good seats.

"What's wrong?" she asked, tugging you behind a plant.

"Nothing!" you insisted.

Gina gave you a look.

She was dressed in a slinky red number tonight. You had picked it out right after she made the final decision on yours. Had Gina been allowed to choose, she would've worn the same t-shirt and jeans she always did. You had thought it would be funny to see her in something so sexy, but like everything else, Gina pulled it off effortlessly.

Based on the way people were staring, including her date, you knew you had made the right choice.

She narrowed her eyes. "Something's up," Gina said. "Normally, Seokjin's impression of Christopher Walken cracks you up – god knows why – but today, it didn't even make you crack a smile. What's going on?"

"It's nothing," you insisted, glancing around the room. Jungkook had paused at your table, scanning the crowd to see where you were. "Gina, we really should get–"

"Is it lover boy over there?"

Alarmed, you met her gaze. "Gina!” You dropped your voice. “I told you we hadn't said that yet."

"Oh, please." Gina rolled her eyes. "Boy is so whipped for you, it isn't even funny. He probably just doesn’t want to say it too fast and scare you off. Remember how long it took you to admit that you liked each other? This is the same. You're both playing emotional chicken."

Unable to stop yourself, you snorted. "Emotional chicken? Maybe, but…” Hesitant, you glanced around the floor. “Gina, what if he went into the NHL this year?"

Gina paused. "This year?"

"I mean... a lot of players do. There's only so long you can play hockey professionally."

"That’d make it harder to date for sure. Where’s this coming from, Y/N?"

"Nowhere," you said. "Just something I've been thinking. It would make it harder to date, right?"

"I guess. But so what?"

"I… huh?"

"So what?" she repeated. "Even if Jungkook does leave at the end of this year, how does that change the fact that you love him?"

Having no response to this, you stayed quiet.

Gina reached for your hand. "I'm just saying," she said, a bit gentler. "There’s always a million reasons it might not work out. All you can control is what you do now and how honest you are. Starting with... oh, I don't know... telling your boyfriend how much you love that flat ass of his."

"It's not as flat anymore!" you blurted, defensive. "He's been doing squats."

"Yeah, whatever." Grinning, Gina pulled you from behind the plant. "We should probably get back before Seokjin grabs the mic to sing Tiny Dancer. Just promise me you'll think about telling him?"

"Okay, I'll think about it," you sighed, following her towards the tables.

Spotting you from across the room, Jungkook grinned and waved a hand overhead. Seeing his face, a familiar rush of butterflies appeared. Except it wasn't just butterflies anymore; now there was a whole goddamn symphony and from the moment you saw him, you knew Gina was right.

You should tell him you loved him.

Maybe not now, though because as you approached your table, a familiar silhouette appeared by your side.

"Y/N?" Jimin said, sounding tentative.

Feet faltering, you came to a stop.

Even from across the room, you could see Jungkook's gaze darken. Jimin stepped between you though, blocking your way to the table. Somewhat reluctantly, you waved Gina on.

"Go on," you said with a sigh. "Tell Jungkook I want the steak."

Gina nodded once, glared at Jimin, and continued walking towards Seokjin. She knew you could handle being alone with him.

Jimin waited until she was out of earshot before speaking.

"Hi."

"Hey, Jimin."

Nervous, he swallowed. "Um, you look nice tonight. I mean you always look–"

"Jimin," you interrupted, folding your arms over your chest. "Get to the point."

"Right." He gave you an uncertain look. "I just wanted to... apologize."

"Apologize for what?"

Somehow, you managed to keep your expression neutral.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jimin saw Jungkook staring. He sighed and turned back. "For what I did freshman year."

"And what did you do freshman year?"

"Wow." Jimin gave you a half-smile. "You really aren't going to make this easy on me, huh?"

"No," you responded. "I don't think I will."

Something serious, almost sad entered Jimin’s gaze and he nodded. "Right. I guess I deserve that. I wanted to apologize for lying to you freshman year. I should've told you what really happened to Jungkook."

"You should have.”

"I know." Jimin bit down on his lip. "It's just that... I really liked you. And you seemed to like me back, so I thought it would be easier if Jungkook was out of the picture...." He trailed off, looking miserable. "It was stupid, I know."

Some of your anger lessened at his expression. He truly did seem as though he was sorry and while that didn’t change what had happened, it didn’t seem worthwhile to hold onto something so petty.

You hesitated. "It wasn't... stupid, exactly."

It wasn’t stupid in the way he implied and in a way, you realized you understood. You had liked Jimin freshman year, which was what made this complicated. You had also liked Jungkook and maybe you would’ve stood a chance back then if Jimin hadn’t lied. Then again, maybe not.

It was like what you told Jungkook earlier. It was pointless to ask what if because what ifs weren't what happened. All you had was the current situation and where you went from here.

A thought popped into your mind.

"Can I ask you something?" you said, lowering your arms.

Jimin blinked. "Sure."

"Why did you end things between us freshman year?" you asked. It was something you’d wondered for years. "If you liked me enough to go through all that with Jungkook... then what happened?"

Because he had been the one to end your fuck buddy relationship. You had been perfectly fine to continue seeing him sophomore year, but Jimin had been the one to pull back. It was something that’d always bothered you, but you’d never had the courage to ask.

Jimin gave a lopsided smile. "I wanted to date you, Y/N."

"What?” You looked at him, stunned. “When?"

"Freshman year," he said. "I mentioned going on a date a few times. Getting dinner together, being my date to my dorm's formal... you always turned me down and after a while, I stopped asking."

Dimly, you recall what he’s talking about. He mostly asked first semester, but you remember Jimin mentioning all those things. You always thought he wasn’t serious, but maybe that was just what you wanted to think. You were still hurt by Jungkook, not looking for anything real and maybe you were the one pushing Jimin away.

“I… I didn’t think you really liked me like that,” you said quietly.

Jimin offered a sad smile. “I could’ve been clearer, I guess. I didn’t want to scare you, so I was purposefully vague…” Considering, he shrugged. “I broke things off with you because I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way. Call it self-preservation, or whatever.”

“Oh,” you responded, voice small.

Seeing your discomfort, Jimin sighed. “Hey, it all worked out – didn’t it? I’m having a good time with my date and you and Jungkook look happy together. I’m glad you are. I just wanted to apologize to you in person, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you said slowly. “I appreciate that.”

“No problem.” Jimin hovered a moment, clearly unsure whether to go. “Well. I should be getting back to my table…”

“It’s just,” you said, interrupting. “I’m not the only one you should apologize to.”

Jimin looked at you in surprise.

“I appreciate you saying something to me,” you said. “And I’m not mad anymore, but Jungkook trusted you back then. You were a dick to him just because you liked me. I’m not the only one who deserves an apology.”

Jimin’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “Yeah. I know.”

You paused a moment, but he didn’t say any more and at last, you nodded. “Thanks again, Jimin. I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“You, too.”

Turning around, you left his side.

Oddly, your heart felt lighter with each step you took. You hadn’t realized how much the anticipation of that conversation had weighed upon you. Ever since seeing Jimin enter the bus, you had imagined something like this would happen.

Even if Jimin had been avoiding you, it wasn’t like you had been close friends before. Acquaintances, maybe, but even that dwindled once you realized Jimin’s lie to you freshman year. That kind of breach of trust really shook your foundations.

Maybe in the future you could be friends with Jimin again but honestly, you had no inclination to do so now.

Jungkook was already seated when you reached the table, his napkin unfolded and set on his lap. As you took your seat in the chair beside him, he looked over your shoulder.

“What did Jimin want?”

You glanced his way. “He wanted to apologize.”

Jungkook said nothing, his expression inscrutable.

“He said he was sorry about what happened freshman year.”

With a rough sort of laugh, Jungkook sat back in his seat. Playing with the corner of his napkin, he slowly exhaled.

After a moment, he said, “Now?”

“Huh?”

“Now?” Jungkook turned to face you. “Jimin says he’s sorry now for what he did?”

“I mean, he –”

“He’s just sorry because he got caught,” he muttered, jaw tight.

“Maybe.” You considered, then sighed. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. He just wanted to apologize. He said he’s glad that we’re happy.”

Jungkook’s next laugh was sharp and he looked away. It wasn’t often he got mad, but when Jungkook did, it was hard to pull out of. He tended to brood, turning things over and over in his mind until the edges were dull.

Reaching out, you placed a hand on his leg. “Hey.”

Jungkook stayed where he was.

Shifting, you reached to place a kiss on his cheek. “Jungkook,” you said softly, squeezing his thigh. “There’s literally nowhere I’d rather be but right here with you.”

Finally, Jungkook caved and turned to look at you.

His eyes were large and dark, full of something you couldn’t quite place but felt in your soul. Something fluttered in your stomach and you held your breath, anticipating what he was about to say.

His hand covered yours, thumb brushing gently against your palm. “Y/N, I –”

“NOOOO!”

“YES! VINDICATED, AT LAST!”

The sound of the commotion jerked you apart and, craning your head, you spotted the source of the turmoil several seats down at the table.

Jungkook sat back with a thump, swallowing whatever it was he had to say.

Taehyung stood in front of his chair, one of those silver food platters on the table before him. It seemed dinner had begun to be served and Taehyung had gotten a dish with a lid. When he opened said lid, there had been no food on the plate – only a singular bottle of raspberry Smirnoff Ice.

Dramatically pushing back his chair, Seokjin stood to claim his victory. “Drink!” he declared, spreading his arms. “I’ve finally done it! I’ve bested my enemy, pulled the thorn from my side, tricked the eternal trickster – wait, why are you smiling? Why is he smiling?” he demanded, glancing at Gina.

Gina shrugged.

Taehyung knelt, per the official rules of Icing. He was halfway through what you could only assume to be a very warm bottle of Smirnoff Ice and yet, Taehyung didn’t seem angry. Instead, he had one brow cocked in a way which implied he’d still somehow won.

Seokjin stared at him in confusion.

Continuing to chug, Taehyung gestured beneath Seokjin’s chair.

The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion. Face gone suddenly slack, Seokjin bent and looked under his seat. He paused for a moment, staring at something and then sighed.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

A green apple Smirnoff Ice was under his chair.

“Oh, damn,” whispered Jungkook in sympathy. “Green apple is the worst flavor.”

Finishing his bottle, Taehyung slammed it on the table. “Fuck is right,” he said grandly as he stood. “Don’t forget to kneel, man.”

“But… but – how?” Seokjin cried, looking up. “I checked under my chair before I sat down!”

Mysterious, Taehyung shrugged and sat down. “It’s not your place to question, but to chug.”

As Seokjin sighed and got on with it, Gina leaned over . “Taehyung paid me a hundred bucks to plant it after he’d already sat down,” she whispered, then grinned. “Worth it.”

