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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 2 years ago

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(2) TENDER LIKE A BRUISE ─── ethan landry 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “No other word makes my mouth as tender as your name.” — ‘Soft Human’, Emery Allen

pairing. spiderman!ethan landry x reader

warnings. swearing, mention of blood + death, mildly suggestive

summary. after that first night, ethan and you have acquired an unspoken bond. your friends sense this bond, but, unfortunately, think it’s something else entirely. (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n. more spiderman!ethan. im really loving this au, but i also have no idea what im doing. expect some more fics, though not entirely in chronological order.

ii.

The rest of that night went like this: you ordered pizza, but by the time it got to your apartment, Ethan fell asleep on your couch.

So you forced him to wake up, all but shoved three slices of pepperoni pizza down his throat, then locked him in your room and made the boy rest.

(Waking him up was far harder than you thought it would be. He slept like the fucking dead, and looked like it too, hands perfectly by his sides, staring straight up at the ceiling.)

You were cleaning up the boxes in the living room when you heard a commotion in your bedroom, alongside Ethan’s familiar, profuse apologizing.

“Ethan?” You called out, walking down the hall. “What’s going—“

Suddenly, the door to your room opened, and out came Ethan, hair messy from sleep, being pinned against the hallway wall by Mindy.

“What the fuck were you doing in—“ Mindy said furiously, her hand balling up the fabric of your (Ethan’s) shirt.

“Hey- Hey! Mindy, put him down! I’m right here,” You said, wide eyed. You could see the pain blooming in Ethans side as Mindy man-handled him, his brows twisted taut, eyes squeezing shut.

At the sound of your voice, Mindy let go of Ethan immediately. From your room behind her walked out Annika and Tara, who were cautiously stepping away from the two of them.

Ethan’s hands held his bandaged side subtly, leaning against the wall like he had when you first let him into your room.

The guilt churned in your chest — how could you not think about your friends entering the apartment with him in there? Of course Mindy would be hostile, for Ethan had never come over if Chad wasn’t there first.

Without thinking, your hands graced both of Ethan’s arms. “Are you okay?” You whispered in his ear, and waited for his curt nod before turning to Mindy, Annika and Tara’s prying eyes.

“I’m— we—he came over to study, and he fell asleep so I…” You racked your head for a plausible excuse, so you didn’t have to tell everyone he was fucking Spiderman and that he almost bled out in your shared bathroom just three hours ago.

“Study?” Tara cut in, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you at the party?” She gave Ethan a pointed look.

Ethan opened and closed his mouth, looking between you and the rest of your friends. “I left, like, an hour in. I have Econ tomorrow, so I needed to - to study.”

Mindy took a deep breath in, then flared her nostrils, letting the air out. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” She backed away, hands in the air like she was getting arrested, “just wanted to know why this dude you don’t even talk to was sleeping in your room.”

Then, she walked off, down the hall into the living room, hands still in the air. Annika and Tara slipped away similarly, but Annika gave the both of you a particularly long and suspicious look.

You looked at Ethan. Ethan looked at you.

“How’s my stitch work?” You said lightly, trying to break the silence while gesturing to his side.

A small smile broke on Ethans face. “I think my head needs the concern more,” he said, rubbing the part of his head that hit the wall.

“Well, I’ll get you an ice pack if it's that bad. Now sleep. I’ll wake you up when you need to leave - if Sam catches you in here, it’ll be a repeat of last time.”

Ethan grimaced, touching his nose nostalgically. “Noted.”

After Ethan entered your room, stretching and letting out the yawn he had been holding in, you closed the door, and made your way to sleeping in the living room. Any looks you got from your friends, you ignored.

This knock-on-your-window-patch-Ethan-up-let him sleep-over-situation repeated several times.

It wasn’t one you particularly liked, however. Over time, you and Ethan grew closer. It's a little hard not to get to know each other when one is saving you from near-death, and knows your biggest secret.

You found out how sweet Ethan was, his consideration far more than mere politeness. He was a good person, one who often put his life on the line for people he didn’t even know. So, seeing the boy in pain every time he snuck in tugged at your heart-strings.

You didn’t exactly… know why Ethan was so good. Any time he talked about becoming Spiderman, he seemed so tense, so guilt-ridden. His voice had an intonation of loss, of pure grief that he wouldn’t let anyone touch.

(If anything, that grief was hurting him more than the injuries you were patching him up for.)

Besides that, even now, you two had never hung out in normal circumstances, and most times you saw Ethan, he was clad in that red-and-blue latex suit.

It had you wondering what exactly you two were. A walking first aid kit and the hero? Or friends?

It's not like you didn’t understand - becoming so close so quickly would make everyone suspicious, so keeping this relationship on the low was absolute key.

(But that didn’t mean it didn't hurt a little.)

Ethan coming over in secret like this had now been happening at least weekly for five months straight. During that, the nature of your relationship evolved: sometimes, Ethan’s injuries were bearable enough that he swung back out your window (to your adamant behest), or, he was awake enough to watch a movie with you in the living room, or even just knocked on your window during his patrols to say Hi.

One night, you forgot someone was home. You’d done up a nick on Ethan’s neck - a place he couldn’t reach by himself - and you’d forced him not to swing back to Brooklyn, even if his police walkie was rattling off several alarming police codes.

“Ethan,” You said, holding the walkie up. “This is going to get you killed.”

“I’m fighting crime! Of course I’m going to get hurt.”

“And I would much rather you didn’t get hurt.”

“Am I cutting into your study time?”

“No, dumbass, I just don’t want you to swing injured. I care, you know? About you.”

Ethan paused at that, looking at you carefully. “I — um,” his face was pink, “okay, fine. I’ll… stay. But just for tonight - next time, I’m going no matter what you say.”

“Just promise me to stay safe, alright?”

Ethan nodded, slightly hesitant. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” You pressed the walkie talkie into his chest, “So, Chinese or Thai tonight?”

“I’m thinking Indian, actually,” Ethan said, trailing behind you into the living room. “Do you remember that place from last time? They made the best—“

Then, catching the both of you completely off guard, Quinn’s door swung open wide.

Out came another one of her regular hookups - the prison suit guy, whose forehead stitches were now a light scar - who looked shocked at the sight of you guys and quickly scurried out. Then, out came Quinn herself, who waved the guy goodbye.

Quinn almost ducked back into her room without saying a thing to you guys, obviously ridden with fatigue, but quickly spun back.

Quinn blinked, rubbed her eyes, then blinked again.

“Are you two —“ She pointed to you two, jaw dropped, obviously wrong thoughts in her mind, and you were both quick to correct her.

“No! No — we,” Ethan started and stumbled, looking at you for help.

“Econ! He came over for econ help.” You finished for him, placing your hands on your hips.

Ethan nodded vehemently, “I’m hopeless at the statistics.”

“Didn’t you ace stats in highschool, E?” Quinn said pointedly, quickly sobering.

“Well, these— these ones are harder, okay!”

“It’s really hard,” you tried to convince her. “Everyone is almost failing this unit. I’m barely getting by with the extra textbooks I had on the subject.”

A beat passed.

And then Quinn seemed to consider this, leaning her head against her doorframe. “Well, whatever. Now go bang or study stats, I don’t care, just be quiet. I’ve got swim practice tomorrow.”

You and Ethan both gave her a perfect, agreeing smile, and she disappeared into her bedroom.

“Oh my god,” You whispered to Ethan first, “She thought we were—“

“She thought we were…” He repeated, eyes wide, finger tugging at one of his curls.

“That is the funniest thing I’ve heard this week, my god.” You shook your head, flopped on the couch, and that was that.

(Inwardly, your reaction stung Ethan a little.

Was it really… really so implausible that you two would be, well, together?)

And about the misconception of being together? Your whole friend group believed what Quinn did, too.

One similar night, after Ethan changed into a pair of his clothes (after the first few instances of patching him up, he began keeping clothes in your room) and you were about to put a movie on, you two had walked into the living room, and found your entire friend group waiting for you there.

Sure, dressing Ethan’s wounds happened often enough that they were home and asleep while you did so, but you didn’t think you two were that loud. At least, loud enough to wake the entire house.

It was early morning, 2-am or something, and Ethan had been texting back his dad, pretending he was just coming home from a party. Ethan had to regularly assure his father that he was indeed safe and sound, something you weren’t exactly privy to the origin of.

(There was a cloud of mystery concerning Ethan becoming Spiderman, his family’s undue concern for him, and his and Quinn’s deceased brother, Richie. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you just knew it was all connected.)

Ethan was just behind you when you stopped at the sight of your friends in the living room, your jaw dropped. Ethan bumped into your back, stumbling and apologizing, until he saw what exactly had made you stop.

“What the — what are you guys doing here?” You said first, at their piercing gazes.

“We’re staging an intervention,” Quinn said, trying to be serious, before breaking and letting out an ungodly laugh. “Oh my god, you guys need to stop fucking in the bathroom!”

“What?” both of you said in shock. Your face burned red, as did Ethans, who looked at you.

“E, I am so proud of you man, but you guys gotta be normal about this shit,” Chad said, scrubbing his face.

“Why the bathroom, exactly?” Tara leaned back, eyes red with sleep, like she had been waiting for hours and was slowly succumbing to the fatigue.

“Just! Hol— hold on, a sec. We aren’t fucking in the - in the bathroom, okay?” You said, arms gesturing wildly. Your face was practically on fire now, the whole room feeling a touch too warm.

“We aren’t even together!” Ethan added on quickly, though shying further behind you.

Annika snorted, then leaned her head on Mindy’s shoulder. “You guys don’t have to hide it. You do know we can hear you in there, right?”

What? You weren’t making any undue noise in the bathroom, you had made sure of it. Any possible noise they could hear would just be the dry bandage and Ethan’s overdramatic whining, which—

Ethan’s whining.

“Oh my god,” you whispered under your breath, brows becoming permanently furrowed. You jabbed Ethan lightly in the side, “This is your fault, you know?”

Ethan spluttered, “How is it—“

“You’re always so loud in there, and I keep telling you to—“

“And that!” Mindy cut in, pointing at you two. “We cannot forget to mention that.”

“‘That’ what?” Your head swiveled to Mindy’s pointed finger, letting go of Ethan’s sleeve that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“”’That’ what”’?” Mindy mocked in an (incredibly inaccurate) impression of your tone. “Jesus, I mean all the arguing and the teasing and the touching!”

Everyone nodded simultaneously, as if your (not real!) predicament was extremely easy to notice.

You blinked rapidly, looking at your friends then back at Ethan. “This is - so ridiculous,” you said, under your breath.

“Is it, though?” Ethan shrugged, head tilted and considering the facts against you two. “I mean,” he explained himself, “all of a sudden I’m always over “studying” and you’re sneaking me around the house instead of letting everyone know I’m here. We spend a little too long in the bathroom together, you keep your window a smidge open for me, and you keep my clothes in your closet.”

Well. With all that splayed out on the table, it did sound like you were hooking up. It was a great cover, if you were being honest, if only it didn’t make things so damn awkward.

Suddenly, as if Ethan knew what you were thinking, his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you close to him.

“Okay, fine,” Ethan started, looking at your group of friends. “You caught us. We’re, well, dating. Surprise?”

Through Chad’s cheers and everyone else’s relieved sighs (that of which they didn’t have to painfully watch you and Ethan sneak around the apartment together anymore) Ethan whispered to you, disguised as a kiss to the crown of your head.

“This fake dating cover is gold. The perfect excuse. You’ll help your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, right?”

In response, you nodded your head slightly, then looked up at him with a plastic smile, talking between it. “Thanks, babe. I’ve become your personal nurse.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of my sidekick.”

“Just don’t ‘Death in the Family’ me, Landry.”

taglist: @iloveneilperry @backtotheshitshow @hazehepburn @powowowy @ifilwtmfc @oscarisdaddy69 @al1v3cvp1d2@bloodyeverything @l5byrinth @gojosbucket @diamondci1ty

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #jack champion #scream 6 #scream vi #scream 6 imagine #ethan landry imagine #spiderman #spiderman!ethan landry

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l0velylecter · 2 years ago

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Hi ! I see your headcanon "random dude getting aggressive", can I ask it for Price and Gaz please ?

— the cod : mw men + being protective ! [vol.ii] characters : captain john price, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : gn!reader, headcanons, drabble rating : t for teen and up audiences , minor descriptions of violence, sfw!

01| He knew he should've been the one to go out and get coffee. You had insisted on buying it, telling him that driving for hours must have been exhausting; a quick coffee run was the least you could do. So when he saw you by the rearview mirror getting hit on by a creep and then verbally harassed for turning him down, Gaz practically shoved the car door open to interfere. His hands curled around the lapels of the shorter man, holding him in place while his voice lowered with a threat. Once the man raised his hand in defeat, spewing about how he didn't want any trouble, Gaz had let him go with one last shove; only walking away cause you told him it wasn't worth it. By the time you returned to the car, the coffee was already cold — his attention focused on you instead. Eyes apologetic even if it wasn't his fault. " Next time, I'm getting coffee. Clear?" You bit the inside of your cheek to hold your smile, already feeling better. His hand, reassuring on your thigh. " Clear." 02| You've seen Price frustrated, his head in between his hands, hunched over the table. You've even seen him angry: chairs flipped over at the knowledge that Shepherd's been lying to them this whole time. But you've never seen him furious like this — the rage rippling off him in waves, silent yet overbearing; you would've thought the temperature in the room had dropped. His grip against the man's hand was vice, grounding the man who had verbally cussed you out in place. Price's eyes flickered to yours, checking if you were injured, asking if you were okay. Once you nodded, he lowered himself to the Major's face, not caring if he was talking to a fellow higher-up officer. " If you think you're going to fucking get away with this, you're wrong."