You snorted into your napkin, hiding it quickly when Seokjin glanced your way. As soon as he was done chugging, Seokjin set his empty bottle on the table and sank low in his seat.

“One of these days,” he muttered to no one. “I’ll get my revenge.”

Gina patted his arm. “Sure you will,” she said, twisting around in her seat. “Oo! They have those mini hot dogs. I love those.”

Seokjin instantly perked up, since he was also a mini hot dog fan. The table settled down after that, once the meals were distributed and people starting to eat. Jungkook cut into his steak beside you, exhaling in relief when he saw it was perfectly cooked. Jungkook had a thing about the temperature of his meat.

You wanted to talk more about Jimin, but the music was loud and the conversation so sensitive, you eventually gave up and figured you’d have time to talk later.

Jungkook’s hand found your thigh midway through the meal, so you knew he wasn’t holding onto a grudge. Or maybe he was and he was just really good at hiding it. Jungkook wasn’t normally the type to be jealous; you knew that wasn’t what this was really about.

It had more to do with what you told Jimin at the end. Jungkook had considered Jimin his friend at one time. It had hurt him as much as you when he’d realized what Jimin had done.

All through dessert you watched Jungkook, trying to read his expression until eventually, his lips quirked and he reached for your hand.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook murmured, arching a brow. “Promise.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook laughed, shoveling the last bite of cake in his mouth. Setting his napkin aside, he stood from his seat and reached for your hand. Pulling you out of your chair, he led you in the direction of the dance floor. Most of the tables had already been cleared, their residents disappeared to start the next part of their evening.

Actual awards were only for the end of year banquet, or so Jungkook had told you on the bus. For the midseason banquet there were superlative awards given out, but they were usually distributed at brunch the next morning.

Jungkook pulled you to face him in the middle of the dance floor. One hand on your hip, he drew you close to the music.

“I’m positive I’m fine,” he said. “Sorry that I overreacted.”

“You didn’t,” you said, tilting your head up. “I know it’s a sensitive topic.”

“I know.” Jungkook still looked troubled. “It’s like you said, though. Who knows what would’ve happened freshman year? Maybe we would’ve worked out. Maybe not. Either way, there’s no point in worrying. We’re together now and that’s what matters.”

“Right.” Stepping closer, you leaned in and rested your head on his chest. “We are.”

Jungkook’s grip on you tightened. “And besides,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t really want to spend any more time thinking about Jimin tonight. I’d rather think about you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm,” he said, low in your ear. “You, and how beautiful you look in that dress.”

“Just this dress?”

“All dresses. All clothes. Also – no clothes. Hell, you could wear a potato sack and I’d still think it was hot.”

Laughing, you looked up. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Jungkook grinned, his smile bright in the newly dimmed lights. Within the past half hour, someone had turned down the overhead lights for ‘mood lighting.’ The tables had all been pushed back to clear space for the DJ and make a path to the windows. The sight of the city laid out before you was, indeed, spectacular.

A view rivaled only by the man standing before you.

“What?” Jungkook’s grin widened at your expression.

“Just thinking about how good you look,” you said with a sigh. “Can’t wait to use my present on you later.”

His eyes darkened. “So, it’s something to use on me?”

“Whoops,” you said, delicate. “Did I say that? Must’ve misspoke.”

His grip on your waist tightened as you danced. Lowering his head, Jungkook’s lips grazed your ear.

“Y/N.” He spoke softly, one hand sliding to the small of your back. “Don’t tease me. I’m not above public indecency.”

A thrill ran down your spine. “How indecent?” you asked, just as quiet.

To everyone around you, it merely looked as though you were dancing – turning around the room in time to the song. In reality, Jungkook’s breath quickened while your heartbeat raced, tilting your chin upwards to see him.

His gaze had turned positively carnal. “Y/N, just say the word and I’ll fuck you right here and right now.”

“Jungkook,” you whispered. “There are people around.”

His ensuing smile was cocky. “So? Bet they could learn a thing or two.”

“And you think you’d be the one to teach them?”

“I’d say so,” he said quietly. “Based on how loud you are when you come, I’d say I’m doing something right.”

“I see.” Blithely, you continued to dance. “Its statements like that which are exactly why I needed to bring your present.”

Jungkook’s expression melted to nothing. “Y/N,” he whined, all semblance of cockiness gone. “Please tell me what the gift is?”

“Nope. The build-up is half the fun!”

“When it comes to you,” Jungkook groaned. “It doesn’t take much to get me worked up.”

“Hm. You’ll have to control yourself better than that if you want to cum tonight, babe.”

Jungkook made a tortured sound in his throat. “Y/N...”

“Yes?”

Rather than answer, Jungkook grabbed your hand to pull you from the dance floor. Grinning at the broad panes of his back, you grabbed your dress in one hand so as to not trip on your heels.

“Jungkook,” you laughed, passing knowing expressions. “Slow down!”

Jungkook obliged but continued to walk until he found a suitably secluded alcove. Pulling you with, he turned you around to press your back to the wall, dripping his head for a kiss.

Melting into his touch, your arms found his neck to pull him even closer. Jungkook’s body molded to yours, one arm on the wall while his lips devoured you. You arched against him, fingers sliding up his back to entwine in his hair. Jungkook whined when you tugged, breaking away briefly to rest his forehead to yours.

Breathless, you laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” he murmured.

“Mm, nothing.” Your hands slid to his waist. “It’s just… this kiss reminds me of another one.”

“Which one?”

“You know… the one at that party…”

“Oh, yeah.” His lips quirked. “When I beat you in beer pong.”

“Okay, you didn’t beat me.”

Lowering his head, Jungkook’s lips brushed that sensitive junction between neck and collarbone. A sigh escaped when he slid to rest either hand on the wall beside you. Keeping his body carefully separate, only Jungkook’s hot lips chased over your skin. His tongue flicked a heated path up your throat, holding himself back just to prove that he could.

Pulling away, Jungkook met your gaze. Heat radiated from every line of his body, tempting you further to close the distance between you.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” you whispered. “Less tongue.”

Jungkook’s upper lip twitched.

Before you could respond, he bent to kiss you again and all thoughts of reprimand went out the window. Instead, you arched upwards, craving his touch. Jungkook seemed to be of the same mindset, hips caging yours as he ground his way forward.

Hands returned to his hair, you anchored yourself with each breath you stole. Whatever lipstick you’d had on was long gone by now; Jungkook’s hand found your back and – remembering the backless dress you wore – he groaned.

“What bra do you wear with this, anyways?” he said, pulling back.

“None.” Staring at him, your upper lip curled. “I am wearing underwear, but I’ll admit they don’t leave much to the imagination.”

Jungkook looked tortured. “What are you doing to me?” he pleaded, looking at you with puppy-dog eyes.

Before you could respond, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to your jaw.

“When we get back to the room,” he murmured, marking his way towards your ear. “I want this dress off. Panties on. Keep the heels on. Splayed out like that on the bed, so I can bury myself between your legs and eat your pussy all fucking night.”

“Sounds ambitious,” you breathed, your head hitting the wall.

“It is.” Jungkook smirked. “I like to set goals for myself. And whether I win or lose, you still win.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Mhm. If I don’t edge you all night, you get to come. And if I do, you still get to come. Win-win.”

Laughing, your fingers curled in his hair. “Well, I –”

“Get a roooom,” Seokjin booed as he walked past. “The bathroom’s right here, guys. People have probably been nauseated walking past you for however long you’ve been back here making out.”

Flustered, you glanced over Jungkook’s shoulder and realized Seokjin was right. The back of his tuxedo disappeared into the men’s bathroom, with the women’s room directly across from it in the hall. Groaning softly, you lowered your face to Jungkook’s lapel.

While you hid, Jungkook started to chuckle. His laughter shook your frame, making you smile until eventually, you started to laugh as well.

“Whoops.” Jungkook pulled back, only to wince. Reaching down, he adjusted the too-tight fabric stretched over his crotch. “Um. Maybe we should head to our room.”

“Already? There’s still a few hours left of the banquet.”

“I know, but…” Jungkook glanced past you, looking into the main room. “We came, we drank, we danced… I just kind of want to be with you now.”

“Well, alright,” you said, allowing yourself to be led down the hall. “If that’s really what you want.”

“It is,” he assured, pressing the down button for the elevator.

You smiled, leaning your head to his shoulder while you waited for its arrival. The lights in the hall were dim, bass thumping loudly from the DJ in the next room. Laughter and shouting echoed down the hall, but the spot by the elevator was relatively quiet.

When Jungkook’s phone went off in his pocket, you jumped. “Oh,” you laughed, glancing up. “That scared me.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook said, fishing around in his pocket.

When he saw who was calling, his expression changed and he immediately pressed off. Stuffing this back in his pocket, he shot you a quick smile and faced forward.

The elevator dinged.

You stared at his back as you entered, uncertainty churning your stomach. Things had been going so well, you had almost forgotten about the events of earlier – the text message you saw on his phone and what it might mean for your future.

Now, it was all you could think about. It wasn’t fair to press Jungkook to talk before he was ready but in all honesty, you were kind of going crazy. As the doors shut behind you, you turned to face Jungkook.

“Who was that?” you asked, innocent.

For a moment, Jungkook looked panicked. He hid this quickly behind a mask of indifference, which looked even stranger than the panic had on his face. Jungkook was not an indifferent kind of person.

“Um, no one,” he said quickly – too quickly. “Just my mom.”

Jungkook was a terrible liar.

Setting aside the fact that he was a classic mama’s boy and would have never have ignored her – maybe he would’ve said he can’t talk right now, but he at least would’ve answered – he now fidgeted anxiously like his feet were on fire. Eyes narrowed, you stared as his profile while the numbers of the floors ticked slowly down.

“You can call her back if you want,” you offered.

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. “Uh – no, that’s okay. She’ll send me a text if it’s important.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Facing forward, you casually stepped from his arm in the guise of being too warm. The numbers had almost reached the twentieth floor, but it wasn’t the descent which had your stomach tied in knots. In your peripheral, you saw Jungkook glance your way while you stared stubbornly at the doors.

The elevator slowed.

“We’re here,” you announced, striding into the hall.

You kept a few steps ahead of him as you walked, gaze focused on your room at the end of the hall. Even though you knew it was unfair to be mad, you couldn’t help the hurt which hounded your thoughts.

When Jungkook had taken out his phone, you had seen the name of the person calling him – Bob Sutherland, the very same recruiter who’d texted him earlier. Each step you took made you angrier, wondering if he’d already gotten the offer, or maybe he’d even accepted. You weren’t sure what the NHL recruiting process was, let alone what your place in it would be as his girlfriend.

Coming to a stop at your hotel room, you halted and waited for Jungkook to catch up.

He did so easily, brow creased as he reached to take hold of your hand. “Hey,” he said gently, turning you to face him. “Is something wrong? Did you want to stay at the banquet longer?”

You looked at his hand for a moment before raising your gaze to his.

“No,” you responded. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Jungkook hesitated. “Want to talk about it, whatever it is?”

You scowled. “I said nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Y/N,” Jungkook said with a smile. “Come on. You can tell me – what is it?”

For a moment, you just stared at him. Your first instinct was to push this down, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but that was cowardly. The situation clearly upset you and trying to pretend otherwise wasn’t fair to you, or to him.

Before you could change your mind, you blurted, “Why’d you lie about your mom calling you just now?”

The words slipped past in a rush and Jungkook froze. The look on his face would have been comical had the circumstances not been making you sick to your stomach.

“I – what?”

“Right now,” you explained. “Before we entered the elevator, you said your mom called, but she didn’t. Admit it.”

Jungkook stared at you a second longer, then glanced at the door. “Maybe we should talk about this inside…”

“No. Let’s have the conversation right here.”

Gaze narrowing, Jungkook returned to you. “I really think this is more of an inside the room conversation, Y/N.”

“You can’t tell me you want to go into the NHL in the hall?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I – what? Who told you that?”

“I saw your phone earlier,” you said, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “That NHL recruiter texted you – Bob Sutherland, right? I didn’t mean to see it, but it was right there on the bed, and I…”

Jungkook paused, then shook his head. “And you... waited this long to talk to me?”

“Um, hello?” you shot back. “Pot, this is kettle.”

He winced. “Okay, fine. I guess I deserve that. I just... didn’t want to say anything until I was sure this was even an option.”

Bleakly, you laughed. “What does that mean? You were only going to tell me once you’d decided? Maybe once you had your jersey and a new apartment in some other city?”

Jungkook’s expression darkened. “It’s not like that,” he said as you pulled away.

“It is like that,” you responded, stopping before the door. “Can you open this? I don’t have the room key.”

Jungkook didn’t move. “Y/N.”

“Open the door.”

“Y/N,” he said, softer this time.

You waited another moment, then slowly exhaled.

“What?” you said, glancing sideways.

This was a mistake, since Jungkook was an awful liar and you could tell he wasn’t lying right now. All his emotion was etched clear on his face – regret, uncertainty, and something more, something stronger. The feeble spark of anger in your stomach extinguished with a hiss.

Stepping forward, Jungkook placed both hands on your arms. “I didn’t want you to stress over nothing,” he said quietly. “That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you right away.”

Jaw tight, you glanced over his shoulder.

“I swear,” Jungkook continued. “It’s just… we haven’t been dating long and things are going so well. I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of dumb,” you muttered, moving your gaze to his. “You didn’t want to mess things up, so you kept something big from me?”

“Come on, Y/N,” he pleaded, frustration notched between his brows. “If I went into the NHL this year, I’d have to leave University before you. I’d have to move to whatever city picked me.”

“I know.”

“We only just started dating!” he said, looking tortured. “You only just started calling yourself my girlfriend. I didn’t want you to break up with me. Not when I don’t even know what I want. I don’t know if I want to go into the NHL this year. I just…”

He stopped and inhaled, looking helpless.

There was such confusion on his face, such ardent sincerity that whatever anger you felt began to ebb away. It didn’t vanish entirely; you still wish he would’ve told you, but looking at him, you understood why he did it.

“It’s... okay,” you said finally.

Jungkook glanced at you, uncertain.

“It’s okay,” you insisted, sliding both hands up his arms. “I… yeah. It’ll be fine, Jungkook. Now, will you listen to what I have to say?”

Although he seemed skeptical, he nodded.

“Jungkook.” You looked at him seriously. “This is your career, okay? This is your future. I’m not going to break up with you just because you graduate early.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered. “That’s a lot to ask. Long distance is hard, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“It’s unfair of me to ask you to do that.”

“I think I’ll decide what’s unfair to me, Jeon.”

“I just...” Running a hand through his hair, he left the strands ruffled in the back. “I needed more time. More time to figure out what I wanted, more time to make you…”

“Make me what?”

“Make you fall in love with me, too,” he said quietly.

You went still.

The hall around you fell silent – so quiet, you heard the sound of your heart beating. Or maybe that was his; the sound was too loud, whoever it belonged to. It drowned out all coherent thought and left a ringing noise in your ears.

Before you could respond, Jungkook shut his eyes.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I know it’s too soon. We haven’t been dating that long and fuck, I probably shouldn’t have said it like that. I should’ve done something romantic, right? With flowers and music and – I don’t know. I just love you, Y/N and it’s really hard to keep it in, when –”

Reaching up, you pressed your palms to his cheeks. “Jeon.”

He opened his eyes, face squished in your hands.

“I love you, too,” you said seriously.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he tried to speak, but the sound was constrained by your hands.

“Oops, sorry,” you said, releasing his face. “What was that?”

“You... love me,” he repeated, dumbfounded.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” Jungkook paused. “Huh.”

Futilely, you tried to hide your smile. “Is that seriously all you have to say?”

“Kind of.” Jungkook grinned but after a moment, his smile began to disappear. “I really am sorry I lied, Y/N. I promise I wouldn’t have kept it a secret much longer.”

“I know,” you said quietly, taking his hand. “I get why you did it. That’s a giant change to be thinking about.”

“It is, yeah.”

“But,” you added, grip tightening. “I love you, Jungkook. I want to be with you. You don’t have to hide these kinds of things from me.”

Wonderingly, his gaze roamed your face. “No?”

“No. We’ll work through it together. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, expression softening.

“Good.” You smiled. “You won’t scare me off, Jeon. Promise. Just tell me where your new apartment is and I’ll rack up frequent flyer miles.”

When Jungkook smiled, the corners of his eyes creased. “What if I decide to move to the moon?” he challenged.

“I might question your sanity, Jeon, but I wouldn’t be scared.”

“What if I decided to move to mars?”

“I might be a little scared,” you admitted. “Only because then, you’d probably be neighbors with Elon Musk.”

Jungkook laughed, reaching past to press his key card to the door. The light on the handle turned green, letting you in. Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you with, not bothering to turn on the lights.

As soon as the door fell shut behind you, Jungkook turned and pressed you to the wood. He immediately bent and began to kiss up your neck, placing one hand on the door and the other firmly around your waist. Pulling you close, he curved your body to his.

You found yourself no better, one hand sliding into his hair to open his mouth with your own. Jungkook groaned, his voice graveled, and the heat shot straight to your core.

“Jungkook,” you said, breaking away.

“Yeah?” he murmured, kissing back down your neck.

Heart stuttering, you forced yourself to focus. “I love you,” you whispered, your curving in the darkness.

It felt so good to finally say it out loud, to stop holding back what you had been feeling for some time.

Slowly, Jungkook bent to press his forehead to yours. “You sure?” he said quietly. “Don’t feel like you need to say it because I did. Just because I’m stupid in love with you doesn’t mean you need to be.”

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop being dumb and kiss me.”

Jungkook snorted when you grabbed his tie with one hand to pull him towards you. Elbow buckling, he pressed you against the door while his laughter fanned your face.

Tilting your head upwards, your lips lightly brushed. “Want to know what your present is?”

Jungkook answered immediately. “Yes.”

“It’s going to sound silly now that you told me you loved me.”

“Hey, you said it back!”

“I did.”

“… I still want to know what my present is.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, walking a hand up his chest. “Alright, so maybe I went into that one drawer of your nightstand.”

Jungkook stilled.

“And maybe I brought something for us to play with.”

In the darkness, you heard him audibly swallow.

“What… what did you decide to bring?”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you lifted your lips to his ear. “Maybe the handcuffs.”

The next moment happened faster than you could comprehend.

Seizing you around the waist, Jungkook picked you up to carry you towards the bedroom. You squealed, smacking his ass from your upside-down position. Ignoring you, Jungkook flipped on the light as he walked and, upon reaching the bed, deposited you on the mattress.

You bounced on the landing, grinning as you adjusted yourself on the duvet.

Jungkook had already begun to remove his tie. He paused with it half-undone, staring at you on the sheets. Wriggling your ass deeper, you arched a brow.

“Alright.” Jungkook placed his hands on both hips. “How do you want to do this?”

You grinned. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at your hands. “I mean – do you want to wear the cuffs, or should I? Should we do this on the bed? Do you want the cuffs on my wrists, or what?”

“Whoa,” you exhaled, sitting up. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

Jungkook paused, then nodded and smiled.

Leisurely, he began to walk towards your suitcase. He undid his cuffs as he walked, placing them on the nightstand before he bent to the zipper. Opening the flap, he scanned the inside and immediately spotted the handcuffs on top of your sweatpants.

Glancing over his shoulder, he arched a brow. “Really?”

“What?” you said, somewhat defensive. “I wanted to protect them from damage.”

Jungkook reached out and shut your suitcase. With the cuffs dangling from one hand, he stood and looked once more at you. A hunger had entered his gaze which made you squeeze your thighs together.

“Why don’t we start with you?” he said, moving closer. “I’ll make you feel good and then you can decide if you want to cuff me.”

“That sounds good,” you whispered.

Jungkook came to a stop at the foot of the bed. Gaze raking your frame, he traced every curve with an indecency bordering on obscene.

“I wasn’t kidding before,” he said, gaze lifting. “I want you naked except for those heels and your panties.”

A thrill traveled your spine, slowly extending your legs to stand from the bed. Without looking away, you reached behind your back to slowly unzip your zipper. You caught your dress before it fell, pressing it to your chest and keeping it there.

Jungkook exhaled. “The rest of it, sweetheart,” he said, sounding hoarse. “I want to see those pretty tits of yours on display.”

“Oh, do you?”

Teasing, you lowered the fabric until your nipples were practically visible. They caught at the fabric, pressed against silk while Jungkook swallowed hard.

“Yes, please,” he said.

Without looking away, you dropped your dress to the floor.

Jungkook sucked in a breath as he stared. His gaze trailed your breasts, rounded and peaked; the apex of your thighs, where you could already feel yourself slick with arousal. He glanced at your feet, still in the heels he said not to change out of.

A growl escaped him when he reached for his cock. Palming himself over his pants, Jungkook stared hard at your body.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, needing him to touch you.

His gaze snapped to yours. “Look at you,” he murmured, stepping closer. Sliding a hand to the back of your neck, he tilted your face up. “Nipples already hard for me.” Reaching out, he palmed your breast. “Is this pussy wet for me, too?”

“You know it is,” you said breathily.

Nose ghosting your neck, Jungkook traced a path down your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Gonna take a look.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Gonna see how wet I can get you – just me, though,” he said, stepping back. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself yet. Understand?”