The next day you heard the Major lost his job, and when the news broke out, you tried not to make eye contact with Price from across the dining hall: knowing that he'd stare right back at you.

a/n : hi anon ! sorry this is super short, but i hope you enjoy it ! thank you for requesting, i had a fun time writing about these two as always. happy holidays <3

the cod : mw men + being protective ! [vol.i]

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanon #call of duty headcanons #cod hc #cod hcs #captain price #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #captain jonathan price #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #fluff

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songmingisthighs · 2 years ago

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Ignominy

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

<< previous | m.list | next >>

ch. xxv - you wanna be useful ?

hybrid!san × human!reader

buy me coffee ?

warning : mdni, explicit sex; blow job, slight nipple play

everyone wants to belong, it's basic human need to connect with people around them. what happens when you're responsible for someone who belongs to two worlds but at the same time belongs to neither ? worst part is, what happens when it's your ex ?

After shoving your phone into your bag, you walked at a slow pace to San's office. You were honestly rather hesitant to return to San's office when he was pissy, especially after what happened several days ago. You were still trying to wrap your head around what had happened. You were sure that you wouldn't have sex with him again. Well, have more sexual encounters with your boss. But then he made you come in his office after humping you like a horny jackrabbit. Stupid hormones.

San had been quite nice during the several days since your last sexual encounter. It was... freaky to say the least. You were used to being greeted each morning with his scowl, so imagine your shock when he actually smiled at you the morning after. But of course, his nice and lighthearted mood was too good to be true because earlier in the morning, you saw him making an intern cry after the intern handed him the wrong documents, saying that he might have switched them with the ones he just handed off to the Head of Operations. Poor frat boy-looking dude had to be comforted by a chimpanzee hybrid from HR.

Though, you can't really blame him for being so... angry. He had to land one of the biggest deals in his career yet. You learned from Yeosang that his dad actually tasked him to land a government contract without his help whatsoever. He has been stressed and you guessed his stress peaked during the day he was supposed to do the meeting and considering that it was merely hours away, some aggression would be expected.

So knowing all that, you can't really explain why you still felt the need to be snippy at him. You could say that his bitchy attitude triggered your own, but that would just be a pathetic attempt of excusing yourself.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door of San's office, unable to peek inside as he turned the glass completely private. "Excuse me, sir," you called out first, waiting for a response that never came, "It's me, (y/n)," you said, cringing at yourself at how timid you sounded. "Come in," San said from inside his office, voice sounding rigid and cold.

Right off the bat, you felt like things will go a particular way. And you curse yourself for wearing yet another skirt. You wouldn't be surprised if, by the end of the day, you believe that what you wore determined how San would act for the rest of the day.

Despite your sudden nerves, you braced yourself and quietly walked into San's office, trying to look tall and proud when in reality, your stomach was churning. You were greeted with the sight of San with his head thrown back and his arms covering his eyes. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket nor his tie though he kept his vest on that seemed to accentuate the three unbuttoned buttons on his white shirt and somehow his rolled-up sleeves tied the whole look together. He may be your boss (and ex) but damn if you don't think he looked hot as fuck.

"You asked to see me, sir?" you asked, cringing at how squeaky you sounded. San lifted his arms off of his eyes and took a peek at you with one eye, "What are you doing way over there? Come here," he commanded. Not wanting to look like you were intimidated by him, you walked over as he fixed his posture, sitting back with his arms crossed on his chest that kind of made it seem like the seams of his shirt and vest were about to pop. Not to mention he has now created the illusion of having a cleavage so you hate it. You hate it so much. You hate how now you couldn't stop staring at his chest like a pervert in a club. It took all the will you could muster to avert your gaze and look him straight in the eyes as you finally situated yourself next to his desk, hands crossed in front of you as a subconscious instinct to shield yourself.

"Do you know the deal that's going to be made this afternoon?" he asked as he fixed his rolled-up sleeves, the gesture catching your attention. You nodded slowly, not quite getting where he was going with his words. "So you know how much of a big deal it is," he continued, standing up from his desk as he reached for the remote that controlled the glasses of his office to make sure that it was still in private mode before setting it back down. Again, you nodded slowly as an answer to him. San furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, exposing the soft, milky expanse of his neck that kind of made you wonder why you even found that attractive, "Why aren't you answering me?" he asked, unsure as to why you were being so quiet. Usually, you'd have things to say to and about him which would more often than not make his eye twitch in annoyance so your silence was odd to him. Then a thought flashed in his head when he looked at the way your fingers twitch in front of your skirt, the memories of the night where he... 'got you off' replayed in his head and he remembered the way you submit to him. A smirk bloomed on his face and you immediately realized that he finally realized what your silence was all about. "Oh... Have I finally silenced you after making you cum so easily?" he took a step forward with his hands in his pants pocket, looking cockily at you, "My cock wasn't even in you when I made you cum," he chuckled.

The words San used felt very demeaning. You felt humiliated for what happened just days before in the very same office. You could feel your heart beating in your ears and you don't know whether it was because of what he said to you or because despite his worst, you were feeling very drawn to him.

"Now I need you to return the favour to me," he said pointedly. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not knowing what he meant initially. It wasn't until San looked down at his crotch that you did the same and realized what he meant. It was rather embarrassing that you managed to miss San's raging boner in his trousers, the rigidness of it creating an obvious silhouette that couldn't be masked by the dark garment. When you looked back up at him your eyes were wide in surprise, "I'm not sucking you off during working hours, it's against company rules to conduct sexual acts in the office," you blurted, eyes shifting from your nerves.

Your excuse fell on deaf ears to him as he simply scoffed with a raised eyebrow, "I didn't hear you saying that you don't wanna do it because you don't want to. You're making up excuses," he leaned down so his face was merely inches away from you, breath fanning against your lips, "And we both know I'm above company rules," and suddenly one of his hands was in your hair, tugging on it slightly to elicit a whimper from you, "And I am the rules." Your throat dried up almost immediately at his words. His confidence and dominance overtook your whole being, clouded your brain. In the influence of his words, all you wanted to do was to obey and satisfy him.

Noticing the slight shift of your demeanour from being stiff and nervous to more relaxed, San took this as your compliance. With his hand still at the back of your head, he pulled you in for a kiss. You almost completely stumbled on him but his hands were strong enough that he steadied you. San's lips detached from yours way too quickly than your liking, but the alternative wasn't so bad because he soon began peppering kisses around your jawline as his hands travelled south, down your back onto your ass. His firm hands squished the flesh of your cheeks possessively, the simple action made you groan out loud. The soft caress of his fingers on the back of your thighs felt tingly and you could only think of how much you wanted to feel it on your pussy. "I'm gonna take your panties off," he announced as his fingers slipped under your skirt and peeled your panties off slowly. The drag of his hands was followed by his lips down your lips to your neck, then down to your covered chest and stopped at your belly where you felt your panties completely off of you. With his nose pressed firmly onto your fleshy front, San closed his eyes and took a big whiff of your scent. He had always been able to detect your scent and he was always comforted by it but this is different, this is intimate, this is your arousal and hormone attacking his very core of control. No matter how much he wanted to devour you like how he did on the night of Halloween, he willed himself to stick to his plan and he immediately stood up before he did something out of his plan.

Just as you thought you were going to be touched by San, you were pulled out of your aroused haze when you heard the sound of metal clinking from San's belt. You looked down and saw him taking himself out of the confines of his pants without taking them completely off. Now he had his cock up and out between his zippers, making it seem like it was framed to be showcased. "Suck," he simply said in a low voice, so low that you felt it vibrating through the air. With a shudder leaving your body, you sank down obediently hands trailing down the front of his body like what he did to your body earlier, the soft caress of your fingers that San could still feel over his clothing made him hum in delight, eyes closing and neck craning to the side slightly.

When San looked down, you were already on your knees, looking up at him with doe-like eyes as your mouth hung open against his stiff cock, warm breath fanning over the hardness caused him to let a hiss escape his lips. The way you were situated made you seem so bendable, so submissive, and so eager to please him. "Don't keep me waiting," San said through gritted teeth and shaky exhale. You wanted to smirk and say something obnoxious to poke fun at the fact that his release was in your hands, it all depend on you. But the last thing you wanted was to ruin the mood and turn him into a monster as he had been playing nice with you. So of course you obeyed him, letting your tongue rest flat on the base, dragging upwards at a slow pace and once you reached the top, you let your tongue circle the tip. You lifted your head momentarily, confusing San, He was about to ask what you were doing when you suddenly spat directly on his dick as lubrication for your hands to begin stroking him.

"How long do I have?" you asked him in such a casual way that one could mistake your question for a work task. San's nose flared slightly, letting out a shaky exhale as his brain processed the words you used and your casual demeanour. He couldn't understand why he was so attracted to that, it confused him how he thought that you were so sexy without even trying to look sexy. "Not long, do you think you can finish me in less than 15?" he said, cockily glancing at the watch on his arm. You tried your best not to roll your eyes at him but failed, luckily San overlooked it and decided not to say anything. "I'll get you off in less than 10," you smiled up at him.

In a flash, you had half of San's dick in your mouth without gagging. San was surprised at how well you took him, almost equally as you when you realized what you had just done successfully. Your hands found purchase on his annoyingly narrow hips, your fingers pressing against his ass that somehow felt soft yet taut at the same time, it was so nicely muscular. Your eyes fluttered close as you began bobbing your head at a steady pace, it really seemed like you were enjoying yourself and honestly, how could you not? The feeling of San's cock was nice in your mouth. Just like him, his cock wasn't big per se, it was long and had a comfortable girth, somehow you think the size was perfect for you. With each bob of your head, the slip of his cock against your lips, you couldn't help but imagine the last time you saw his cock, the feeling of him inside you. A hum escaped your lips along, your pussy suddenly feeling very vacant and without you realizing it, you started to move even quicker.

"Oh, shit," San winced, his hands flew to rest on your head, his fingers carding and burying themselves in your now mussed-up hair. "More," San grunted, hips snapping forward so that the tip of his dick hit the roof of your mouth. The intrusion caused you to gasp and jerk slightly but there were no signs of discomfort from you. In fact, his harsh treatment only made you clutch him tighter. San saw how desperate you became, hips circling as they seek friction. But your brain knows that it wasn't about you this time.

As your head and mouth resumed their work, one of your hands decided to try something. In the midst of his pleasure-ridden haze, San felt something creeping up his body only to notice your right hand slipping into the open section of his shirt, easily finding his pecs and the more you roamed, the more your assumptions were proven correct, his chest felt smooth and firm. San let out another hiss when your nails grazed down his chest, not even caring that there would be marks there later, and he gasped when you flicked his nipple. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of his pebbled nub, not realizing that the sudden intrusion of cold air into your lungs affected San as well as he found his hips stuttering forward against you. "Shit," he cursed, "That felt good."

With San's encouragement, you worked harder to keep up with your promise. While you couldn't actually care less about how long it had been since you started blowing him, you know you needed to make him cum. Fast.

Every hollow of your mouth, every suck you gave, you made sure that it will get San to react in some way. And much to your pleasure, you found out that tweaking his nipples actually helped to bring him closer to the edge. It became obvious with how San's breath laboured and his hips twitching and butt clenching that he was close and you were wracking your brain on how to finally get him to cum. Simply wanting him to climax, you decided to impulsively pinch his nipple not so hard but just hard enough that the air left his lungs, his body froze and spurts of his cum spilt from his slit.

To San's dismay, you unlatched your mouth and scooted back slightly to watch his cum painting the carpeted floor. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, revealing a proud grin on your face as you saw his cock twitching in the air, still rigid with spurts of white liquid falling to the ground. It took San a couple of seconds to finally stopped twitching and with his heavy breath, trying to let the air fill his lungs once again, you watched as his cock bobbed slightly, slowly going as flaccid as it could until it stopped moving. Even then, he still looked quite big.

Your eyes scanned over his body, gaze trailing over each of his features as he recomposed himself. Even in this state, you were able to see that what you did actually helped him. Prior to you blowing him, he looked rigid and tense, his jaw was clenched and his movements restricted. But now, as he was slightly hunched over, panting, you could see that the tension has escaped him. And fell in the form of white liquid on his carpet in front of you. In all honesty, you couldn't even hide the fact that you were proud of yourself for making him cum like that, discovering exactly what it was that made him tick. Or in this case, came.

Once San caught his breath and was finally able to move again, he lifted his head to look at you who was simply grinning at him in your sitting position on the floor.

Realizing that he was still trying to find the words he wanted to say, you took that moment and beat him into talking first. Cheekily, you taunted him, "Was my performance to your satisfaction, sir? Was I a good help this time?"

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @90s-belladonna @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @miaatiny @shinotani @jayb17 @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @bbymatz @yunhorights @tinybinnie @blaaiissee @yunhobug @kwanisms @yoongiigolden @kpopnightingale @maddiebabyxoxo @dea-nimus @meowmeowminnie @x-bluee @itsbeeble @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @starjoongie1117 @x-woozi @jwnghyuns @marvelous-imagines-for-all @baguette-atiny @jessi-outdated @dogsongy @kirooz @ateezourstars @memorymonster @yoonguurt @atinytinaa @naiify @cecedrake2217 @spooo00oky @flamingi @thesolarplanetarysystem @hijeongguk @hongjoong-lovebot

@justbaozi25 @idjitscentral @angelicyeo @jackinmyarea @cutie-wooyo

@glitterystarlightmeow

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growing-as-a-group · 7 months ago

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Stares into my An hc list

Anyways! -🌐🎧

An is genderflux! And he goes by any and all prns!

My dude has insomnia (due to the experiences she had within VOT like ghost and paranormal stuff)

Is Colorblind (Red weak colorblindness/Protanomaly)

They may or may not have heavy eye bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep

An does wear light make up and nail polish from time to time even if he isn't much of a cosmetics person

Yes you hear me right An is a Filipino

The small stars clips are a gift from Nagi, purple star clip and normal yellow hair clip given by Haruka

Speaking off which:

(An bought ALOT of those small hair clips Nagi gave her she likes putting them on people's hair (mostly vbs, Haruka and Mizuki) at random)

He has a matching bracelet with all of vbs!

Age regressor with no lean (also on the bigger side of regressing going from maybe 6-8 and 10 could be her highest at times main caregiver's are vbs and ken)

An owns 3 plushies! A husky named Koda, A blue lizard called Liz/Lizzy and the scented hamster Haruka got her named Ham/Hammy (And she has slipped one or two times when said plushies are within her reach)

She does have random bruises and scars from accidentally hurting herself when she was a child (She was very accident prone)

They actually has a chewelry necklace sometimes cause she needs the stimulation and just b i t e

He would fall asleep at any given time due to the fucked up sleep schedule of her insomnia (or just can't sleep at all)

An has the following:

AuDHD, APD, BPD, BD II, DPD

Tw for negative and a bit more darker hcs under the cut! 😅

Will push away any sort of negative feeling or absolutely will cry none stop for hours on end it's possibly a never ending cycle

She will always always try and help others in need and not think about herself for the most part if she does she will actually feel bad cause right now it shouldn't be about him and they should focus on others

Very indecisive with things due to her dpd and usually has to ask anyone she knows on what she needs to do at times

One time when he was young someone tried to take her away from vivid street (luckily the kidnapper is a stupidhead and did it in the middle of the day in vivid street and half the people there caught what was going on and took action to stop it)

Now An does get slightly uncomfortable when someone touches her hair or head without permission

#an shiraishi #pjsk #project sekai #Headcanons #admin 🌐🎧

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ultimateissuessimp · 5 months ago

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Rota

One shot

Word count: 616

Warnings: My stupidity (Meaning crack fic)

Four men were out in the club in Madripoor. Who could that be? Why, Zemo, Bucky, Sam and Y/N of course! They've been there for half an hour and already there were dudes and girls alike trying to get into either of their pants. Unlucky for them, two of them were off limits and the other two while single, they were not there to mingle. Yet that didn't seem to stop the swarm. Especially that one German guy, who seemed to be eyeing Y/N all night long since they've all had walked inside. He was persistent, not giving up until he got what he wanted, oh how ironic. The only thing he didn't account for was how unhinged Y/N could be at times and that a certain baron was highly unamused with his attempts, shooting him distasteful looks and groaning each time the guy said something so stupid he almost lost braincells.

-Oh come on, cutie. Don't be like that, I'm much better of a company than those dimwits that came with you - the guy said, his German accent heavy in his voice as he spoke, leaning uncomfortably close towards Y/N on the bar, staring at him like he was the finest piece of meat on the market.

-I highly doubt that, mein Freund. One of those "dimwits" as you called them is my husband and I would really suggest you stop hitting on me. Well, unless you'd like to leave this building in a body bag - Y/N said, rolling his eyes before take a sip of his drink, turning his head towards Helmut to observe his reactions.

-Yeah? I bet he doesn't treat you right, you could go for a guy so much better, like me perhaps and keep those empty threats to yourself, we both know that if I give you just a little taste, you won't be able to get enough of me - the man kept going, pushing and pushing like a bulldozer. He even dared to touch Y/N's bicep. Moments before Zemo could interfere, smoke almost coming out of his nostrils, something in Y/N snapped and he suddenly stood up and face the man completely, taking in a pose that could only be described as an anime fan doing the stand for their Attack on Titan anthem.

-Nie będzie Niemiec pluł nam w twarz, ni dzieci nam germanił! Orężny wstanie hufiec nasz, Duch będzie Nam hetmanił! - Y/N started singing a Polish song from the times of World War II, a one that he had learned some time ago, not knowing that one day he would actually use it, but holy hell did it feel good to see the absolute shock and confusion on the German's face. He was truly stunned. So stunned in fact that he couldn't even form a coherent answer, further on making a fool of himself and after finally realising that, he simply walked away, leaving Y/N alone.

Over the loud music, he could hear his husband absolutely losing his shit, laughing hard and almost doubling over because of it since he understood most of what Y/N just sang, the two languages, Polish and Sokovian being somewhat similar, letting him catch out certain words or phrases and actually understand them. Y/N turned to his husband with a cheeky grin on his face, leaning back on the bar before taking his drink into his hand and downing it in one go.

-I fucking can't deal with idiots… - he muttered, proud of himself as the grin never left his face for the next minutes they've stayed near the bar, chuckling from time to time as they've reminiscened about the guy's facial expression when he started singing.

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murdercapitxl · 7 months ago

Note

" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. " // for paul

Blood Prompts II Accepting

He should be back by now. Paul stared over at the alcove where Mapplethorpe usually sat, spending time adding to his sketchbook or reading various horror or sci-fi comics. But his buddy was nowhere to be seen; it was highly unusual. There was nothing stopping the blond from venturing out by himself, but the vampire had never known him to disappear for this long. Something was wrong. And he refused to settle until he was reassured that the other was safe; nobody was left behind in their gang. After asking the boys, they all provided the same answer; he was on the boardwalk getting some food. It was nothing out of the ordinary, so there was no need to worry. But that was hours ago - he was allowed to worry. Maybe he got distracted by something and lost track of time. There was no point in speculating, so he set off with a few places in mind.

"Short...blond, curly hair...no? Y'sure?" He should have known that nobody would know who he was talking about. Santa Carla was massive; it was impossible to pinpoint a single person. They chose the coastal town as their hunting grounds for that reason alone. "Right - thanks," he sighed, walking out of the shop and re-evaluating his next move. He debated returning home to see whether Mapplethorpe had shown up in the time he spent searching, but a nearby conversation caught his attention. The group of Surf Nazis were laughing amongst themselves, smoking and boasting about a recent mugging in an alleyway. From the description of their victim - just some blond kid, an easy target - there was no doubt in his mind that it was Mapplethorpe. He imagined his buddy put up a fight, but the fuckers never played fair. And as he listened further, it sounded as though one of their friends were finishing what they started. Shit.

Sure enough, as Paul navigated the town from above, he spotted two figures in close quartres below. The Surf Nazi had a tight grip on Mapplethorpe's shirt, holding him up against the wall whilst brandishing a knife. He could already pick up on the strong smell of iron, wafting upwards from a fresh cut. There was a sudden flurry of activity - too quick to react - as the perpetrator was violently thrown halfway down the alleyway, his body landing in a heap. After a moment, he rose unsteadily with a spew of confused profanities falling from pierced lips. Crack! His nose caved in with an explosion of blood after a fist connected against it. Paul laughed loudly, watching as the Surf Nazi covered his injury with a whimper and turned to scarper. He was tempted to add another hit for good measure, but decided against it. He needed to check up on Mapplethorpe first.

"Shit, man - did he get you?" Standing in front of the other, Paul inspected the small cuts made against his skin. There was a particularly nasty one upon his left cheekbone, still producing blood. Reaching inside his blazer, the vampire found a clean bandana and pressed it against the wound with a quiet apology. "Dude, shut up, you're not fine. Hold that," he took Mapplethorpe's hand and rested it against the bandana, encouraging him to keep the pressure going. "You should heal pretty quickly," benefits of being a half-vampire. Folding his arms across his chest, Paul remained tense. He wanted to say something, but seemed conflicted. After a moment of silence, the vampire huffed out a relieved laugh.

"I need to put a tracker on you. At least then I can save your ass quicker!" He was joking, but his concern was genuine. Paul removed the bandana and was pleased to see that the wound was gradually closing. "Troublemaker," he added with a grin, throwing the stained material into a nearby dumpster.

#coastercrushed #take a chance ( prompts )#Lost Boy II Paul

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dashboarddiaries · 2 years ago

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The Dashboard Diaries Awards

that's right, we're doing AWARDS now. and we want your input on not only who should win what award, but who should be nominated.

go listen to the episode and then come back and take a close look at these categories - our personal nominees are included as a jumping off point, but we want to hear from YOU! reblog and scream in the tags, send us an ask, email us at [email protected], reply to the post, whatever floats your boat. we're going to track folks' submissions over the next few weeks and then you best believe we're putting the poll feature to work.

so without further adieu...

Most Niche Discourse/Fandom Drama what's the weirdest thing you've seen people be in a froth about on tumblr? so far we've got:

realm shifting/energy vibration discourse

barbie doll fandom drama

Best Blorbo self-explanatory. who is THEE best blorbo? our nominees:

Bucky Barnes

Joel Miller

Eddie Munson

Puss 'N Boots

Dream of the Endless

Lynda Carter

Billy Butcher

Steve Harrington

Most Shippable Couple also self-explanatory. let the bloodbath begin:

Scully/Mulder

Merthur (Merlin/Arthur)

Black Bonnet (Blackbeard/Stede Bonnet)

Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Nandermo (Nandor/Guillermo)

Calliette (Calliope/Juliette)

Memed the Most memes are the lifeblood of tumblr:

Breaking Bad

Live Slug Reaction

Tickets to Barbie

Goncharov

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Best TV Show for Making Gifsets we could stare at this loops for hours:

Stranger Things

Santa Clarita Diet

Arcane

Dragon Prince

Severance

What We Do in the Shadows

Succession

Always Fixating / Best New Fixation what makes you chew through drywall? for us, it's:

Stucky

The Last of Us

Our Flag Means Death

Goncharov

Heartstopper

Best “Day of the Week” Meme every day a little holiday:

Energy Sword Sunday

Miku Monday

Sweet fat of the hog Tuesday

Tuesday again? No problem

It is Wednesday my dude

Out of touch Thursday

How the fuck is it not Friday Thursday

Flat Fuck Friday

Radical saturday

Stranger than Fanfiction (shows/movies that feel like fanfic in the best of ways) we built this city on tropes and ships:

Our Flag Means Death

Venom II

Heartstopper

and now we want to hear from YOU!! send us your thoughts for additional nominees that should be in these categories!!

#DD 15 #dashboard diaries #award season #dashboard awards

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blue-moon-writes-crap · 1 month ago

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Broken Fragments Gojo x OC

Chapter II: “I’m Mirae Chibana”

⚠️TW⚠️: Swearing, Mention of character death and Mentions of cheating (I DO NOT support cheating)

I DO NOT own Jujutsu Kaisen or any of the characters (Except Mirae, Yoo-na and Mirae's father who are MY OCs).

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mirae woke up an hour before her alarm at five in the morning, feeling a bit groggy. She decided to get ready, since it was her first day of school and she didn’t want anything to go wrong. After completing her morning routine, around six-thirty, she started making breakfast for both her and her mother, lunch and prepped a few quick snacks for the week. “Good morning Mirae, I see you’ve got breakfast ready?” Yoo-na said having a seat at the dining table. They were still getting used to the loud streets of Tokyo, so for the last week and a half they were living there, most nights it was hard to sleep. “Yeah, I made pajeon. I’ve restocked a few of the snacks for the week and made my lunch for today.” Mirae said. She passed her mother a plate and they both ate in silence. Her mother got ready and they both headed there separate ways. School was nearby so Mirae walked and her mother had to run a few errands, before heading to work.

Mirae arrived at school a half an hour to get acquainted with her homeroom teacher and the school’s layout. “It was nice meeting you today Chibana. A representative from the student council will be here shortly to give you a quick tour.” Mirae nodded with a small smile. She had to, since she didn’t want to give a bad impression to her teacher. Mirae stood outside until a student with blueish-silver hair walked over to her. “You must be the new transfer student. You can call me Mei Mei, everyone does. Nice necklace by the way.” Mirae thanked her for the compliment. As the tour continued, she felt something off about Mei Mei. “I know it may be hard to make friends, but I think you’re cool, so you should join me and my friends for lunch today.” Mei Mei offered, but Mirae politely declined. Once the tour ended, she felt a bit relieved and went on with her classes.

During lunch, Mirae spotted a girl with short brown hair. She seemed nice, so she decided to ask if she could sit with her. “Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?” She asked. The girl looked up at her with a chill expression. “Yeah sure. You must be new. I’m Shoko Ieiri. Two others will be joining us and they can be a bit, uh. much. Please don’t mind.” Mirae didn’t, so she sat down across from Ieiri and munched on some extra pajeon she made. She was staring out into the abyss, when her attention went to some loud laughter. It was some white haired dude from her English class and someone who seemed to be his friend. She was hoping to avoid talking to people, but they were heading her and Ieiri’s way. Mirae didn’t want to leave now, since she didn’t finish her lunch and she told Ieiri that she didn’t mind. “Heyyyy Shoko! How are you?” The white-haired guy’s friend greeted. “You must be the new transfer? I’m Satoru Gojo and that guy there is Suguru Geto.” Gojo introduced, pointing at his friend. Mirae put on her smile again. “I’m Mirae Chibana. Nice to meet you guys.” Gojo sat next to her while Geto occupied the seat next to Shoko. “So, Mirae, how do you find the school so far?” Gojo asked. “It’s nice.” Mirae answered shortly.

Mei Mei walked through the busy lunchroom handing birthday party invitations to a few of her friends, when she spotted Mirae eating with Gojo, Geto and Ieiri. She came up with a plan right on the spot and approached them. The four of them weren’t friends, but mutuals, since they had a mutual friend who was friends with Ieiri. “Hey, my birthday party is this weekend and I’d like the four of you to join.” She said, handing each of them a few of the cards meant for family friends. “Be sure to join in!” She said before leaving.

The front door slammed as Gojo headed to the living room to see his mother watching a random drama on the TV. She muted it before welcoming her son. “Welcome back Satoru. How was school?” She asked, as she headed to the kitchen to prepare her son a snack. “It was nice. The new transfer student sat at our table today.” Gojo explained. His mother’s interest piqued. “Were they nice?” She asked. “Chibana was quiet, but she seemed nice.” His mother handed him a plate of watermelon, before heading back to watch her drama. “That’s nice. If she really is nice, then I hope you can be friends with her.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Word Count: 777

Broken Fragments Masterlist (will be created soon)

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I’d just like to let you guys know that the update timing will be different than my previous series Zephyr, since I had 70% of the story finished before I started posting the first. Hope you guys enjoyed!

#gojo x oc #gojo x original female character #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x you

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hh0320 · 2 years ago

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☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ＜꒱

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

pairing: art school! hyunjin x fem! reader (+felix)

genre: light enemies to lovers, love at first sight, angst, smut, barista (y/n).

warnings: profanity, jealousy, mature themes, chainsmoker hyunjin, unprotected sex, mentions of death (very brief).

word count: 4.6k

🏷 : @ughbehavior ty sm for your help! 🤍

i. 08:43am

Hyunjin was contemplating murder.