Eager, you nodded.

It had been a few months since you started having sex and in that time, you had learned to read each other well. Jungkook knew that after a fight, you usually liked him to be in control. The mental exhaustion was tiring and you just wanted to come, and come hard.

“Good,” Jungkook said with a smirk. “Now, sit on the bed.”

Turning around, you sat and scooted until your back hit the headboard. Jungkook’s hands found his belt, slowly undoing each notch while you watched. Pulling this from the loops, he dropped it on the floor to shrug from his jacket.

Once free, he knelt one knee on the bed. “Spread your legs,” he said quietly. “Good girl.”

You obeyed, feeling liberated by the lack of control. You trusted Jungkook to take care of you, to listen to you and to know when to stop. It was part of what made sex which him better than anyone else. He understood you in a way you found hard to describe.

“Here?” you asked, spreading your legs on the sheets.

Jungkook moved towards you. “Here,” he agreed, slipping one metal cuff around your wrist.

You inhaled when he closed it, threading the links behind the bedpost and taking your other hand in his. He clicked the second cuff in place, leaving you with both arms overhead, splayed out on the mattress. Arching experimentally upwards, you found your arms restrained.

Withdrawing, Jungkook sat back on his heels. He stared at you a moment, then slid his hands up your torso. Almost recently, he bent his head to flick your nipple with his tongue.

“Oh,” you gasped, arching upwards.

Your wrists strained at the metal, but the sensation was more discomfort than actual pain. The fact that you couldn’t touch him had your skin on fire. Jungkook’s mouth was sloppy, teasing your nipples just the way you liked, urging them to peaks so he could suck with abandon. You arched on the mattress, the cold metal of handcuffs biting into your skin.

You hadn’t been lying – you’d never done this sort of thing with any previous boyfriend but with Jungkook, you found yourself wanting to explore. No one had ever made you feel this comfortable, this open and trusting he would make you feel good.

Switching to your other breast, Jungkook blew on it gently before taking it in his mouth. When he grazed you with his teeth, you let out a whimper and he sucked in earnest. The noises he made made your cheeks heat, your barely clothed core grinding against the duvet.

Your lace thong was sticky, drenched in evidence of easy arousal. Jungkook seemed to realize this as you did, his finger drifting to dip beneath the edge of the fabric. Reluctantly pulling away from your chest, Jungkook twisted the fabric to stare at your cunt.

Although you couldn’t see, you could feel how indecent it was. Drenched lace snagged in the folds of your pussy, revealing your glistening sex to his darkened gaze.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned, brushing his thumb up your folds.

The way you shuddered made him moan and he did it again. Jungkook’s thumb slid lower, lazily stroking the entrance of your pussy. He teased until you clenched around him with need, arousal dripping from your cunt to gather at your ass.

“Feet up.” Jungkook pulled back. “Thighs spread.”

You did as he said, placing your heels on the mattress to spread your legs. Jungkook’s jaw clenched at the sight, staring hazily at you like it was the first time. Immediately, he bent and lowered himself between your legs.

“Y/N,” he moaned, dragging his tongue up your sex.

You shuddered at this, tugging on your restraints, which held. Arching against him, you pushed your hips forward while Jungkook ate you out. He wasted no time, lips immediately wrapping around your swollen clit, coaxing you hard and fast towards your first orgasm of the night.

Sliding both arms under your thighs, Jungkook used them as leverage while he licked your pussy. Burying himself between your legs, he devoured you with such ecstasy, you could barely breathe.

The hard lines of his back strained against his shirt and you wished this was gone, wished you could see his pretty skin, but Jungkook seemed determined to make you come like this – his tongue buried in your cunt and his nose brushing your clit.

Your entire body seized, ready to come but then he pulled back and slid two fingers in at the hilt.

Gasping, your entire pussy quivered when his tongue returned to your clit. “Oh my god,” you blubbered, arching against him. “Oh my fucking god, Jungkook.”

His fingers were relentless, immediately fucking the warm wetness of your pussy. The squelch they made sliding in and out was obscene, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt too fucking good, with them pounding your cunt and making you see stars.

If you could have, you would’ve grabbed his hair and ridden his face, but you couldn’t. Instead, you arched as hard as you could and gripped your thighs together – Jungkook growled between them – unable to do anything but take it when he gave you your orgasm.

It crashed into you like a wave as you cried out in pleasure below him. You shuddered apart; Jungkook kept both arms wrapped around you until you were done. As the pleasure finally subsided, he gradually slowed his mouth to look up.

He grinned, lips red and wet from his exertions.

With a groan, you collapsed back on the bed. The metal bit into the skin of your wrists, your chest rising and falling while Jungkook shifted above you.

“You okay?” he asked gently, dropping a kiss to your lips.

You nodded, turning your head to capture him in a kiss. Jungkook kissed eagerly back, thighs settling on either side of your hips. He finally pulled away, reaching for the bedside to locate the key.

“Yeah,” you said, waiting for him to unlock the cuffs. “I feel really good, in fact.”

Jungkook grinned and released the cuff from your right wrist. You lowered your arm to your side while he undid the other, patiently waiting for your wrists to be freed. When you were, Jungkook bent his head to press his lips where the cuffs used to be.

He then moved to your feet – you had nearly forgotten you still wore your heels, but Jungkook slid them easily off to drop them to the floor.

You moved to sit up but Jungkook bent and kissed you again. His hands slid to your hair, thighs caging your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips. Desire lazily curled in your stomach; rather than sate you, your previous orgasm had left you hungry for more.

“Jungkook,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Why’s your shirt still on?”

Jungkook snorted and sat back, reaching for his front. Without looking away, he began to undo his buttons. He moved slowly, pushing each button through fabric at a maddening pace until you whined and pressed your hips up to his.

“Eager?” he teased, tugging an arm from the sleeve.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor, you sighed in satisfaction. No matter how many times you saw him, the sight of Jungkook shirtless never ceased to amaze.

“Wait – stay there,” you said, reaching to run a hand up his front.

One of Jungkook’s tattoos dipped to his pec, swirling above his dusky nipple in delicate lines. When your thumb casually brushed this, he shuddered.

Pleased, you looked up. “Sensitive, Jeon?”

“You know I am,” he grumbled, though he seemed far from perturbed. Gaze glinting in darkness, Jungkook lowered himself to his palms. “Do it again.”

You obeyed, casually dragging a finger over his pert, rosy nipple. Jungkook inhaled through his teeth, staring at you while you began to tease. When your fingers moved to his other nipple, he actually whined and lowered his head.

“Okay,” you said, making a decision. “I’m going to need you in those cuffs now.”

Jungkook lifted his head. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled.

He immediately sat back on his heels, shirtless and slacks strained across his erection. It was obvious from the way he sat it was uncomfortable and yet, Jungkook made no move to relieve himself. The sight sent a thrill down your spine.

This scenario had crossed your mind more than a few times, you had to admit. Having Jungkook seated before you, ready to do whatever you wanted. He was just so big and strong – the sight of him kneeling was more than you could bear.

“Scoot back,” you said, jerking your chin at the headboard.

Jungkook obeyed, scooting until he leaned against the latticed metalwork of the bed. Arching a brow, he asked, “What now?”

“Now,” you said, grabbing the handcuffs to move towards him. “I’m thinking about how I want you.”

He smirked. “What’re you thinking?”

“I could cuff you to the bed,” you wondered. “Or… no, I know what I want. Get back on your knees.”

Jungkook licked his lips and nodded, moving into position.

“Wait,” you said, making him pause. “Take off your pants first.”

He stopped and slid his hand under the top of his slacks. Undoing first the button, then the zipper, Jungkook slowly dragged them down muscular thighs. Once his slacks fell to his ankles, Jungkook kicked them to the floor.

“Now your boxers,” you instructed, gaze hungrily roaming his frame.

The handcuffs remained in your hand, but Jungkook paid them no attention while he stripped down to nothing. Keeping his gaze on yours, he dragged his boxers lower. The second his cock was freed, it sprang up to smack his muscled abs.

You nearly groaned at the sight of how hard he was. The tip of his cock was reddened and leaking, a thick bead of cum working its way down his shaft.

“Hands behind your back,” you said, lifting your gaze.

Jungkook did as he was told, the muscles in his biceps bulging as he went. Although you audibly swallowed, you pushed past this and went to attach the first cuff.

“Is this okay?” you asked, glancing up at his face.

Jungkook smirked. “Yeah. Put the other one on.”

Cheeks hated, you nodded and fastened the other behind his back. Jungkook exhaled, dark hair flopping forward while he experimentally tugged with his arms. The cuffs didn’t give. You stared at him a moment, drinking in the sight of him naked, kneeling and utterly yours.

Unable to stop it, you smiled.

Jungkook glanced up. “What’s that look for, baby?”

“Nothing,” you said, scooting backwards. “You just, um…”

“What?”

“Look fucking hot.”

His cheeks flushed, a fact you found endearing – even with his dick standing hard and thick between his thighs. Bending, you placed a hand on either side of his legs.

Curious, you looked up. “Have you ever done this before?”

Jungkook shook his head. “No. I never really… wanted to do this with anyone else.”

Warmth filled you, knowing exactly what he meant. There’d been no one else you trusted this much either. It was a strange thing to relinquish control, to surrender yourself to someone else and trust they wouldn’t hurt you.

“Same,” you whispered.

You bent and licked a strip up his cock.

Jungkook groaned, head rolling back as you teased his length. Sitting up, you spit in your palm to wrap most of the way around his cock. You began to slide up and down and Jungkook exhaled, thighs twitching beneath your palm. His eyes drifted shut, enjoying your touch as you stroked his dick.

Seeing the way his arms strained at the cuffs, you grinned. “Enjoying yourself?”

He cracked open an eye. “Wanna touch you,” he said.

“Too bad,” you sing-songed, bending to wrap your lips around his cock.

Jungkook groaned, straining once more against the cuffs. You refused to take him all in your mouth at one go, sucking on the tip before tracing his sensitive head with your tongue. Jungkook exhaled, hips pushing forward in an attempt to coax you further onto his dick.

Pulling back, you left him with a pop. “Uh-uh,” you said. “You’re not the one in control here, Jeon. I am.”

“Oh, yeah?” A devilish glint entered his eyes. “Prove it.”

Heart pounding, you pushed yourself up and moved closer. Sliding a hand into his hair, you angled his head to kiss him on the lips. Jungkook melted forward, lips chasing yours before you pulled back.

Settling just beyond his reach, you smiled and let your hand return to his cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whimpered.

“In a bit,” you answered, thumb brushing his tip.