“You’re holding up the line, hotshot,” he deadpanned, burning holes in the dude’s back.

Awful pick up line cut in half, the man of the hour turned around, eyeing Hyunjin’s stoic face.

Well, not so much eyeing, all things considered. More like looking up, intimidation failing to quite…reach. Hyunjin wasn’t the tallest of men, standing at 5’ 10’’, but this guy was a fucking joke.

You couldn’t seriously be entertaining him.

Hyunjin grinned down at him, honeycomb hair falling in his eyes. “Scutter along, playboy.”

The man was too stunned to speak, grabbing his drink and fucking off to wherever he’d come from. Fucking finally.

You weren’t amused, to say the least, but then again, you never were when it came to him. Instead, you glared. Hard.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled warmly at you, hands resting against the counter, arms flexing.

Your gaze dropped to the veins popping through his skin. You blinked, once, twice—ah, there it was, Hyunjin thought.

That rosy blush that painted your cheeks every time he did that—it made him weak inside. He wanted to see you blush for him, but in a different setting entirely.

Specifically, under him—

“What can I get you, Hyunjin? Surely you don’t come just to scare away my customers,” you snarled, wiping the espresso machine.

He ignored your little comment. “And, surely, you, my angel, know my order by now.”

He noticed the way your breath caught at the pet name, enjoying watching you make his coffee, flustered, avoiding his stare.

It had started as harmless teasing; freshman Hyunjin had walked into this small coffee shop, craving an iced americano, sketchbook in hand, excited about starting art school.

And then you’d turned around, and— well. Well. Hyunjin had never been in love, but he was pretty sure that was fucking it. You’d ruined him for any other person.

Too bad you hated his fucking existence. He’d tried his best everyday, to be soft, to tone down that damn sarcasm that always got him in trouble. He left you generous tips, came to hang out after or in between classes, sketching away as he stole glances at you.

You had called him a stalker, and he’d laughed in your face.

“A psychopath, then,” you’d claimed.

“Only for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Fuck off.”

He’d smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll take my time breaking you, angel.”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

So he did. And, fuck, has it been fun, because he could see, underneath the tough exterior, and adorable mean faces, you secretly loved it. The attention he gave you, his overprotective ness of you, how jealous he’d get when boys would try to flirt with you.

You knew, deep down—you belonged with him. You did ever since he found you, almost two years ago.

Hyunjin carried himself with a sort of elegant arrogance; popularity had come to him easy. His talent was unmatchable—a product of numerous hours of hard work; acrylics, oils, coal, he’d practiced it all, and he can’t not admit that it had been lonely, locked inside a room, thoughts turned into color, painting becoming an undistinguishable extension of him.

Had the brushes and the pencils, and the papers not been there, he wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps, some thought that to be an over exaggeration , but there had been nothing else for him, except this.

The smell of graphite, the hard callouses whispering of softwood—blank, textured paper waiting to be filled. All he’s known.

And then you. His coffee shop girl.

ii. 15:31pm

“Put that out, it’s disgusting,” you commented, picking up after a table that had just left.

Hyunjin sat by the door, smoking, sipping on his coffee. Sun out, and a pleasant wind blowing, his sketchbook lay open on the pavement.

“What do I get if I do?” He dared, turning to you.

You had a beautiful neck, he’d always thought so. Sometimes he thought you did it on purpose; clipping your hair away, exposing it. He wanted to leave open mouthed kisses along the side, just below your ear, traveling down to your collarbone—

Hyunjin looked away, tongue licking against the inside of his cheek, and took a drag of his cigarette.

You mused over his question, tray in hand. “I don’t know, a longer life span, maybe?” You said sarcastically.

He hummed, chuckling. “Tempting as it is, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking him in. Mid length, soft looking hair, sunglasses hiding, what you know to be dark brown eyes, an oversized t-shirt, and blue jeans, with black vans. Rings adorning long fingers.

Picture perfect boyfriend material.

And yet, he got on your last nerve every time he opened his mouth. You couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly—maybe the relentless flirting, or the smugness of him. But it was a shame, because he—

Well, he was fucking hot.

You shook your head, denying your own thoughts.

“Suit yourself, prince. That’s just what I think,” you went to pass by him, to go inside, but his hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your wrist.

You gasped, trying to balance the tray in your palm again, and looked down at him angrily.

“Are you fucking crazy, Hyunjin? All these glasses could’ve smashed on your head!”

He smiled at that, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, squinting up at you. His hand was warm against your skin.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—

“I would, for you,” he said. “Quit. I would do it for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you went to pull away from his grasp. He let you, that same smile staying on his full lips.

Your heart skipped several beats, bewildered. He confused the hell out of you, with his pet names, and longing looks. But you couldn’t ignore your mind, telling you what a bad idea it was to let such a person in.

He’d ruin you. There was no getting over someone like Hwang Hyunjin, that you were sure of.

Later, when he brought his empty coffee mug inside, he left a piece of paper underneath it.

Pretending to clean, you avoided him, making sure he was well gone before taking a peak at what it was.

A sketch of you—of your profile, more like, pouring a shot of espresso in a to go cup, colored in innocent pastel markers.

There your heart went again, betraying you. You looked around, before shoving the picture in your bag, dusting off your apron, awkwardly.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. He was conceited, and pompous—he thought everything revolved around him. Talented, no question, but you wouldn’t fall for it.

You wouldn’t fall for him, period. You absolutely refused.

iii. 09:02am

Lee Felix would be your new coworker, your manager announced, and went back to his receipts.

“Train him good, yeah?”

You remained in your place behind the counter, broom in hand, staring at his blonde head and constellation freckles.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He waved at you, beaming, as he grabbed an apron, and awaited instructions.

You knew Lee Felix—he was Hyunjin’s best friend, from what you’d gathered. At times, they’d walk in together, one iced americano, one strawberry smoothie, looking like they’d just jumped out of a magazine cover, and it would be very hard not to gape at them the whole time.

Felix was the extreme opposite of Hyunjin; this boy was made of the purest sunlight, the kindest customer you’ve ever had. He always asked how you were, and made small talk with you, as his friend scowled, and stared at you. Felix didn’t give borderline creepy vibes, unlike some—he was a genuinely sweet person, that always managed to make your day simply by smiling your way.

But—he hated coffee, always complained that the smell of it made him nauseous, so—what was he doing, working here?

You couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. You hoped it had nothing to do with a certain ‘I’d quit for you’ boy.

Not that everything had to do with him—

Ugh. Thinking of that interaction had your stomach doing backflips, and you weren’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Hey, star shine,” you gave him a small smile. “Ready to learn?”

He wasn’t horrible. He caught on fast, and tried his best, but the menu was long, and the recipes extensive, so it would take him a while no matter how bright he was. Not to mention working the espresso machine, something that had troubled you greatly—working with you he’d be okay, but if he ever was to open by himself... Suffice to say, you’d have your hands full for a bit.

Around lunch time, you made him his signature smoothie as a reward. Felix perked up at it, putting the straw between his lips, and chugging the entire thing.

“You’re the best,” he said, watching you prepare some pick up orders, back turned to the door.

“Eh… I’ve just worked here for too long,” you replied, simply, looking up when the little bell signaled a new customer.

“I got it! Hello, how—Hyun!”

Fuck. You put the Frappuccino’s in the cooler, filling plastic cups with ice. Anything to distract you.

“My two favorite people working together, huh?”

Felix laughed, leaning across the counter to greet his friend. You couldn’t help it, then, you caved.

Hyunjin was standing tall, and handsome, in his workshop overalls, paint all over them, a white t-shirt underneath, hair away from his face, in a half bun.

You nearly gave in. No person should be allowed to look that effortlessly good, especially when that person was supposed to be the enemy.

But why? Why did he have to be? Sure, he had a big ego, and rattled your nerves incessantly, but—that surely wasn’t reason enough?

You realized then, there was no justifiable cause for your hatred towards him. You just convinced yourself to dislike him, shoving him in a box and keeping him there, just cause of a smart comment he’d made when he first met you.

That was years ago.

Your heart told you it wouldn’t be for long. You can only deny the truth for so long.

Fuck.

iv. 18:10pm

Locking the shop, you threw the keys in your bag, turning to walk to the bus station.

You would’ve done exactly so, if you hadn’t noticed Hyunjin sitting on the stairs outside his school, cigarette in hand, sketching away. Normally, you’d leave him to it—many evenings he sat there, in his own world.

But today, he looked upset.

It’s none of my business—

But what if he needs someone?

Felix had classes, where is he at?

Sighing, you clenched your bag closer to your body, and crossed the street. You closed the distance between you, careful not to scare him, and even then you second guessed yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt responsible to fix his mood. But Hyunjin was rarely so visibly distressed, in all the time you knew him. He’d fake anger, sure, when he kicked male customers out with his snarky comments, and mean looks, but you’d never seen him this closed up.

You silently sat down next to him, peaking at his sketchbook. He was outlining the wings of a very intricate butterfly, tobacco ashes smudging the page.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, not once lifting his head.

“Hey…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “What are you doing?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, hair sheltering his face. His pencil continued its way to the main body of the butterfly, slightly shading the edges of the wings.

“Making a gift.”

A gift? You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “It looks pretty.”

He exhaled through his nose, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Then, he finally tilted his head towards you, face supported by his hand.

Your mouth opened, and closed. Hyunjin was sad—the kind that withered flowers, brought clouds, and caused rain.

You did not like seeing him like this, at all. You’d much prefer the cocky boy that was obsessed with bitter coffee, if that meant he got to keep smiling.

Perhaps, you cared about Hwang Hyunjin more than you let on. Perhaps, that terrified you.

“Why are you here, angel? Thought you hated me,” he said, putting the cigarette butt out.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stared at you, unblinking, and then moved ever so slightly, ever so slowly—

He kissed you.

And it was many things, but his lips tasted like smoke and mint, his lips were soft and plumb against yours—he kissed you like he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t help himself, guarded and yet entirely at your mercy.

You kissed back. And you understood, then—you’ve always loved him.

Always dreaded him.

It very much felt like hate.

His hands cupped your cheeks, softly caressing the skin with his thumbs, his hair tickling you, his breath mixing with your own. You fall, and fall, fall fall fall, leaning deeper into the kiss, into him, and he lets you, guides you, opens the door greeting you warmly—

This is what I’ve been feeling for you. This is what I feel, and for the longest time I thought you felt nothing.

You pulled back, getting up suddenly. Losing your footing, you almost collapse on top of him, but he holds you up by your arm. You’re panting, denying, denying, denying, scared, fucking shaking, because—

What if you lost him? What if it ended? You’d build your walls up, keeping him out for this exact reason.

No one gets over someone like Hwang Hyunjin.

You had caved in, and you had lost already.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you told him, overwhelmed, panicking.

He looked at you from his place at the stairs, unmoving, quiet.

“You shouldn’t have—you—I,” you took a deep breath, willing your thoughts to make sense, “I hate you, I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

Hyunjin took his time closing his sketchbook, while you stumbled over your words. He took out his lighter, lighting what would be the last cigarette of his pack, taking a long drag of it, meanwhile never taking his eyes off of your embarrassed figure.

You were blushing profusely, looking at anything but him.

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “Are you?”

You had to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Hyunjin watched you go in a hurry. And even though, you freaked out and ran away from him, the fact that you kissed back made all the difference.

v. 08:35am

The next day, Felix opened with you, so he could begin to learn the routine of the morning shift.

Hyunjin didn’t come in, as he usually did on a Thursday. If Felix knew something, he didn’t say, instead focusing on grinding coffee beans, merrily humming to the song that played low throughout the shop.

After a rush—students getting their caffeine fix before classes started—it was just you and Felix again, wiping surfaces, and cutting cake slices for the display.

You had to ask. You had to ask, because it was killing you. You didn’t sleep a wink, instead running through the events of the stairs. You could still feel Hyunjin on your lips, even after washing your face, even when hours passed, and you lay wide awake on your twin sized bed, praying he would seep through your skin, at last, so you wouldn’t feel the ghost of him remaining.

“I have a question.” You braced for impact, thinking this would definitely get back to Hyunjin.

Felix threw an irresistible smile at you, waiting. “Shoot!”

You chewed on your lip, before breathing deeply. “I saw Hyunjin yesterday, by the stairs… Is—is he okay? He looked sad.”

Felix pursed his lips, and took a sip of his smoothie. “His mom’s one year death anniversary was yesterday.”

What? Oh my God. And you made it all about you, telling him you hated him, and disappearing on him after he took a risk kissing you!

You were a horrible person. If anything, you were the self absorbed one—you’d never asked, never cared—if he was okay, if he was having a good day. Yet, he always did.

In his own way. But he did, nonetheless.

“He never told you?”

You shook your head.

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to pity him. He really likes you, you know.”

To that, you nodded, shamefully. “I do, too.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, smirking. “About damn time, no?”

“Now how about you tell him that?”

vi. 19:47pm

On Saturday, Hyunjin showed up just as you were about to close.

Dressed in jeans, and a band tee, hair wet falling across his forehead, he waited patiently by the door, while you gathered your stuff, lollipop hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, as you moved past him.

Shop closed for the day, you two walked side by side, in comfortable silence. The sky was a thousand colors, and the weather was warm—life didn’t feel real, with him by you, like this.

“What’s with the lollipop?” You asked, trying hard not to look at him directly.

It was unfair to look that good sucking on candy.

“I quit smoking.”

‘I’d do it. For you.’

After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to act as you did before, around him. It had seemed forever ago that your feelings for him were hostile.

You were incredibly ashamed of how you’d treated him. Everyone’s fighting a silent war, used to be something you’d tell yourself everyday, going through high school, but there you were, not giving the time of day to a guy that, if you were being totally honest, protected you from weirdo’s on the daily.

Challenged you, made your days interesting just by lightly teasing you. He never crossed a line, never insulted you.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked you, changing the subject, looking at the bag you were carrying.

You looked at it, too, remembering it was there. “Oh! Strawberry cake. It came fresh today, and I wanted to try it.”

You both looked up at the same time, eyes locking.

“Angel…” he seemed in a trance, time stopping.

Angel. Before, you’d roll your eyes, call bullshit. Today, where you stood, that word coming from his lips was heavenly.

You wished for nothing more but to hear him say it again.

Hyunjin cursed, arm reaching out to get your hand in his.

“We need to talk. Can I take you to my studio, sweetheart?”

Too caught up in his beauty to form words, you nodded, stupidly.

He smiled at you. A real, genuine smile. All for you.

vii. 20:05pm

His studio was utterly and uniquely him.

One huge room, half of it dedicated to art, filled with half finished canvases, and art supplies, backdrops hanging from the ceiling, projects piling on a desk on the far end of the window wall with the stained glass.

The other half a normal kitchen and living room, the two separated by a table counter. The mess appeared almost purposeful. The apartment wasn’t dirty, it was just—

The mind of an artist. Chaos.

“Amused by my inability to clean?” He joked, studying you taking in his space.

You scrunched your face, biting your lip. “It’s not that. This…makes sense.”

He chuckled, leading you by the hand to his couch.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He brought spoons, and the two of dug into the cake, the fresh, ripe strawberries melting in your mouth. You moaned, excited to be eating something sweet after a long day at work.

Sharing cake with Hyunjin, at his house of all places. This was something out of your wildest dreams, and yet, it all felt a little too normal.

After all, this is a guy you’ve been seeing almost every single day for the past two years of your life. You’ve served him countless coffees, watched him sketch for hours—he’d even walked you to the bus station one time, worried a creep that had been flirting with you a little too aggressively, would try something.

In the moment, you never really realized, but in retrospect, you and Hyunjin had been together a lot.

Never this close, though. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel different, this time, more personal.

You were sure your feelings were painted on your face, and surprisingly, you didn’t particularly care. You wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to keep hiding behind your finger, anymore.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Don’t say that about yourself, angel. I came on too hard, and freaked you out.”

You turned to face him completely. He looked so calm, so content. How had you never seen it before?

Why had you been so adamant on pushing him away?

“No. I was still wrong. Let me do this—”

“(Y/N), please—”

“Hyunjin!” You sighed, exasperated. “This is why we fight. Because you’re so hardheaded!”

He laughed, then, hands reaching out to grab your face. You froze, astute.

“We don’t fight, angel. We bicker. I love bickering with you.”

His mouth attacked yours, pushing you down on the couch. Your back hitting the pillows, you circled your arms around his neck, hands caressing the nape of it.

It was like a fire lit between you, engulfing you both in its flames. Your whole chest was burning with the need to feel him closer, to touch him.

“Angel,” he whispered against your lips. Your eyelashes fluttered, the desire to kiss him again too strong.

“Tell me. Before I continue, tell me,” he pushed the hair out of of your face, lovingly, eyes gazing deep into yours, “if you feel the same. I’ve been hooked on you, sweetheart. Ever since I met you.”

You were about to tell him the scariest three words you’ve ever said—but he had to know. It was overdue, it was necessary he knew.

You touched his cheek, leaving a kiss on the edge of his mouth. He followed your movements like his life depended on them—on you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The way his eyes lit up, that rare, addictive warmth of his that you’ve only witnessed a handful of times—you would never get enough of his happiness. It was such a whole experience, so very precious.

“Took you fucking long enough, my sweet girl.” He picked you up, wrapping his arms around you in the most delicious way, bringing you on his lap.

You could feel every inch of him—your hunger grew ferocious.

His eyes scanned your face, silently asking for consent, his hands at the hem of your shirt. You kissed him, instead, guiding his hands underneath.

He wasted no time getting you both naked, unhooking your bra, his tongue trailing down from your mouth to your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples.

“Fuck, angel, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...”

His other hand moved down, unzipping your jeans, getting lost in your thighs. When he cupped your cunt, you were soaked.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” his mouth devoured yours, crazy with want, cock painfully hard.

Pausing to remove your pants, you straddled him once again, running your hands over his firm arms, mouth moving to his neck, sucking on it. He groaned, his fingers finding your wetness, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Hyunjin…”

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed his forehead against yours, your scents becoming one.

You, you, you, everywhere, always—

You moved against his fingers, rubbing yourself on him. The idea of you, doing this with him. It was absurd.

Nothing had felt more right.

All of your senses were wide awake, so entirely consumed by him, and his hands, his breath, his clean scent, the sweat forming, the way his hair fell in his eyes—

His eyes. The way they stared you down, feral, growing darker by the minute. The sounds that escaped your mouth were sinful, and he could absolutely not fucking take it anymore, he’s waited long enough, has wished for this, for you, in any way he could have you, take you, make you his.

His moans were a guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the vibration of them, moving upwards, fingers wrapping around his neck, his head falling back.

He was the angel. He looked unreal, his naked body clenching, his movements never faulting, carrying you through an intense orgasm.

There were no words to describe—all of the buried emotions you refused to accept, they were all bubbling up, spilling out of you, destroying you, and Hyunjin was picking up the pieces.

“I need to be inside you, angel. Please.” Never breaking eye contact, he flipped you, positioning you underneath him, while he stood, one knee between your legs, arm extended over you, holding the back of the couch.

He stayed like that for a moment, just drinking you in, sprawled out, in his house, ready for him. He thanked whatever God granted him such joy, for he had dreamed of this many times.

You, wanting him back. His coffee girl embracing him, trusting him.

The moment he entered you, you both clang to one another, the feeling of his stretching you alone, overwhelming. His mouth against your ear, his heavy breathing scorching. You dug your nails in his back, moving with him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” His thrusts were slow, savoring, learning the ways you responded to him.

“Please, Hyunjin, please…”

Hyunjin watched you come apart, your broken moans music to his ears, a melody he’d like to memorize by heart. The way your body synchronized with his, your open mouth, head thrown back, unraveling before him—

“My beautiful girl…never leaving you—never allowed to leave me.”

A symphony. Heaven.

You made love like that, time no longer a concept, exploring each other, until you both came undone, shuddering, breathless, tightly enveloping.

A kiss on your forehead, and a silent question.

Will you stay?

You did; you stayed. You and Hyunjin talked till the early hours of the next morning, hands clasped together, hearts whispering, connected.

I found you.

I’m with you, now.

viii. 05:04am

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you mumbled against his chest, half asleep.

He froze, momentarily, a deep sigh escaping his red lips, fingers drawing circles on your naked back.

“She had to go,” he replied quietly. “That’s what she told me. The cancer was eating her alive.”

Your head rose to meet his eyes, your chest heavy. He looked calm, if not a little tired. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes forming crescent moons, promising you he was okay.

“It was just me and her, but I guess that’s why she introduced me to painting. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“She liked butterflies.”

You laid back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck, in fear of him noticing the tears in your eyes. He felt them, anyway.

You would never forgive yourself for telling him you hated him. You never did. Hate him.

You hated the way he made you feel.

You would never be able to get over Hwang Hyunjin.

That was fine with you, as long as you got to love him, first.

#ficscafe #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #kpop scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #mine.

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talaok · 2 years ago

Text

Steve can’t know(Chapter I)

Summary:Steve is your overly-protective older brother that is very opposed to you frequenting the wrong crowd, and especially to you dating Eddie Munson.Still, when you meet each other one day at lunch,it seems there is very little he can do to stop the inevitable.

Chapter summary:You meet Eddie for the first time while having lunch in the cafeteria with Steve and Dustin

Content warning:none

Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII

The room was dark and all you could see was the tree in front of your window and its leaves moving with the wind. Fuck, today was gonna be a cold one, maybe it would be better if you just skipped school today, I mean, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Just as that idea had crossed your mind the door slammed right open “Y/N!What are you doing?!”Steve shouted entering the room. He was basically ready to go, probably because he got up every day at about five just to make sure his appearance was “impeccable for the ladies”. “What” you mumbled from under the covers “what do you mean what? We are gonna be late! Get your ass up”

School this time of year was especially boring, all the tests were already done and now all you had to do was to sit in class pretending not to already know what the teacher was explaining. The hours went by excruciatingly slow and all you wanted to do was run the fuck out but you couldn't do that to Steve. As much as you liked to taunt him you loved your big bro and he really cared about you and your future, that to him had everything to do with how you graduated from high school.

Lunchtime came around eventually and you made your way to the cafeteria through the crowds of sweaty and gross teens. The line for the food wasn't long so you quickly took a slice of pizza and made your way toward steve's table. As you sat Dustin, who was next to your brother greeted you with an overly enthusiastic wave and immediately started rambling about what he had learned in chemistry. "Oh, hey Eddie!" you heard Dustin shout"Come sit with us!" "dude! What are you doing?" you heard Steve whisper, and In a matter of seconds, you found yourself sitting next to a stranger, a very interesting-looking one, for that matter.

"How is it going Henderson! They changed my lunchtime so I guess I'm going to sit with you now...and you Herrington" he said looking at your brother"...and you"He said turning his attention to you. As soon as he got one look at you his whole face changed, he cleared his throat and you noticed his eyes scanning your face, with particular attention to your lips. He bit his bottom lip" I don't think we have met sweetheart, because I'm sure I would remember such a beautiful creature if I'd have seen one. I'm Eddie" he introduced himself reaching out his hand "And you are?" he asked, his voice deeper than before. You took his hand to shake it but as soon as you did, he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it looking at you straight in the eyes. You felt your cheeks redden, and just as you were about to answer his question Steve cut you off "Her name is Y/N and she is my sister so take your hands off of her before I make you Munson" You looked at Steve who was staring at Eddie with a deadly look in his eyes and while a part of you wanted to punch him right there and then you got where he was coming from and decided not to do anything. You turned to Eddie again," Sorry, he's just protective he isn't actually gonna hurt you" you tried reassuring him while giving your brother a dirty look"Don't worry Harrington, I wouldn't dare come between you and your family" Eddie explained with what seemed like an almost too serious tone, and just when you had started believing him he turned to you and subtly gave you a wink

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #smut #steve and dustin #dustin henderson

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romanshomeonwattpad · 3 years ago

Text

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

✧ summary — the reader is new to all things sexual, so her best friend elliot decides to help her out with that.

✧ pairings — best friend!elliot x fem!reader

✧ warnings — none really,mentions of past,elliot is mean but what’s new,kat at the end yay i love her

✧ authors note — i wrote this within a few hours, and finished at 7 am. this ain’t proofread so probs typos. goodnight

✧ chapters — 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

┏━━━ ━━━┓

Your face twisted, letting out a cough, as the aroma of marijuana filled up Elliot’s room. Leaning back against his headboard, your bracelets jangled as you slapped your chest, hissing from the burning sensation in your throat. You hadn’t smoked in a while, and heard Elliot snort from beside you, snatching the joint before plucking it between his lips, “Fucks sake dude, hackin’ all over my joint and shit,” he muttered, the tiny embers turning red as he hollowed his cheeks, taking a hit. Your eyes rolled as his skilled fingers plucked the strings of his guitar, humming, making your chest warm.

The tune of the song sounded familiar, making your brows knit together,

“You listen to Lana?”

His brown hues flickered up to yours, the corners of his plump lips twitching into a crooked smile, “She’s hot,” he shrugged, eyes hooded as he looked back down at the strings, “Her music’s dope. Sometimes when I’m high, it feels like I’m having my soul being jerked off and coming to her voice.”

You sent him a look of disgust, but still laughed, “That’s disgusting,” you muttered, causing him to snort, before you hugged your knees—blinking at him, “Play me it. Wanna hear how you sing.”

His eyes flickered up to yours, shoulders stiffening, before he licked his lips—the beautiful melody beginning to emit from the quickness of his fingers. You knew you had hearts in your eyes while looking at him, resting your chin on your knees, a dazed smile hanging off your lips as you watched him. Sitting cross crossed across from your figure, his eyes trained on yours, feeling like a pathway of golden light had flown into your body. When his lips peeled open, a raspy, tuned voice that you almost mistakened for an angel rung in the air.

“Blue jeans, white shirt. Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn,” he began, eyes falling down to his fingers, refusing to look at you. It made you understand how vulnerable he was being with you, making your smile grow, as your cheeks began to burn. He nodded his head slowly, brows furrowing, as he continued, “It was like, James Dean, for sure. You're so fresh to death and sick as c-cancer. You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop. But you fit me better than my favorite sweater and I know.”

His eyes flashed up to yours, something glinting in those dark ones of his.

“That love is mean, and love hurts. But I still remember that day we met in December, oh baby. I will love you 'til the end of time. I would wait a million years,” his jaw tightened, blinking quickly, “Promise you'll remember that you're mine. Baby can you see through the tea—“

He stopped, shaking his head as he chuckled. You felt something drop in your stomach as his fingers rose to the bridge of his nose, “It’s whatever. The ballad is hard to get,” he sniffled, wiping his nose, before planting his guitar onto the floor beside his bed. Looking back at you, who just stared at him in silence, his brows rose, “You good?”

“Your voice is beautiful, Elliot,” you complimented, sincerity laced within your voice. He scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck, taking another hit from the joint, “I’m serious. I’ve never heard you really sing ‘till now, and you really have a gift. You could like—be famous.”

His smile grew for a moment, eyes flickering from the bedsheets to yours. There was a certain emotion swirling in them, one you couldn’t pin point, his fingers tightening around his thighs, chest rising as he looked at you with narrowed eyes. You shifted, feeling a bit self conscious, because it felt like he was looking past your body; and into your soul. No one had ever liked at you like this.

Like he promised, he took care of you. The two of you had hung out almost every single day, distracting each other to not go back to your old ways. Elliot had still struggled to convey his emotions, though, and treated you as just a friend like before. You hadn’t even touched each other in that way. Sometimes, you would want to kiss him, but decide against it—wanting him to make the first move.

But he hadn’t yet. He always pushed you away.

Clearing his throat, his eyes tore away from yours, and you began to wonder. Did he even really like you? Or did he just tell you that so you’d stop the drugs?

Swinging his legs off the bed, ruining the moment, he put out the joint before rubbing his chin, “Well anyways, I’m fucking starving,” he changed the subject, making your shoulders slump from disappointment. You needed to know if he truly wanted you, but he wouldn’t ever open up to you. He shot you a brow, “Wanna go grab some food? I’m feeling a little bit on the mexicano side today.”