Jungkook’s tongue poked the side of his cheek, staring while you continued your motions. Head lowering, you took him again in your mouth and slid partway down. Lifting off, you trailed his frenulum with your tongue and then bent to take him all the way.

“Shit,” Jungkook gasped, staring while you deep-throated his cock. “Fuck – that feels so good, baby. Ah.”

His hips bucked when you took him deeper and in response, you pulled back.

“Nope,” you said with a smirk. “Every time you do that, I’ll stop. Keep still, baby,” you said, continuing to fist him with one hand. “You can do that for me, right? Be a good boy?”

Jungkook’s gaze turned heavy with desire. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I’ll be so fucking good for you, baby. Promise.”

Taking him back in your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to move faster. Balancing both palms on his thighs, you forced your head down until you gagged on his cock. Pulling back, you let spit break over your lip and fisted him roughly, making him sloppy and wet.

Jungkook whimpered again, straining at the cuffs. His nipples were rock hard and upon seeing this, you lifted to lick over a nub.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook blurted, hips thrusting forward.

You let him fuck your hand for a few seconds, his hard length chasing the warmth of your hand. And then you pulled away, relinquishing your grip and Jungkook’s eyes widened, realizing what he’d done.

“No,” he groaned, chest sagging.

He looked utterly defeated by the realization you might stop – or at the very least, you’d make him work for it harder. The only thing wrong with this assumption was that you were now obscenely horny and just wanted him inside you.

“It’s okay, baby.” Using the same hand, you lifted his chin. “You did so well, lasting for me as long as you did.”

Jungkook looked at you, hopeful. “So, you’ll let me come?”

“Oh. No.” His face fell. “At least,” you allowed, positioning yourself over his cock, “not until I feel you inside me.”

It had been a few weeks since you had stopped using condoms. Soon after you started dating, you decided to get tested since you were already on the pill. It was worth it the first time he came inside you and swirled his fingers through the mess.

Jungkook watched you remove your sodden panties, dropping them on the floor and returning to his lap. Lowering yourself, you let the soaked folds of your center gently brush his cock. Jungkook hissed as though you had wounded him, straining against the cuffs like he could break them.

Immediately, you stopped. “Jungkook?” you asked, gaze roaming his face in concern. “Are you still okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, practically panting. “Fuck, yeah. I’m good, but I need to be inside you. Now.”

“So impatient,” you tsk-d, reaching to grasp his cock beneath you. One hand on his shoulder, you began to lower yourself on his length.

Just his tip entered at first, parting the velvet walls of your sex and making you moan. You’d already come once tonight, but with how tight you were, that seemed a distant memory. Sliding your hand lower on his cock, you dropped yourself lower to take him inside you.

Jungkook stared; transfixed by the sight of him entering your pussy. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “Feel stretched enough, baby? Need anything from me?”

“N-no,” you stuttered, already feeling the burn.

He looked up and arched a brow. “How about this?” he murmured, shifting his weight. “Since I can’t use my hands or my tongue on your pussy, how about I get you wet like this?”

“Like what?”

“Take your hand off my cock so you can touch yourself,” he suggested sweetly. “Put your finger in my mouth first, though. Wanna taste you.”

You obeyed, thighs trembling as you released him and brought your finger to his lips. Jungkook opened, wrapping his lips around your digit to easily suck. You inhaled at the sight, thoroughly aroused as you felt yourself slip another inch on his length.

Jungkook released your finger. “Now put that hand between your thighs,” he said, waiting for you to do so. “There you go, baby. I know how swollen your clit was when I sucked on you earlier. Is it still like that? Still puffy and needy for me?”

Slipping your hand between your legs, you circled your sex. “Yeah,” you breathed, sinking down on him another inch. “It’s still like that.”

“Good.” Jungkook smirked. “Give it a pinch, then slowly rub it.”

The second you did this, a wave of pleasure swept through you.

“Again,” Jungkook said.

You did it again.

“And again.”

This time when you did it, you felt your hips settle against his. Glancing down in surprise, you realized his cock had nestled all the way inside you – his thick girth split you so prettily, the wetness of your pussy soaked into his base.

“Oh,” you exhaled, looking up.

Jungkook’s eyes glinted. “Ride me.”

The way he spoke sparked fire in your veins, reaching for his shoulders as you slowly moved upwards. Once you were nearly empty, you dropped to take him all in one motion. You gasped at the sensation, head tipping back as you did it again.

Gripping his shoulders, you controlled the pace to slowly move up and down. You went purposefully slower, reveling in the feeling of him being inside you, the sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took.

Leaning onto your palms, you lifted your hips and sunk down on his cock. You swiveled your hips as you went, letting him feel how wet you were for him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned, taking a deep breath.

His gaze roamed your chest, rising and falling with your hips; your cunt, swallowing him whole to drip onto his thighs. A moan left him at the sight of your clit, so swollen and pretty but unable to touch.

“Baby,” he moaned.

“Yeah?”

Sitting up straight, you let him fall from your body and repositioned yourself above him. Sinking down on his length, you slid both hands to his hair and eagerly kissed him. Your chests brushed as you rode him, rolling your hips over his massive cock.

Growing impatient, Jungkook finally snapped his hips upwards. “Please,” he panted, lips dropping down your throat. “Please undo the cuffs, Y/N. I need to fuck you.”

“Okay,” you agreed, reaching beside you to grab the key.

It took you a few seconds to unlock a cuff and the moment you did, Jungkook moved. He didn’t wait for the other one to be released – pushing you back on the bed, he hiked your leg up and buried himself in you to the hilt. Lips parted, you stared at him dazed as he suddenly filled you. The stretch felt so fucking good, your eyes watered.

Softening, Jungkook brushed a kiss to your lips. “That okay?” he murmured, reaching down for your clit.

It was swollen, like he said and your eyes nearly rolled back as he began to play with you.

“Oh my god, yes,” you mumbled, stretched out beneath him. “Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me hard.”

His gaze immediately darkened. “Alright, baby.”

Knowing exactly what you meant by this, Jungkook pulled out. He flipped you over, pulling your ass in the air so your pussy was on display. His fingers swiped at your entrance, feeling how soaked you were before he lined himself up and plunged inside you. It was a more intense stretch this way – his cock hit so deeply like this, filling you up with a despondency you craved.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, chest pressed to the bed.

Your thighs were eagerly spread, Jungkook’s hands on your hips while he fucked himself into you. Each time he filled you left you groaning, your pussy deliciously stretched by his massive cock.

“That’s it,” Jungkook grunted, fingers gripping your waist. “God, you take my cock so well, baby. Such a good little slut for me.”

He paused, waiting for your reaction and you moaned in response. You weren’t always in the mood, but sometimes all you wanted was to be called his filthy whore. Wanted Jungkook to use your pussy like his cum dump, fucking you over and over like he couldn’t control it.

“That’s right,” you groaned, spreading your legs wider. “All yours, baby.”

Jungkook grunted and spanked you, jolting you forward. Your ass quivered when he did this again, timing his efforts with each thrust of his cock.

“Fuck yeah, it’s for me,” he panted. “Got you on all fours like a bitch in heat. You just want to be stuffed full of cock – right, baby? Want your pussy fucked full of cum?”

“Yes,” you moaned, pushing back. “Full of your cum, Jungkook. Oh.”

“That’s right – only my cum,” he said, satisfied. “Only my dick knows how to fuck you this good.”

You moaned, unable to be more coherent than that.

“You think the rest of the floor can hear you?” Jungkook mused, his hips never wavering. “Think they can hear you moaning my name, making such a sweet mess of my cock? Think they’re all jealous they don’t have a perfect pussy like yours?”

“Fuck, Jungkook!” you gasped, arching your back.

He spanked you again. “Hope they can all hear what a perfect slut you are. How nicely you take a big cock, how much you like being fucked full of my cum.”

Reaching down, Jungkook slipped an arm under your chest. He lifted you against him, pressing his chest to yours from behind. His hips never ceased, his cock continuing to split you open while he fucked like that. You could feel yourself quivering, core clenching hard on his cock while you neared your next orgasm.

Which is why it felt so sudden when Jungkook decided to pull out.

“Jungkook!” you gasped, sagging in his hold.

Your head spun, wanting – needing – to come and if it weren’t for his arms around you, you would have collapsed to the sheets. Jungkook kissed your neck once before he turned you around and laid you down on the bed. It was necessary for him to take the lead since your thighs were still shaking.

Balancing his weight on his palms, Jungkook gave you a shy smile. “I just…” He shook his head. “I wanted to see you.”

Melting at his words, you stared back at him. His gaze was so open, so hopeful that you lifted your arms and pulled his chest down to yours.

“Wanna see you too,” you whispered, kissing him softly.

Jungkook reached down to position himself between your thighs and this time when he filled you, it felt different. He began to move slowly, rolling his hips while he kissed down your throat.

Each thrust he gave was deep, purposeful, and designed to complete you. It did – no, he did, you realized as your arms slid around him. When he fucked you like that, each roll of his hips brushed your clit and soon enough you found yourself right back on the edge.

“Jungkook,” you groaned, pressing your face to his shoulder.

Your fingers dug into his skin, hips chasing his while he buried himself inside you. Over and over, his cock hit that place deep inside which made you cry out beneath him.

“Oh,” you gasped, clutching him tighter. “Jungkook.”

Dropping to one elbow, he began to fuck you faster. Grabbing one of your knees, he hiked this over your waist and began to thrust harder, driving you towards your orgasm.

“Love you,” he murmured, hips chasing yours. “Fuck.” Jungkook sighed. “So glad I can say that now.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, fingers curling into his hair.

With each thrust he gave, you felt yourself closer to falling apart. His heat was everywhere – on your lips, on your neck, with his thick cock inside you. It was nearly unbearable, how full of him you felt.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, burying your face in his chest. “P-please. Come inside me. Wanna feel you.”

“Yeah?” His breath hitched. “You want me to fill you up? Get this pussy all messy with my cum?”

“Please, Jungkook,” you gasped.

“You first,” he demanded, thrusting into you with an intensity which stole the breath from your lungs.

Gasping him by the shoulders, you felt yourself clench as he fucked you harder. When you came, it was with his name on your lips and his cock inside you. Feeling you clench tightly around him, Jungkook swore and gave several deep thrusts.

It was only a few seconds later you felt him release, hot spurts of cum filling up your cunt. There was so much of it, your pussy eagerly taking until it couldn’t take anymore. You felt some of it dribble out the sides, sliding to your ass from your fucked-out hole. Jungkook stayed there as long as he could, pushing his cum deeper inside you with each lazy thrust.

Your sensitivity was overwhelming but you pushed through it, wanting him to stay inside you as long as possible. Arms wrapped around him, you pulled his chest down to yours and smiled happily upwards, feeling his cock soften inside you.