Nodding, you gulped, “Uh yeah, sure. Sure, sounds good.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He knew you wanted more from him, but he just wasn’t ready yet. And you were patient with him, because you wanted him. There wasn’t an expiration date for that. But the overthinking thoughts began to kick in, telling you that perhaps he just wasn’t that into you. Maybe he only saw you as a friend, and wanted it to stay like that. And everyone those thought crossed your mind, your heart would sink into your stomach, over and over again.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out from his pocket, before his eyes skimmed across the screen to read it.

“Hold on,” he mumbled, fingers flying back a response. You bit your lip, wondering who it was, but didn’t think too much of it. In a few seconds, he tucked the object into his back pocket, before sending you a nod, “Alright, let’s roll.”

Your eyes rounded when Elliot took your burrito, before taking a big ass bite from it, leading to a gasp that left your mouth. Snatching it back from him, he laughed with food still in his mouth, causing you to cringe before groaning in disgust, “What are you, five?” You betrayed yourself by laughing afterwards, the both of you sitting at the top of two slides that connected together. The sky resembled a painting of the night, stars extra radiant this evening, the winter air chilling your flesh, “I think I’ve lost my appetite now.”

“Good,” he smirked, “Then give me your burrito.”

“You finished yours?”

“I’m a man. Men eat fast, baby.”

Your smile slipped as soon as the nickname left his mouth, his own doing the exact same. A warm, fuzzy wave of something washed over your figure, leaning your toes curling in your sneakers. The tension grew thick as silence floated into the air, his eyes averting away from yours as a blank expression covered his features. He called you baby. That was…

Romantic.

He fucking called you baby.

Baby.

It sounded like rich chocolate coming from his lips, voice deep and scratchy.

Blushing like a school girl, you didn’t expect his hands to slap against your arm, pushing you down the slide. With a slight shout, your burrito was snatched out of your hands, as your bottom slip down the rubber object. At the end, you looked up at him, and watched as he took another bite of your food. Sending him the bird, he only smiled with his teeth, before waving it in his hand, “Hm. Tastes better when it’s yours.”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t fight the smile that spread to your lips, crossing your arms as he slid down as well. When he reached the bottom, he had almost finished the item—before handing it back to you. Shaking your head, you declined, “I’m actually full,” you gestured by rubbing your tummy, causing him to raise his brows.

“Yeah? Then why the fuck you giving me a hard time?”

“Because it’s mine,” you teased, poking him in the chest.

He smirked, tilting his head.

“What’s yours is mine.”

“And what’s yours is mine?” You questioned, feeling yourself smirk as well. He scrunched his nose, before shaking his head, “Nah. What’s mine is mine,” he concluded, leaning back onto the slide. His eyes flashed up to the sky, biceps crossed over his chest, as he sighed heavily, “I don’t like to share.”

Scoffing, you let him win, before letting your back hit the rubber as well. It was cold against your skin, t-shirt riding up, exposing the flesh of your back. Your eyes thinned when you examined the sky. It was a lack canvas, clear as day, with little splotches of embers yellow dots that littered across it. Cascading in great lengths, the Black Sea had swallowed them whole—leaving them to illuminate the sky. Releasing a large breathe, you inhaled the new air, feeling refreshed.

“Dusk or dawn?”

Elliot snickered, arm falling to his forehead, “We really doin’ this?”

You repeated yourself, “Dusk or dawn?”

You heard him let out an amused chuckle, but felt yourself smile, when he answered afterwards.

“Dawn,” he muttered, “I feel like, if I wake up early, I can steal the new thoughts before anyone else can. I usually write when I first wake up, actually,” he added on, his voice quiet, “Tis’ the life of being a struggling musician.”

You hummed, “Riiiight. Anyways, I pick dusk, because it’s more romantic.”

“Romantic?” He repeated, emphasizing the word.

Laughing, you continued, “I mean, when I was little, my dad used to tell me the story about the sun and the moon. It was always my favorite story to hear.”

Furrowing his brows, Elliot had looked at you, but you didn’t notice—grinning up at the sky. He studied you; the way your eyes shined while you spoke, skin pulling at the corner of your eyes when you smiled, the way your tone slowed when you told a story, “Every night, the sun would would die for its lover, the moon, to rise. And in return, the moon would do the same, hoping that one day—they can reign the sky together. It symbolizes that even if you keep risking something for someone, without getting what you want, it’s worth it if it means in the end you’ll be together.”

You didn’t hear Elliot say anything, causing you to snap your eyes over to him—ready to scold him for not listening to a word you said. But when your eyes met his, who was just staring at you silently, your throat went dry. And you two staid like that. Looking into each others’ souls, memorizing every corner and blemish, seeing the memories you two encountered flashing before you. Your heart shook in his presence.

Your voice was small, “Don’t look at me like that, Elliot.”

His expression didn’t ripple, “Like what?”

“Like you feel the same way about me that I do about you.”

His features slightly fell, jaw tightening, as he sat back up in his seat. Blinking quickly, you did the same, looking at him as he ran a stressed hand through his curls. His voice was plucked like a wire, extremely dry and brittle, “You don’t know the first thing about what I feel,” he muttered beneath his breath, before looking ahead of him, “It’s not as easy for me as it is for—“

His phone vibrated once again, cutting him off, as your nostrils slightly flared. Who was interrupting this moment? He was about to say something. Nails digging into your knees, his face was lit up by the dimly lit phone screen, face hardening when he read what’s on it, “Who is it?”

“No one,” he quickly mumbled, too quick. Your stomach filled with angst as he stood up, hiding it back into his jacket pocket, before gesturing to the parking lot, “I got some shit to do. I’ll take you home.”

His suddenly cold exterior took you back, standing still for a moment, noticing your frozen figure. Flexing his jaw, he released a harsh high, shrugging, “What? Am I supposed to spend all my time with you or something, Y/N?”

Your heart cracked..again.

Feeling your throat close up, you kept an empty stare, silently walking past him in disappointment. He didn’t need to say those unnecessary words. You just liked spending time with him, but you understand it now. You had become too clingy. Apparently, your presence didn’t affect him the same way his affected yours. Without him, you felt like the air in your lungs did it’s best to escape, but with his shoulder rubbing yours—the pathways became clear. You could breathe.

You should’ve put him in his place, but didn’t feel like walking home, and he wouldn’t have let you anyways. His priorities were fucked. Without a word, you climbed into his car, looking out the window to avoid conversation. When he slid into the drivers’ seat, your fingers tightened around your thigh, chewing on your cheek to suppress the urge to say something. Watching the trees blend together, an anxious feeling kept stabbing into your chest, getting the feeling that the person that was texting him wasn’t just someone.

His voice was plain, “Stop treating me like some personal driver and talk to me.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, who kept glancing at you, also focusing on the road before him. One arm handling the wheel, the other was resting on his stubble, receiving your side eye quite clear. Instead of replying, you pulled out your phone, and began to scroll through Instagram briefly. You heard him chuckle as you narrowed your eyes at the screen, “So fucking sensitive,” he taunted, causing you to squeeze the phone in your hands, “I was kidding, Y/N. Learn to take a joke and chill out, bro.”

Snapping your head at him, your brows rose. You couldn’t handle it anymore, feeling his words set you off the edge, “Bro? Do you let your bros give you handjobs in the movie theater, Elliot?” You spat at him, raising your voice. His cocky smile slowly faded at your words, finally getting humbled. Laughing, you nudged his arm, “Don’t talk to me like that. Like you didn’t just fucking tell me a few weeks ago that you cared about me, gave me the impression that you had actually changed, when you didn’t. You are the most unempathetic person I’ve ever met, and I truly hope you get the help you need.”

He scoffed, making a sharp turn.

“Help I need? Aren’t you the one that was snorting random drugs and breaking my door down to get more? Come back to reality, Y/N.”

At that, your eyes widened with shock. As soon as he said it, he muttered a small fuck, knowing it was too far. You were near your house, and knew that you could make it the rest of the way, so you used your voice. It was tight.

“Pull over.”

He cleared his throat, “I’m not—“

“Pull over,” you shouted at him, slamming your hand on the dashboard. Your fists balled as you began kicking and repeating the words, all the sense within you disappearing, “Pull over! Get me the fuck out, I can’t—pull over!”

Going to the side of the road, he parked the car, giving in, before you undid your seatbelt and got out. Slamming his car door, he did the same, pointing a finger at you—a furious look on his face. Veins protruding from his neck, the area between his brows held wrinkles, baring his teeth.

“You’re insane,” he growled, and you scoffed, “No—seriously. I could’ve gotten into an accident because of your loony ass. Throwing a tantrum like a fucking child—“

Holding up two middle fingers to his face, your hand shoved his forehead back, causing him to stumble, “Go cry about it, just not to me. I’m over trying to figure you out. By the time you figure out your so called feelings, I’ll be having to pay my own taxes, Elliot! I’m fucking finished waiting around for someone that’s never going to come.”

His eyes thinned, a bitter smirk crossing his face.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

His jaw clenched, “No the fuck you don’t.”

Scoffing, you turned around, “Whatever,” had slid out of your lips, beginning to walk away. You were so fed up. But then, he sped up, stepping in front of you. His chest blocked you from moving, making you let out an irritated sound, “Get out—“

“I’ll let you go,” he spoke softly, but his face was hard. You gulped as he rose a brow, “But you’ll always be mine. Whenever another man touches you, you’ll think of how I can do it better. The taste of someone else’s lips on yours will feel wrong. Admit it. I only make you so mad because of how much you care. You know why? Because you’re fucking mine,” he then took a step forward, making your breath hitch, as his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, “And like I said, I don’t share what’s mine.”

With a shocked look, you only blinked, making his smirk grow—knowing he won. Like always. Then with a chuckle, he spun around, going back to his car.

“Text me when your home, or don’t, you’ll come back eventually.”

You only had one other friend other than Rue and Elliot, someone who was always there for you. You had been ignoring her recently, due to being so stuck up Elliot’s’ ass, that the memory of her had vanished from your mind. So here you were, rambling to her about everything that had happened between the two of you, and as usual, she listened. Because she was a good friend, unlike some people.

“Fuck men,” Kat sounded, throwing a pretzel into her mouth, “I swear. It’s like, they think we can’t crush their balls with hammers or something.”

Chuckling, you felt your phone vibrate, seeing that you had received a text, “Speaking of the devil,” you muttered, handing her the phone.

elli :p at 12:37 pm

you finished being pissy?

Her thick brows rose, letting out a cackle, before tossing it onto her bed, “I don’t know what to do anymore,” you sighed, falling against her comfy bed sheets, “What do I do?”

“Don’t text him, or talk to him—until he literally shows up to your house.”

Your brows furrowed, looking at her as if she was crazy, “Huh? Won’t that just piss him off even more?”

Kat giggled, biting down on another pretzel. You took one too, the salty taste burning your taste buds.

“The art of seduction, Y/N, is all about the chase. Men want what simply doesn’t want them. Knowing your not just going to be at his beck and call, he’ll realize that he has an attachment to you, and not vice versa,” she explained, sitting up from her elbows and sitting cross crossed, getting into it, “He’ll realize that he needs you, and will turn him on even more when he sees you with other choices. I mean, you’re hot dude, go flirt with some other dude and make it down you’re not playing around—but do exactly that. Play with him like a fat kid at a chocolate shop, acting like you don’t know what you want but you choose the candy apple anyways.”

Tilting your head, you frowned.

“I’m lost.”

Her brown eyes rolled, “Don’t text him back. Give it a week,” she shrugged, “And if he really does care, then he’ll be knocking on your door soon enough.”

You nodded, wondering if you should follow her advice. Coming off as desperate was never something that made a guy want a girl, yes. And it hit you that most of the time, you were initiating everything. Perhaps you guys wouldn’t even have hung out as much as you did if you didn’t text first. Thoughts molding your brain, it hit you. As much as you wanted to be around him, you needed to see other people to hang out with. If you revolve your whole world around him, then that’s what it’ll be.

You’d rather die.

“Okay,” you mumbled, leaving him on read before shoving your phone back into your pocket—but then, you felt it ring again. Raising your brows, you spotted another text.

elli :p at 12:37 pm

hmu when you grow up.

Looking up at Kat, she smirked wickedly, waving her pretzel in her hand.

“It’s already starting, babe.”

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#elliot #elliot euphoria #euphoria #elliot imagines #elliot smut #elliot x you #elliot x y/n #elliot imagine #elliot x reader #elliot is mean

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

Text

twelve hours, m | jjk | then...

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; implied taehyung x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part i | click here for part ii | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; alcohol consumption; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school and haven't seen each other until now; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; high school smut + (in part ii) intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; the ask

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > reader's burlesque performance is heavily inspired by Dita Von Teese and her martini glass stage; music used is 'sweet dreams are made of this' and 'are you the rabbit?' both by Marilyn Manson.

"You have twelve hours."

"What happens after that?"

"He's going to get married."

time left: 11:59

"Dude, she said anything goes."

Jeon Jungkook frowned, glaring at his best man. "You don't do dumb shit if you're going to marry them."

Kim Taehyung tilted his head, long black-brown stands curling around his defined cheekbones, dark brown eyes twinkling with slyness, looking handsome, amused, and devilishly single.

Because he was.

"Oh? You're finally admitting you're in love with your future wife?"

"... Of course."

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. "How convincing."

time left: --:--

Jeon Jungkook.

Hm.

Did he remember you? Probably not. It was a long time ago, high school and all that. He was more adorable then and you were more rebellious then. Too rebellious, putting yourself in detention far too many times, leaving you with the class representative after hours, who turned out to be Jeon Jungkook, not because he was a good student but because everyone liked him. Athletic, creative, attractive, the epitome of the face of the class.

The teachers left you with tons of remedial work that you didn't bother to do during detention, choosing instead to annoy the class representative. Sitting close to him, staring at him, toying with his school supplies, pointing out when he was using the wrong equation for the math problem he was trying to solve.