Jungkook brushed a kiss to your forehead. “Y/N…”

“Yeah?”

“Can we get this other cuff off me?”

Snorting, you looked and realized he still had the cuffs attached to his left wrist. Twisting beneath him – Jungkook whined when he slipped out – you reached for the key. He immediately brightened once the cuff was released.

You grinned. “Better?”

“Better,” Jungkook said, flopping back down.

“Jungkook!” you grunted when he landed on your hips.

“Hm?”

“I need to get up.”

“No, you don’t.” He pancaked on top of you and grinned. “See? Now you’re trapped.”

Laughing, you grabbed for his bare ass. “I really have to get up,” you said. “All your cum is still inside me, Jeon.”

“Damn, okay,” he said, shaking his head. “If that’s a hint, fine. I’ll eat it out of you, just give me a minute.”

Your eyes widened, intrigued by this idea but you pushed it aside. “No – now, Jeon,” you said.

Jungkook grinned. “Alright,” he exhaled, rolling off. “But come back here soon!”

“Or else what?” you said, swinging your legs over the bed.

“Or else I’ll be lonely.”

When he exaggeratedly pouted, you laughed.

Stretching both arms overhead, you made your way towards the bathroom. Your entire body felt sated; full of that heavy-limbed sensation which only came from a mind-blowing orgasm. At the bathroom you paused and looked over your shoulder.

Jungkook remained on the bed, hair rumpled and clothing still on the floor. He looked gorgeous, but that wasn’t what first crossed your mind. The first thing you thought was you wanted more nights like this in the future.

Not just the sex part (although that would be nice), but this. Him in your bed, ready to go to sleep next to you. Ready to wake up in the morning. Laughing and talking and just being together.

It was easy to picture yourself doing this with him five years from now, twenty, even fifty. Realizing this, you paused and waited for the panic to come.

Nothing happened and after a moment, you exhaled.

Jungkook glanced up from the bed, caught you looking and smiled – which sent a wave of rightness through you. This might be it, you realized. He might be it.

Oddly enough, the thought didn’t scare you at all.

Author’s Note: Thank you very much for reading!

THE ART OF MORE CHARACTER ASK GAME

#btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook writing #bts fluff #bts writing

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constant-creative-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing with mha characters

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

kiri would ask you out of the blue, you two would probably be hanging out in his dorm one night and he’d just ask

like “baby, dance with me? 🥺”

he’d have his arms around you’re waist ofc, and he’d lay your head against his chest so you can hear his heart beat

he isn’t a good dancer but it’s all good, as long as you’re happy then he’s happy to dance with you

he wouldn’t do much other than sway, considering his poor skills

but he’d definetly him along to the songs

speaking of the songs, he’d probably play really cheesy love songs because he’s like that

laughs everytime either he or you messes up, he finds it amusing

ends up goofing off more towards the end

rating: 100/10, in conclusion, i love kirishima

you sat on kirishima’s bed, stretched out comfortably. your back against his headboard and his head in your lap, your fingers scratching gently against his scalp. he hummed along to the music playing, some song made a few years ago.

the song changed and he looked up at you, excitement flickering in his eyes, “baby, wanna dance with me?”

you stopped scratching his scalp for a moment, thinking about it. you smiled and nodded.

“yeah, i do, kiri,”

you’d have to ask him, like a lot

be persistent!!

it’s not that he doesn’t want to dance with you

it’s just that he has no fucking clue how to dance and doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he’s just s u c h a great dancer and doesn’t want to make you feel bad about your skills

no but he’s struggling,, he has no idea what he’s doing

“katsuki, just put your hands on-” “tch, i know what i’m doing dumbass”

he figures it out eventually, he had one had on your hip and the other holding yours

he buried his head in your neck so you don’t see his blush

he’s practically silent, only speaking to make a remark when you trip

he actually finds it really endearing

rating: katsuki, marry me

“katsuki, you gotta take a break. it isn’t good for you to keep at it like this,” you said rubbing his shoulder.

“yeah and what else would i do?” he grumbled, pushing his hand further down the pencil.

bakugou had been working non-stop on homework since he’d returned to the dorms that day. he had yet to take a break and he needed it, and you were about to force him into relaxing for a bit if he spent another second writing.

a small sigh left him before reaching up and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. He rubbed small shapes with his thumb and apologized.

“if you dance with me then we’ll be even,”

“alright shitty-(feature),” he paused before looking up at you through his eyelashes, “you and dancing.”

boy oh boy, sero and you dance so often

he loves dancing with you and DAMN is he good at it

he’ll dance with you at any point in time, for any reason

he spins you a lot, he’ll even lift you a little if he’s feeling it

it’s super playful

he dips you all the time

baby has the moves and loves teaching you

he’ll dance to any song, especially if you’re with him

he’s always laughing either you or talking to you while you dance together

rating: 10000/10, dancing king, only seventeen 🎶

“Mi sol, when did you get so good at this?”

sero spun you wildly in the spot, twirling you under his hand. you laughed and tumbled into his chest, still seeing the room spin around you. sero pulled back slightly to see you and your unfocused eyes.

“beginners bad luck finally wore off, i guess!”

he smiled down at you, waiting for you to lose the dizzy feeling of turning like that. he enjoyed your smile while you watched the room. but the second you’re eyes focused again he was moving around the room with you again.

“you’d best not drop me, hanta-”

he’d take you out dancing

endeavour payed for dance lessons when he was a kid - he couldn’t have his prodigy dancing like an idiot

this is an endeavour hate page

he took formal dancing lessons and would 100% take a while to loosen up with you

but he holds you very delicately, with one hand on the small of you’re back and the other holding yours

as he loosens up and relaxes he holds you closer to him

and i mean this is shouto todoroki we’re talking about, he’s quiet the whole time

he just watches you with a small smile on his face, cute as fuck-

would teach you to ballroom dance at some point, if you didn’t know

rating: 15/10, he’s a rich boy, he knows his moves

“sho, this is wonderful,” you grinned at him, “really, i appreciate this.”

he returned the smile, taking your hand in his and pulling you forward on to the dance floor. you straightened your clothes out and took his lead. the two of you began moving around the room together, following the rhythme of the song playing.

“you know how to dance formally?” he asked, watching you move with grace.

“i have no clue what i’m doing, i’m just following you,”

you’d ask and he’d: “y-you want to- i mean i’m not a good dancer- are you sure?? why??”

he’s so nervous, just give him some reassurance and he’ll be fine

he is always making sure he isn’t making you uncomfortable

he’d let you pick the music or chose from your playlist

he’d hold you by the hips after asking a few times if that was okay

he isn’t the best but he picks it up pretty quickly

he probably asked iida for dance lessons after this

n e ways, he’d probably be red the whole time

rating: 12/10, his nervousness is actually really endearing

he put his hands on your hips and pulled you toward him, glancing up to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, moving closer to him. you started swaying to the song playing and he followed your lead. the two of you starting to step around.

“are you sure you’re okay with this,” he tapped his fingers against your hip.

you hummed and rested your head on his shoulder, finding dancing with him comforting, “ ‘s okay, izuku. i promise.”

he kissed you on the crown of your head and continued moving to the music. he started relaxing and fully taking in the moment.

tenya iida, my main man,, he also got dance lessons when he was younger

fuckin rich boy

he short circuited when you asked, just give him a moment

he was probably super excited but kept it under control

he almost certainly played some sort of ballroom music (does that make sense??)

mans full on waltzed with you-

but he’d also do a more casual dance if you wanted

he held you small of your back and waist, he’s very careful not to make you uncomfortable

he’d only be goofy if you guys are just fooling around and making jokes while dancing

other than that he’s pretty quiet

rating: 20/10, tenya please wear some goddamn contacts during training

“y/n, i’m so sorry,” iida flushed deeply, stopping his movements.

despite his time practicing dance and his thought out movements, he’s stepped on your foot. he was apologizing profusely while you just stood and laughed lightly, watching his arm chop down.

“i’m sorry, i should have watched my step and- wait are you laughing?”

“iida, it’s okay. you have nothing to worry about.”

he’d probably just randomly start dancing with you

like you could be dancing around while cleaning and he’d just join you

baby can’t dance, he just can’t

but he acts like he can

would twirl you constantly and he’d try to dip you but fail miserably 😭

electric slide lookin ass

probably just starts his playlist and dances to random songs

he’s so goofy omg-

doesnt stop laughing or teasing you

rating: 30/30, sounds like a vibe

“you’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal!”

denki stood on his toes, head tipped downward, and his hand positioned like he was dipping a fedora. at this point he had crashed into the table and knocked a chair over. this man was to never be trusted near anything fragile.

he took your hand and spun you around him, trying to keep you from the chair on the floor. after he spun you he spun himself, this time tripping over the chair and tumbling into the fridge.

“denki are you okay? are you okay, denki?” you sang along with the song playing.

sunshine man, he would 100% dance with you

but you’d have to ask, the thought just wouldn’t come to his mind

and he is worse than denki

but he has so much fun with it that it doesn’t matter

he spins you and lifts you, it’s so fun

he’s so goofy and playful, not a serious moment

he accidentally activated his quirk while dipping you, that hurt

but he loves dancing with you

and he pokes fun at his own dancing, he finds it really amusing

and he hyped you up so much

rating: 1000000/10, overall a perfect experience

a squeal left your mouth as your feet left the ground, mirio’s hands clutching your waist tightly. you grabbed on to his shoulders to keep yourself steady. he put you back on the ground and continued dancing along to the music. he shimmed his shoulders and bopped his head to the beat. or at least tried.

“i know that you can’t help but watch my horrible dancing but you gotta dance with me, can’t be the only bad dancer here!”

you shook your head and took his hands, shimmying along with him. man was mirio was a bad dancer but he made it so much fun

you’d ask him and he would just not get why you’d wanna dance with him

he wouldn’t object to it, it’s just that he’s sure that he’s a bad dancer and that others are so much better and

would hide his face in your neck and hold you really tightly to him

and he’s so nervous

if he stepped on you he’d let go of you and just stand in a corner for hours

but honestly, he’s actually a really good dancer

if you guys dance more he’ll start goofing off and doing stuff like spinning you

probably doesn’t put on music and if he did it would be off of his chill playlist

rating: 80/10, might be my ideal situation

you and amajiki had barely moved from where you guys started, not that it mattered. you two had been swaying more than dancing, but it was peaceful and relaxing. that’s what mattered. he had he’s arms wrapped tightly around your torso and his head was hidden in your neck. you felt his smile and uneven breathes brushing against your skin.

some old slow song played from your phone, one he chose. both of you were happy with the closeness and intimacy of the moment, but tamaki was happy he just hadn’t stepped on you. god that would have killed him. but he had yet to, and he was thankful.