"Why are you like this?" he snapped one day, smacking his pencil down and glaring at you. "Why do you pick fights and beat up upperclassmen and skip class and sneak around? What's the point?"

You spun your pen on your fingertips.

"I just want to spend time with you."

And you had kissed him.

Whether those words were real or not at the time didn’t matter, because, in time, they would become all too real.

time left: 11:45

"You're on stage in five minutes. We're very sorry for the delay."

You smiled, lips painted red, teasing and sculptural, covered in red and black Swarovski crystals and lush velvet, chained by fabric and thick clasps holding each piece together. "That's alright. I understand."

The employee bowed and left. The bachelor party was already in full swing. Loud chattering, clinking of glasses, rowdy laughter. You could hear it through the thin walls backstage, through the curtains, into your soul. A big party on a yacht.

Rich, decadent, ripe with sin.

Arranged by Kim Taehyung, a successful art trader and the best man of Jeon Jungkook, well-known director of indie films and the bachelor who was about to get married to a wealthy, very well-known social media influencer turned socialite. She had her face all over social media, so she needed another face equally as beautiful for the likes and the sponsors.

Young money, they called it.

You stood up, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Being on stage was different than real life.

It required red lips, immaculate black eyeliner, sharp and distinct, manicured brows, and perfectly pinned hair, dyed a cool-toned black to bring out a kind of surreal quality to your skin, as if you were more of a doll than a human being. The show costume tonight was black and red, packed with crystals so you would be glittering from every angle. Handcrafted bustier, separate corset, strappy panties, slinky floor-length skirt with a high slit, sheer stockings, tall heels, even a long cape that trailed on the floor, completed with heavy choker around your throat, covered in black diamonds.

You turned from the mirror and exited your green room, walking slowly and carefully. Two security guards followed you, keeping all staff away from your path. They were holding your ostrich feather fans.

Black and red.

Taehyung couldn't afford you and your act unless he blew his entire budget on your performance alone. However, you made an exception for him, because he had something you wanted.

The lights were dimming.

You stood next to the stage, seeing the two-meter-tall, gem-encrusted martini glass waiting for you.

There was a spotlight on it, scattering light all over the dark room, barely illuminating the faces in the audience. You could see him because he was in the front row, looking confused, large brown eyes, long black hair, eyebrow piercing, and hand tattoos.

It was his party.

Jungkook had no idea the main event Taehyung had arranged was a professional burlesque dancer.

Sudden silence.

Being on stage was just like real life.

You always had to play a character.

The music began.

"Sweet dreams are made of this..."

You glided on stage, and the lights followed.

time left: --:--

You sat with the teacher, waiting.

The whole thirty minutes elapsed.

"We will have to reschedule this parent-teacher conference."

It was on the tip of your tongue. They won't come. They don't care. Last night my mother shoved my hand into boiling water until I screamed my apology for not folding the laundry fast enough.

You pulled the sleeve of your large hoodie over your bandaged left hand.

"I did the remedial work..." you mumbled.

"It doesn't matter even if you got full marks on it. Your behavior hasn't changed. You'll be on cleaning classroom duty for the rest of the month unless your parents attend a meeting to talk about your behavior."

That was the only reason you weren't expelled or suspended. Despite all your bullshit, your grades were good. Excellent, even. Strangely good despite only attending half of your classes. The teachers still gave you punishments to make an example of you, but you wouldn’t be getting away with this if your name wasn’t at the top five percent of the class.

You were mopping the floor when someone called your name. You looked up, and there he was.

The class representative.

"Hello, Jungkook."

He must have stayed late for taekwondo. He was still in uniform.

"This isn't your day for cleaning duty," he said, sounding confused.

You smirked at him, teasing and sculptural.

"Every day is my day for cleaning duty now."

His dark brows knitted together, frowning. He walked to the entrance but did not step in, seeing the wet floor. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think they enjoyed my graffiti on the gym building," you mused, recalling the strong scent of the paint spray cans. Students and teachers had to look up the English phrase you had outlined on there to understand it. It spread around the school like wildfire before you were forced to paint over it.

I got an F and a C and I got a K too and the only thing that's missing is a bitch like U.

You even left the period for proper grammar.

"Your shirt is untucked."

You flipped up the bottom of your white dress shirt and flashed him your red bra. Jungkook jerked his head away quickly, trying to avoid looking. His eyes lingered anyway, because, of course, he was a teenager and you were well-educated in the stages of puberty. Not really because of school.

Mostly because of the internet.

"Oops," you purred, leaning against the mop handle. His eyes flickered to your face and your tongue curled around the edge of your upper lip before disappearing into your mouth.

Jungkook's ears and cheeks turned red. He backed up, away from the door.

You cocked your chin.

"Run along now, golden boy."

You let the coldness show now, tone dropping.

"Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?" you snarled.

Guilt clouded his features.

He ran.

You went back to mopping.

time left: 11:37

Your clients usually wanted very specific things from you. Glamor, first and foremost. Fantasy. They wanted to descend into hell, or at least feel that way. It's not cheating if you're not touching, they loved to say. They were usually old, wealthy, and surprisingly respectful of the craft.

Not so much you, but the craft.

Well, that's what the bodyguards were for.

There was something about a woman who lived in shadow that was appealing and enticed all the worst behaviors. Alcohol was usually involved, a depressant to the mind and stimulant to sin.

Taehyung had given you free reign.

"Go off. Do whatever you want."

It began with Sweet Dreams, but not just any sweet dreams. Sweet dreams with a grating, smoked growl, darker with guitars and low bass, a remix with longer instrumental parts. They saw the black ostrich feathers and glowing dark crystals first, followed by your haunting movements and feline predatory grace.

“Travel the world and the seven seas, everybody's looking for something...”

You could see him through the vanes of the feathers, jaw dropped, trying to take it in. Unlikely he recognized the singer. Marilyn Manson wasn't exactly who people thought of when burlesque was involved.

Ah, but the pain and agony in that voice was exactly what you wanted to convey.

"Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to be used by you..."

You lowered the fan, smirk on your lips. Tipped your head back, letting the diamonds on the choker catch the light, swaying to the movement of the music. There was smoke creeping down the sides of the curtains, adding to the strangeness of it all, as if one was stepping into another world. You turned your wrists inward, feathers gliding over your body, pulling back slowly, tongue tracing your lips.

The tip lingered at the edge of your upper lip and slid back in as you lowered your lashes.

“I want to use you and abuse you…”

You transferred one of the fans to your left hand, careful to place them so it looked like one massive fan. You swept it over your head, grazing your hair, covering part of your back.

“I want to know what's inside you…”

You knew the easiest and most elegant way to flick off the cape, pulling the fan back as it cascaded down, stroking your torso and catching onto your ass.

A deliberate flick of your hips and it fell off, revealing your form.

You looked back over your shoulder and found those brown eyes, frozen in his seat.

You could hear some boisterous whistles and cheers but you focused on personifying the music.

“Movin’ on…”

Every action was practiced, sharp, attentive. You were very aware of every arm movement, every line of your legs, every facial expression, every finger and every wrist flick. You commanded the stage with every step, almost lazy in facial expression, but your eyes were sharp, clear of all your surroundings.

You cocked an eyebrow, hiding behind your fans again.

The art of tease was not something you took lightly.

Your hand slid down, visible against the dark fabrics and sparkling crystals, long fingers spreading out.

Two slid between your legs, pushing the fabric in, outlining your pussy.

The delicate but forceful thrust of your hips, implying that perhaps, maybe, if one was lucky, they could have it.

All lies.

Your hand danced back up, unhooking your skirt and tossing it aside. A smooth, practiced motion, glistening as it tumbled through the air. Your stagehand caught it, hidden in the dark, the same one that had collected your cape from the floor earlier. No one noticed.

All eyes were on you.

You closed the fan slowly, lowering it, tracing the inside of your thigh.

Gazing at Jeon Jungkook under your lashes.

“Sweet dreams…”

Your slim tongue slid out from between your painted lips.

Slow, curling around the edge of your upper lip before disappearing into your mouth.

Taehyung had met you by chance. He had been invited to a fancy dinner party and you were the guest performance. That was your opium stage, with the green bed and white smoke, long robes and snake motifs. Writhing on the bedsheets, slithering, serpentine. The deliberate plucking of each finger from the long black opera gloves before pulling it off with one smooth motion, mining a moan as you tossed it aside. One, then the other. Then the stockings, holding it by the toe and leaning over the edge of the bed, raising your bent leg and pulling it over your shoulder, ass in the air. One and then the other. Your head tipped back, unlacing the corset, paying attention to your body line.

Nothing but pure seduction.

The host decided to hold a drawing for a private show, just for fun, and, lo and behold Kim Taehyung's luck, clutching the called-out number and pushed into a dark room with you.

He had looked from the two bodyguards to you, uneasy.

You had climbed into his lap.

"W-Wait, I thought I couldn't t-touch..."

"You can't."

Young money was starting to take over and thank God for that, because private dancing for old, entitled men was rather annoying and required the presence of the guards. A young man winning was just as lucky for you as it was for him. You never, ever allowed any of the men to touch you.

You touching someone, well, that was your choice.

When you tilted your head, you shifted your torso too, making the green and clear crystals on your silk robes catch the light, fluid and serpentine, hair cascading down your shoulder.

"Unless you want me to get off you."

Taehyung had stared into your eyes, tipsy and in awe of your movement.

"No."

He had placed his hands behind his back, baritone voice deep and heavy in anticipation.

"You can do whatever you want."

Now.

The song was changing.

You turned ninety degrees, balancing on the fans, bent over, staring into Jungkook's eyes.

Did you know?

You straightened slowly, turning your back to the crowd.

Reached back and undid the corset with one hand, slowly loosening the strings.

"I'm a kickstand in your mouth and I'm the tongue slamming on the brakes..."

Looked back and shook your ass, bending over again, tangling your fingers in the black cord as if you were trapped, strategic and deliberate, making eye contact with him, the one from long ago, class representative and all that. Still had that same handsomeness when he was dressed up, wearing an all-black suit, tailored and fitted. You could see his hand was tattooed, and he had a brow piercing, but still the same air of uncertainty when his eyes were on you. Whether that was simply the performance or because he recognized you remained to be seen.

You stood up and the corset slid down your legs, so heavy that it was a smooth motion.

You stepped out of it, flashing the iconic red soles.

The fans fell to the floor.

The ladder was set up.

You strode around the large martini glass, slow, long steps, all legs and ass, poised hands, and over-the-shoulder glances, promises unfulfilled.

"Don't want anyone else's hand on my gears..."

You placed a hand on the stem of the stage prop, lifting your leg and plucking off one Louboutin. You cast it aside. Then the other, keeping yourself balanced in tiptoe to maintain the illusion.

A lull in the music.

You toyed with the top of your stocking, loosening it.

“And I'll choke on all the diamonds…”

Leaned down, gripping the toe of the stocking. Balancing on one leg and leaning against the two-meter-tall martini glass, lifting your leg and bending your knee, tugging it off with one smooth motion, pulling up until it popped off your pointed toe.

Now the other.

"So ask yourself before you get in, know insurance won't cover this..."

Parted lips, lowered lashes, raw, sensual lust as the sheer fabric slid off your calf and foot.

"Are you the rabbit or the headlight?"

Guitars and bass, the music lulling at this part, accenting your actions.

Up the ladder.

The giant glass had water in it, complete with a sponge that looked like an ice cube.

You reached the top.

You traced the lip of the glass with your fingertips, bending over, cleavage and black diamonds, smirking.

Slid one leg in.

Cold.

Slid the other leg in.

Down, soaking yourself in the glittering water, tongue flickering, staring down at Jeon Jungkook.

"And is there room in your life... for one more breakdown?"

Now the real show was beginning, with a longer remixed version of Are you the Rabbit? as the backing music.

time left: --:--

You kissed him and he took more.

Not right away.

Slowly, with every detention.

First, it was just kisses.

You danced your fingertips on his arm and he shifted his body so it was over his chest. There wasn't much talking. Unbuttoning, yes. He was ashamed, so he didn't talk. You didn't need talking. No one was around except the janitors and they were cleaning the other wing of the school.

You knew. You served a lot of detentions.

Jeon Jungkook reached over and teased a button loose from your dress shirt, shivering.

He looked into your eyes.

You took his hand and lowered it to the next button.

He knew he shouldn't.

You scraped your chair across the floor and pressed your thigh against his, fingers gliding under his button placket, soft moan falling from your lips.

He didn't know what hit him.

He didn't know you caused trouble on purpose to stay late at school to avoid the war zone that awaited you at home. He didn't know that you were so starved for something that wasn't senseless reprimands that you were manipulating him. You didn't know either.

You only knew this was a different feeling than anger or pain, so you threw yourself in it.

Jungkook unbuttoned your school shirt and touched your skin as you touched his, breath catching in his throat as he came into contact with the softness.

The sun was setting.

Your head was tilting, placing your lips on his, sweet and intense, his fingers clumsy but gentle, curious at what was being offered, gasping as you crawled into his lap, hardness to heat.

There was no talking.

You lowered the straps of your bra, trapping your arms slightly, tugging it down. Not thinking about the consequence, not thinking that this was wrong, not thinking you shouldn't be doing this with the class representative who very clearly did not suffer from the same discourse you did.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

Unlikely that he had ever seen any in real life and doubtful that he had ever thought it would be in this context of being stuck in detention with the class delinquent. It didn’t matter. He touched them first, hands on your breasts, and then looked up, startled, unsure.

Neither of you spoke.

You grabbed his fingers and made him pinch them as you kissed him, stifling your moan with his.

To be honest, you didn't even know if you liked that sort of thing.

It just seemed shocking, so you did it.

It sent sparks all over your skin and made you bounce in his lap, grinding down on his erection. The kisses were messy with too much tongue that did nothing, clearly done to avoid talking, his hands kneading and squeezing your breasts, a little too hard, but he didn't know. You had to grip his hand and loosen his hold, getting him to adjust pressure until it was a more comfortable.

Until it was pleasurable.

He broke the kiss suddenly and lowered his head, attaching his wet lips to your nipple.

Pain.