“thank you, tama,” you smiled gently, “this is nice.”

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wonlouvre · 3 years ago

Note

helllo~~ I just saw that you opened your drabble requests again and I would like to ask if you could write a drabble with Joshua Hong where he and the reader both had a hard day and get into a little fight during dinner but at the end they end up apologizing and cuddling on the couch?🥺 thank you a lot in advance and have a wonderful day!!

peckish | h. js.

pairing: non-idol!joshua x g.n. reader genre: a little bit of angst (they argue), fluff warnings: mentions of food, eating, nitpicking and nagging word count: 1k+

💌: thank you for requesting anon! :’) as usual, i made some changes here and there if you don’t mind. i hope you like it anon! pls tell me what you think about it <3

You and Joshua decided to move in together during the second year of your relationship. The memory of you discussing that particular stage of your relationship is still fresh in your memories. Funnily enough, moving in together was more about being practical rather than being romantic. Your apartment was both far from your job and him. It’s not that you wouldn’t go the distance for your boyfriend, but the frequent two hour travels are tiring and the cost of living is still getting more and more expensive as the days go by.

If your memories serve you right, it was around two months later when the two of you found the perfect unit. It was awkward and annoying during the first few months. You two were navigating through the ups and downs of living together 24/7. You both have the tendency to nitpick and nag over the smallest of things incessantly. Once one of you starts, the other follows and it’s not cute.

But along the way, the two of you got the hang of it. Not for the sake of just coexisting but you two reached a compromise without hurting or disregarding each other’s feelings. You talked through it and respected each other’s concerns, complaints, wants and needs.

And now, there’s only about a week left and you’d be celebrating five years as a couple and three years of living together.

Petty arguments still happened and are still happening occasionally, but you guys do your very best to not let it get the best of you. And speaking of arguments, on this one particular tiring day, another one is budding.

“I told you not to put tomatoes,” you complain under your breath while poking your fork on the meal your dearest boyfriend cooked for dinner. “I’ve told you this countless times before and until now. Do you even listen to what I say?”

Joshua continues to eat, completely unbothered. “And I told you before to put your socks on the hamper after every use and yet we’re still here. Who’s not listening now?”

The tomato is red which is very similar to how you’re registering the dining table now. Blood is even rushing to your face and you can feel the heat. Your grip on the fork loosens and you drop it on the plate, a loud clunk booming across the quiet room.

“Are you serious? You're doing this to me over socks?” You question and glare at Joshua’s handsome face.

Joshua also stops eating and picks up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his lips clean. “Y/N, you’ve never complained about the tomatoes I put on our meals because you know it’s part of the recipes. Why are you suddenly whining about them?”

You are so irritated, you can hear your heart pounding on your chest. Tears are starting to line your eyes and you could cry anytime now. You get like this when you’re having a bad day. Work and the people you work with have not been the kindest today and you were hoping a nice warm meal with your boyfriend could help ease your stress and anger.

“I’m complaining about them because I don’t like them and I’m awfully tired and just want to eat something,” you say before standing up.

You don’t want Joshua to see you crying over this because you yourself find this embarrassing and unnecessary to argue about. Who knows? Maybe Joshua is also having a bad day and seeing the socks you forgot to remove from your shoes must have ruined his day further.

“Y/N,” your boyfriend calls for you, his voice tired but still gentle. “Where are you going? You haven’t finished eating.”

“I’m not that hungry anymore,” you say and finally walk off to your shared bedroom.

You know you should have put those socks on the hamper. You had every intention to do so. It’s just that you were in desperate need to shower the day away and take a short nap before your boyfriend comes back home and have dinner with him. You always listen to Joshua and his reminders and you know he’s no different. You just thought he wouldn’t see or at least he could have let it pass just this one time.

But then again, no matter how many excuses and rebuttals the two of you make, it was still wrong for you and him to take your anger out on each other.

The moment you left Joshua alone at the dining table, regret immediately started to eat you up. It felt terrible, you could feel it in your stomach grumbling and heart clenching. You take a breather and wash your frustrations away. After not more than fifteen minutes later, you silently and carefully tread back to the kitchen, where your boyfriend is washing the dishes alone.

You did not hesitate to walk closer to him and circle your arms around his waist. Joshua jumps a little, surprised by your touch but doesn’t move away and just continues with what he was doing.

“I’m sorry,” you say, words muffled because your face is snuggled to his back. “I’ll put my socks on the hamper next time.”

You know Joshua’s silently smiling and laughing with how he’s upper body is shaking. Just right then, the water stops from running and he’s turning around to face you. You keep your arms on his waist and lean your chin up to his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat. He’s smiling at you when he leans down to kiss your forehead, long and sweet.

“Let me wash up so that we can go to bed. How’s that sound?” Joshua offers and you can never be more than happy.

Your bedroom and bed is the best place in this apartment (Joshua thinks it’s the kitchen but you’re not having it at the moment). It’s warm and cozy. It’s even warmer and cozier when your boyfriend is with you on it. You’re so blessed and grateful to always begin and end the day with him.

“I’m sorry about the tomatoes,” Joshua says against the top of your head and tugs you closer to his chest. “I’ll try to be discreet about adding them next time I cook.”

You can’t help but giggle, nuzzling your nose to his warm chest. “It’s okay. I’ll just set them aside or give them to you.”

“Bad day, huh?”

“Yeah. You too?”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry baby,” you apologize again and kiss the side of his neck. “I’ll cook you breakfast tomorrow.”

“Stop apologizing.” Joshua jokingly glares, but fails anyway because his eyes just sparkle all the time. He kisses your forehead for the nth time in return. “I want pancakes please.”

“Noted.” You keep his request in mind right at the moment you start to yawn.

“I love you always,” Joshua says wholeheartedly.

“I love you always,” you also say, wholeheartedly.

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sinfulcries · 4 years ago

Note

reader filming him and kenma fucking without his consent and black mailing him the next day, telling kenma that he won't leak the video if kenma becomes his slave. despite reader being toxic, kenma catches feelings for him and when he confesses, reader says he feels the same way and fucks kenma only to crush kenma's hopes by saying he was just joking & that he would never like him hehe.

tokyo afternoons . kenma x male reader

authors notes. holy shit this was really long and it took me a few weeks to write. i was planning on writing 2 smuts for this but i lost inspiration at the end </3 anyways, virgin kenma hits differently

word count. 3.1k

tw. blackmail, non consensual filming, manipulation, toxic && douche-y reader, sadistic reader, virginity loss, corruption, size difference, unprotected sex, ignorant kuroo, obsession, spitting, noncon at the end.

The air was hot. Tokyo has always been so warm but it was never this hot. Kenma’s pale skin started to sweat, cheeks flushed as golden eyes peered at the man who was sitting beside him. You always left a warm feeling in his chest-- always left his heart drumming loudly whilst his cheeks were flushed a bright red. You were addictive, one of the people who managed to effortlessly bring a smile on to Kenma’s face.

“You’re staring at me.” You broke the comfortable silence with a chuckle, Kenma snapping out of his trance as he turned away to avoid your hot gaze. “Sorry,” Muttering a half hearted response in reply, the blonde averted his gaze to the sky-- watching the harsh sunlight spread over tokyo’s vast horizon. “You know, You look really pretty when you were staring at me earlier.” Another sentence that came out of your mouth broke the comfortable silence once again, and Kenma eyed you cautiously, not wanting to believe the compliment.

“Do you say that to every person you hook up with?” Furrowing your eyebrows at his response, you planted your arms on top of your thighs, resting your head in the comfort of your palms as you looked at the shorter blonde seated beside you. “Believe it or not, I’ve only said that to you.”

A sweet-talker. That’s what you were. Trying to lure Kenma in with your velvety voice and your captivating stare. Again, you were addicting. And Kenma was bewildered that he managed to hook up with you, the most popular and well loved guy in his university. “You seem like the type of person to call your partner a slut in public.”

“I do call my partner’s ‘slut’ in public. Not with you though.” You snorted, grinning as you faced the sky, taking occasional glances at the male. “And why is that?” Confusion laced in his voice, and eyes narrowed at your taller figure, you only smiled softly in response, lashes fluttering against soft skin as you whispered faintly, “You’re just different.”

Kenma could barely form a response with how his skin turned hot quickly-- The heat of the sun accompanied by your words only making him more of a mess than he already was. Hearing the speakerphone play the familiar tone signalling that their break was over, you grabbed the back of the smaller boy’s neck before pulling his head in to connect your lips with his. You took the opportunity to tug on his bottom lip between your teeth before pulling away.

“I’ll see you at my place, Kozume.” You sing-songed whilst simultaneously standing up to catch your next class. Kenma was left to stare at your retreating form, cheeks dusted with red as he felt the warmth in his chest spread every time he thought of your lips on his own once more.

Time seemed to tick slowly-- and Kenma had to begrudgingly go through the whole day without thinking of you or the intimate little moment that you had with him a few hours ago. It was pure torture-- not having you by his side or seeing your smile or hearing your shameless attempts at flirting. It was embarrassing, but he knew that he was getting used to you and your presence. Running a hand through his coarse hair, he spotted you leaning against the wall outside of his classroom, a greasy smile plastered on your face as you diverted your attention from the ladies beside you to the small blonde.

Kenma’s heart dropped. He knew you were popular and that he didn’t have the right to get jealous because you were never his to begin with, but did that intimate moment mean nothing to you? Did that kiss mean nothing to you? He was snapped out of his thoughts when you tapped his shoulder once again-- your deep voice ringing in his ears as you cupped his cheek tenderly. “-ma, Kenma hey?”

“Sorry I zoned out again.” He apologised, forgetting about what upset him for a moment before removing your calloused hand that rested on his cheek. You frowned at the action but soon relaxed, taking his small hand in your own. “Don’t worry about it. Should we get going?” You asked, and Kenma tensed, heaving a sigh as he mustered the courage to remove his hand from your hold.

“I don’t think i can go to your place today. Just choose one of those girls to go instead.” he murmured, bowing dejectedly. Tilting your head in confusion, you slowly grabbed his chin, tilting his head softly so that his golden orbs could meet yours. “Are you jealous, Ken?” you cooed, pressing another kiss onto his lips as he could only hear the whispers of his classmates in the background.

Kenma started shaking, instinctively moving closer towards you, turning his head so that he could bury his face into your chest. Noticing Kenma’s change of behaviour, you glared at the group of girls gossiping, instantly shutting them up. “Mind your own business.” Your loud voice was heard throughout the semi-crowded hallway and the people who had witnessed the sight of you kissing kenma nodded frantically, scrambling away to leave you and kenma to your own devices.

“They’re gone now baby. You can stop hiding.” Grabbing his hips gently, the blonde slowly scanned his surroundings before hugging you again, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you stroked his hair soothingly, “T-Thank you.”

Smiling fondly you replied, “No problem. Let’s go, baby.”

As the two of you made your way towards your apartment, Kenma couldn’t help but stare at your taller figure, huddling closer to your side once he felt the chilly afternoon air hitting his skin. “We’re almost there, kitten. Sorry I didn’t bring my jacket.” You apologised, instead removing your blazer and placing it on top of his shoulders. “You’ll get cold, y/n.” Kenma murmured worriedly, “I’ll be fine baby, don’t worry.”

His chest rose and fell quietly. The faint sounds of footsteps and your occasional humming were the only sounds that he could hear in the empty street. You both arrived at your place quite quickly. You politely opened the door for the setter, leaving your backpacks at the doorstep and discarding your shoes before making your way towards the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat, Ken?” You called out, opening your fridge to scan over the snacks you had.

“No thank you.” Kenma declined from the couch, unbuttoning the first top buttons of his dress shirt and tossing his tie to the side. “Suit yourself.”

Making your way towards Kenma’s hunched form-- a grin wormed its way onto your lips, ruffling his hair once you crept up behind him. “Wanna go to my room instead? You can lay down more comfortably over there.”

Kenma gratefully accepted your offer, taking small and reluctant steps towards the mattress. “A-Are you sure I can lay down here?” The blonde shyly inquired, unable to focus once your scent hit his nose. You smelt so good-- fresh and clean, just the way Kenma liked it. You laughed at his flustered expression once more, jumping onto your mattress before pulling him in so that he was on top of you. “You’re light.”

“A-And you’re really warm....” His voice was so faint that you could barely hear it. Kenma looked to face you, cheeks dusted with red as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering i-if you c-could…” Kenma tried his best not to stutter.

“If I could, what, kitten?”

Closing his eyes, Kenma took a deep breath before murmuring, “If you could kiss me again....”

Not giving the setter a chance to repeat himself, you leaned in to kiss him-- snaking an arm around his slim waist possessively as you started to jerk your hips against his clothed cock. Kenma whimpered into the kiss, eyes shut tightly as he failed to notice your free hand propping your phone on the nightstand-- giving the camera a perfect view of what you were doing to the poor boy.

“Ruin me, y/n-kun~” Kenma didn't have to tell you twice before a dark smirk made its way onto your lips-- hitting the ‘record’ button before trailing your kisses downwards, kissing and sucking on the skin of his jawline and neck.

“Mm,” Kenma whimpered, grounding his ass against your growing erection, earning him a deep growl of his name. “Yeah baby keep grinding against my cock like that,” you praised, only making the smaller male comply.

A whine left the blonde’s lips as he started humping his ass against your thick cock-- his head fuzzy and vision clouded with lust. He loved this so much-- feeling your bulge against his ass. If the tent in your slacks was already big enough to prod at his clothed entrance, he couldn’t imagine how big you would feel deep inside of him, rearranging his guts and fucking him like the useless cock sleeve he was.

Feeling your big hands caressing the soft skin that hid beneath his dress shirt, he yelped as your thumbs pressed against the flesh of his hip before moving upwards to roll his nipples between your thumb and index finger. “You’re so sensitive, kitty. Such a cute little boy…” you cooed, tugging on the hardened bud.

Kenma keened at your touch, leaning against your chest as you moved to unzip both his and your trousers, making both of your hard cocks spring free from its confinements. Kenma’s intense and love-struck gaze was trained on your hard cock, the sight making him subconsciously lick his lips. “Don’t just stare at it, Kitty. Put it in your mouth.”

He gulped. His pupils shaking and his hands sweating as he struggled to even touch your length. “I-I don’t think i-it would fi--!” You were getting impatient and soon you grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to take your fat cock in all at once. “Stop making excuses and take it like a good boy.”

You started fucking his warm throat-- a low groan leaving your lips once you felt the tip hitting the back of his throat. Kenma was inexperienced and you could tell by the way he was sobbing, frantically tapping your thighs signalling that he couldn’t breathe. You rolled your eyes, lifting his head up so that he could gasp for air only to fuck him a second after. “Breathe through your nose baby.”

Kenma’s tear filled eyes met yours and eventually, he started getting used to the feeling of your cock wrecking his pretty little mouth. His face was ridden with drool, the sound of gurgling, your deep groans and his frantic whimpers around your cock the only noise filling the room.

“I’m about to cum, doll--!” You rasped, thrusting into his mouth a few more times before holding his head in place, spilling your hot cum down his throat. Your free hand came to cup his cheek, spreading the cum that dripped down his chin onto his cheeks, mixing it with his drool and his tears. “So fucking pretty.” you grinned, making him smile weakly in response.

You effectively flipped Kenma so that you were on top of him, Your fingers teasing the rim of his puckered hole as he squirmed beneath your bigger figure. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?” You mused, grabbing the bottle of lube from your night stand before coating your fingers generously with the cold gel.

Kenma blushed, turning his head to avoid your gaze as he felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest. “Y-Yeah..” He murmured.

Your gaze on the blonde softened, wanting to at least prep him properly before fucking him senseless. “Okay. I’m going to stretch you out first, Is that fine with you darling?” A curt nod was Kenma’s only response and You wasted no time in stretching his hole out. You started with one finger, thrusting it in and out of him until he got used to the feeling before moving onto two fingers. You took your time with him, making sure that he felt good before he told you that he was ready to take you in.

Glancing at the camera once more you grinned darkly before snapping your hips forward, burying every inch of your cock inside of Kenma’s ass. The smaller male mewled helplessly, arching his back as he felt full from your cock.

“Mmm, Your cunt’s so nice and tight f’me” You moaned against his taut skin, snapping your hips forward to meet Kenma’s. The smaller male jolted forward, attempting to meet up with your pace only to rake his nails helplessly against your back.

Kenma felt your lips clasping around his hardened nipple, Your warm and wet tongue swirling around the swollen bud. The blonde cried out in bliss, toes curling as he came without warning, an amused chuckle leaving your lips. “You’re so sensitive, Kenma. You came so easily.”

“S’Cause you’re too big…” Kenma laughed breathlessly, feeling the bulge in his stomach as you moved inside of him. A fond smile replaced your hot expression and soon enough, you were peppering kisses all over his sensitive body, a string of whimpers leaving Kenma’s mouth as he begged for more.

As much as Kenma enjoyed the hot afternoon in your embrace with your cock buried inside of him. He failed to notice the beeping sound of your camera once the two of you were done with your little session.

The next day seemed like a blur to the man. After you approached him, Showing the video you took with a shit-eating grin on your face, He instantly begged you not to show anyone-- Even getting on his knees to suck you off in the senior’s empty classroom. Your smile was different-- it wasn't genuine and soft just like the one you had flashed him yesterday-- your smile was wicked, condescending. And it only made his heart break much more, seeing how mean and ruthless you actually were. Your actions were undeniably fucked up however Kenma still couldn't bring himself to despise you, And he hated how much you still made his flutter even if you were hurting his feelings without a care in the world.

“Kuroo can I tell you something?” Kenma asked timidly, asking the chemistry major, making him nod attentively. “Yeah go ahead man.”

“You know Y/n L/n right..?” The blonde’s voice was slowly becoming softer and Kuroo only hummed, “Yeah the attractive senior what about him?” Kenma gulped before continuing, “I-I… we had sex and he b-black mailed me..”

Kuroo scoffed, laughing loudly at the words that left Kenma’s mouth. “Y/n? Fucking someone like you? I'm sorry Ken but fantasies are waaay different than reality. Have the video games been getting to your head? He’s way too out of your league.” Kuroo shook his head, trying to stop himself from laughing more and Kenma sighed exasperatedly, trying not to cry.

“You’re really not helping, Kuroo.” He murmured as the rooster head only raised his hands up in defense, “I'm just saying! He would more likely go for me you know,” The older male cooed teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well I have a class to catch, Ken! Let’s hang when you’re less busy and also, get lots of rest.”

Kenma sighed at the man’s words as he was left alone to ponder. If his best friend didn’t believe him then, no one would. However as much as the thought consumed him, He soon craved to have you touch him lewdly once more. He craved you, Confusing infatuation with love. Kenma wasn’t in love with you, No, He was obsessed with you. And to think that he would have such feelings for, you, out of all people, made his situation much more pitiful.

Before the blonde could think of anything to make his situation less worse, He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, a text message that had been sent from you illuminating brightly on the screen.

Y/n-Senpai: Come over after class.

Although the text was simple and straightforward, Kenma couldn’t help but think about it for the rest of the day. Why did you want him to come over? Were you gonna delete the video? Several thoughts spiralled in his head but none of them seemed to answer any of his questions.

“Relax, Kenma, I’m not going to do anything.” You laughed heartily, making the blonde seated in front of you shuffle nervously. Your words were not exactly the most convincing, especially paired with the mischievous glint in your eyes. But he decided to keep shut, letting you speak first.

“Do you like me?” You spoke bluntly, And Kenma tensed at the question, hanging his head down low to avoid your gaze. You soon frowned at the action, grabbing the smaller male’s chin, forcing him to look you in the eye. “C’mon, Ken. Answer me.”

It was now or never. You were giving Kenma the chance to confess! He wouldn’t just throw this opportunity away, No! He was going to tell you how he felt right here, right now. “Y-Yes.” He mumbled embarrassedly, only to blush once he saw you smiling at him softly.

He was too innocent! You almost felt bad for playing with his precious little feelings, however, as much as you loved making the naive boy smile, You would much rather see him crying and wailing for you to reciprocate his feelings.

“Are you gonna say anything else…?” Kenma piqued anxiously, and you hummed in response, inching your face closer to his, “Do you want me to say anything?”. God-- How could he form a proper reply when your lips were merely inches away? The younger only nodded before you leaned in to kiss him.

“I wanna fuck you.” Were the words that came out of your mouth. “I- Don’t think I want to-”

Giving him no time to protest, you pinned him onto your couch, pressing your body closely against his as he let out a silent mewl. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I thought you liked me?”

Your change of personality only caused Kenma to sniffle, tears forming in his eyes as he clutched onto the couch’s fabric tightly.-- “I do but, I don’t want to--!”

He looked so pathetic! And it almost made you cum, seeing him look so pitiful and helpless. Your touch on his skin was hot-- Blazing and painful; It almost reminded Kenma of the hot tokyo afternoon he spent with you a few days ago, except this time, you were torturing him and taking advantage of how weak he was, especially when it came to you.

You effectively shut the male up by spitting into his mouth, forcing him to swallow your saliva as your predatory gaze landed on his shivering body. “You don’t want to? Well then you’ll leave me no other choice but to force my cock inside of you, Kenma.”

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