You whimpered and his touch softened to small licks, looking up at you for confirmation.

You nodded.

time left: 11:29

You picked up the ice cube sponge and drenched your front with cascading water again, gasping at the cold against your hot skin. It seeped into the crystal-covered bra, causing your nipples to harden.

"You can't escape, can't escape..."

You tipped your head, arching your back, gracefully leaning, unfolding your legs from under you and keeping them together as you raised them to the lip of the martini glass, delicately crossing at the ankles, toes pointed.

You spun on your ass, leaning back.

"All your demons, all you demons..."

Slow, flourishing.

Eyes on Jungkook the entire time.

"Watch out, watch out for your lovers..."

You stopped gradually, running your widespread fingers up your hips, your stomach, your breasts, touching everything, tracing the black diamonds on your neck. It was vanity, it was enviable, it was performance.

And every performance was a statement of lust.

It was the instrumental now. A friend had mixed this part for you, violins and piano bleeding into the original guitar and bass, slow and steady drums, a peculiar but mesmerizing blend of classical and rock.

You rose from the water, a few wet strands of hair sticking to your cheeks, but it only added to the elegant depravity.

Your nails, pointed, black, and covered in small gems, traced your cleavage, your flexible pink tongue dancing in the air, skin covered in glitter from the shimmering water, nearly blinding in the spotlight from your crystalline undergarments and glistening wet body. Most of the time, you would wear nipple covers. The fun ones with the cute tassels or the crystal-covered ones.

But this time.

You looked straight at Jungkook and formed his name with your lips.

This time, you had a message to send.

You unclasped your bra and revealed your bare nipples.

You saw Jungkook gasp, eyes widening.

Your stagehand came and you dropped the article of clothing over the edge, practiced and clean.

You picked up the ice cube and got on your knees, exquisite body line and open red lips, squeezing the sponge and drenching your front with rivers of water that followed your curves and dripped off your hard nipples.

Your body sparkled all over.

time left: --:--

He whispered your name against your skin, your nipples tingling and drenched in his saliva.

A clatter was heard down the hall.

You both scrambled to put your clothes on. He didn't wait for you to finish. He simply bolted from the room when he was dressed, leaving you there by yourself to somehow explain why you were in detention alone.

"He went to the bathroom," you drawled when the janitor asked. You were leaning on the two back legs of the chair and he scolded you to sit properly.

Jungkook didn't come back.

You went home after you had stayed for the time you were meant to be there.

Then the mop incident occurred.

You two never spoke outside of detention. Made it a point not to. You avoided him for that whole month. Skipped class, sure, but you always skipped class. The teachers didn’t bother to punish you for that anymore. You didn’t fight anyone though. Didn’t spray any more obscene phrases onto brick walls. Didn’t do anything to compound your month-long cleaning punishment.

After that was complete, well.

The next time you were alone with Jungkook, your lower lip was clotted with blood and you had strangled some girl who said some dumb shit. Something about you being a sloppy slut for your untucked shirt and short skirt. It didn’t really matter. The words didn’t really bother you. You just wanted to fight.

Needed to fight.

You had clamped your hand around her throat and dug your nails into her skin and refused to let go until security came and literally pried your fingers from her neck.

She had turned purple and was bleeding from multiple cuts.

You sat in the back, not looking at Jungkook when he came into the classroom. They always picked days when he wasn’t doing club activities like soccer or taekwondo.

Ah, no, that was a lie.

You always picked days to cause the most trouble when Jungkook didn’t have club activities.

Neither of you said anything. He sat in the front of the room and opened his textbook to work on something. Homework, probably. That’s what he always did. He wasn’t good at it, but it didn’t really matter. He still tried to be at least mildly diligent about it for the sake of education.

You had a stack of remedial work and you didn’t touch it.

You always did homework at home to occupy yourself. That seemed to be the one thing that stopped your parents from… doing the things they did. When the night was bad, you would get slapped or pinched, but that wasn’t the same as the thrown dishes, lashes with the rod, or being ordered to do things in unreasonable timeframes to receive some creative, twisted punishment.

You skipped class to sleep.

You parents didn’t like it when you slept. They found it to be a sign of weakness and laziness.

You did so much remedial work that you were actually knowledgeable at the subjects from doing all the deep diving and expansion on difficult topics. You were also good at taking tests. You felt no pressure during exams. Exams were much easier than crawling on your knees and pulling up your shirt to get belted.

Good grades were the only reason you weren’t suspended or expelled yet.

You stared at your desk.

“I’m… sorry.”

Your eyes shifted upward. Your head didn’t move. Jungkook had turned his body to you, chewing on his lower lip, brown eyes shifting under his dark hair.

“About…”

“Slobbering all over my tits and running away?” you replied coldly.

His ears turned red; expression clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You raised your head, cocking an eyebrow. You leaned back in your chair, lifting it and balancing on the two back legs.

“I don’t give a shit,” you scoffed. You saw him stiffen at your vulgar language. “Why should I give a fuck? You’re just like the rest of them, golden boy. You think I’m a dirty slut and a good-for-nothing waste of space. You’re probably happy that I’m so easy and fuckin’ ecstatic that you got to touch a girl.”

You weren’t being fair. You were being mean, destructive, hurtful.

That how it was then.

You saw Jungkook swallow and shake his head.

“I don’t think that.”

You snorted. “Sure. That’s why you’re sitting that far away from me.”

His eyes flickered to you, narrowing a little. You spread your legs and put your hands behind your head, leaning back, creaking and scarping the chair against the floor. Your lip hurt. The security guard had slipped while trying to untangle you and elbowed your snarling mouth, causing you to bite your own lip and slice it open. He hadn’t apologized and you hadn’t asked for one.

You held his gaze.

Jungkook looked away.

You slammed the chair down onto the floor.

He jumped, startled at the loud sound.

You snatched the pile of papers in front of you and shoved them into your backpack, zipping it forcefully and standing up, school skirt swishing as you kicked the chair aside and strode powerfully to the classroom door, no longer looking at him. Veins on fire, dying on the inside for no reason at all, sick of this, sick of everyone, but especially sick of Jeon Jungkook, so sick you might throw up if you stayed.

“Hey–”

You snapped your head back, scowling over your shoulder.

“Fuck off, Jungkook. You could care less if I lived or died,” you spat, wrenching the door open.

Then you walked out.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t jumped over the desks and grabbed your arm, yanking you back and slamming the classroom door closed, shoving you against it. You snarled like a wounded animal, lifting your arm to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking, the mole underneath his lower lip trembling at the suddenness of his own action.

“I care,” he panted, staring into your eyes.

You narrowed them, seething.

“I care a lot.”

And he tilted his head and kissed you.

Pain shot up your lip, and you flinched with an injured hiss, causing Jungkook to back up, realizing his mistake, clutching your shoulders.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, that was stupid, I–”

You grabbed his hips and rammed them into yours, grinding into his crotch, sucking in a breath through your teeth, his hot gasp drifting over your open mouth, shuddering at the closeness, becoming instantly hard in his pants. The tip of your tongue danced between your teeth, touching the edge of your upper lip before sliding back in, smirking as you pressed against him.

Your backpack fell to the floor.

“I want to touch you all over,” you whispered into his quivering lips. “Want to feel your skin on mine.”

He was terrified.

“Someone… someone is going to see…”

“I can take you somewhere. You trust me?”

Jungkook bit his lip, but he stepped closer to you, shuddering, his hands sliding down your shoulders, drunk on something he didn’t understand, never having encountered such intense, sensual, raw lust. Youth and impulsivity mixed together.

Both him... and you.

His eyes darted back to yours, searching for lies.

“Yeah…”

time left: 11:11

Your hands cradled your breasts, tweaking your nipples, legs spread, head touching the lip of the two-meter-tall martini glass.

The music ended.

The lights turned off.

The curtains closed.

Fuck, the water was cold.

time left: --:--

“The Literature Club always meets in that coffee shop down the block. More vibey, they like to say. They never use their club room.”

Hands fumbling, nearly ripping off your buttons, despite to touch, trying to stay silent. You had more grace though. You found it came naturally to you, sliding your hand up his chest, undoing the buttons one by one, making Jungkook pause and gasp, savoring your touch. You kissed the exposed skin, his soft whimper, don’t hurt yourself, please, and you humming soothingly, pushing his shirt out of the way. He had a warm scent to his skin, light and clean.

Too young to own expensive cologne.

He tried to reach for your shirt again, but you stopped his hand, murmuring quietly, looking at him through your lashes.

“Let me do it.”

One by one, his eyes glued to your movements, entranced. Not the best, definitely a little awkward, but the sentiment was there, and Jungkook didn’t know any better, sitting on the edge of the table in the middle of the abandoned club room.

You lowered your shoulders and your dress shirt and blazer fell onto the floor.

“It’s dirty,” he gasped, breath hitching as you pressed your body to him.

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you,” you purred, tracing his jaw gently, stroking his skin. Something you saw in porn but it was having its desired effect, Jungkook swallowing hard, rolling his erection into your skirt.

“Sorry I can’t kiss you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

You leaned forward, forehead to forehead.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” you said to his lips.

It was different, touching him. You made note of his sounds, his voice, the way he said your name, his shaking hands, the delicateness he used to remove your bra and place it on the table. He way his lips feathered over your skin, gentle at first, learned from last time, the way he fixated on your nipples, fascinated by them and the sounds you made when he touched them, watching your face as he licked them, hotly whispering to your shivering skin.

“They’re so big… And they taste good…”

You hadn’t asked, but he was telling you anyway. Or maybe rationalizing with himself.

“And they’re soft…”

His index fingers on your nipples, pushing them around, squeezing your breasts with the rest of his hand, gasping with you, mesmerized by the way you squirmed between his legs.

You unzipped his pants and he unzipped your skirt and everything was falling to the floor.

Touching everything, raising one of your legs so he could run his fingers from your thigh to shin, warm exhale against your neck, exploring.

“Your skin is so soft and smooth,” he breathed, his other arm around your waist, holding you to his chest.

“I guess…” you mumbled, suddenly uncertain in light of his praise.

The sun was setting, casting your bodies in orange glow.

“You’re really pretty.”

You glanced at him with your busted lip and raised an eyebrow. He noticed your inquiring expression and nodded, unclear whether he was assuring you or himself. He leaned in, lashes lowering, kissing the side of your lips gently.

“You are,” he sighed against your cheek.

You took his hand and shoved it into your panties.

time left 10:20

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Dried off now, hair and makeup redone, still wearing the black diamond choker. The show costume was now cleaned off and set aside, locked back into your luggage and escorted back to your room by one of your bodyguards.

Now you wore a slinky black dress with a low V-neck and boned bodice. The hem skimmed the floor. It had a high side slit, revealing your legs and your sleek black pumps with red soles that really were too impractical for walking, but that was the nature of glamor.

You stepped out and your other bodyguard met you, escorting you to your table.

Back to the party, but this time as a guest.

time left: --:--

You weren’t stupid enough to even think about losing your virginity in some abandoned club room with the class representative. You were horny, not an idiot.

Jungkook would have, but that was because he was horny and seduced.

You weren’t, however, above climbing onto the table and rubbing your clit as Jungkook kneeled over you and jacked off while watching.

“Oh, f-fuck…”

He was embarrassed, but again, too horny and seduced to care at the current moment.

You placed your left hand on his tense thigh and licked the edge of your upper lip, heart racing, skin singing, pleasure shooting up from your core, knowing what to do because you discovered self-pleasure at a very young age. It seemed wrong.

So, you explored it.

You could tell, however, that Jungkook was not as practiced. He was wincing and his knuckles were white. Nervousness? Or inexperience?

“Wait...”

You tapped his hand.

“Let me try.”

Not that you’ve ever jacked off a dick, but your right hand was wet from your own juices, so you closed your hand around his length, surprised at the warmth. Your fingertips were slick, starting off barely grazing him, ghosting over the head.

“A-a-ah…”

Your name fell from his lips in a strangely erotic, silvery moan.

It made your blood hot and your core throb.

“Shh,” you murmured quietly, rubbing his thigh. It was strong and muscular under your palm. “Cover your mouth.”

Jeon Jungkook looked very sexy with his bangs all over his forehead and his lean torso trembling, slowly placing his right hand over his lips with a soft whimper. Not that you had seen many naked bodies in real life, but you had seen enough porn and he looked much more attractive than those guys.

You stroked him slowly, slicking your pussy juices over his length.

He groaned behind his hand, thrusting his hips into yours.

“Faster?” you whispered.

He nodded quickly and you obeyed.

“Harder?”

Nod, nod, nod. Your grip tightened.

Surreal, jacking off the class representative above your mostly naked body, still wearing your fucking shoes because it didn’t make much sense to take them off.

“Do you want to cum on my tits?” you asked, the sudden idea popping in your head.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your suggestion. His cock twitched in your hand. You gradually sped up, building the intensity as you waited for his answer. He peeled off a few fingers and shuddered, barely able to croak out his words.

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

“Cover your mouth,” you hissed.

He clamped his palm onto his mouth and panted, nostrils flaring, eyes glazing over, legs shaking.

“Sure you can, Jungkook,” you continued sweetly, as if you hadn’t just scolded him. “You want to, don’t you?”

His eyes seemed panicked. He didn’t know whether he wanted to or not. Had he never thought about it? Or did he think the act was too dirty to do, an act that was purely reserved for porn stars?

“Look at me.”

He did. Jungkook looked down at you, whole torso trembling, pupils blown out.

You gazed back at him, lowering your voice, smooth, silky, gentle.

“You want to cum on my tits, Jungkook?”

The orange sunset lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He nodded.

You slid down a little, tiptoes touching the floor, one hand on his thigh, rubbing the tenseness out as you fixed your other arm, pumping him faster, harder, following the sounds of his voice and the shivering of his skin. Later in life, you would look back on that moment and realize you didn’t have good rhythm, and your arm had been burning, causing your grip to weaken.

It didn’t really matter though, because suggesting that Jungkook could orgasm on your tits took him literal seconds to explode all over you.

“Oh, fuck–”

He choked, pitching forward, smashing the head of his cock into your right nipple and making you wince, spilling hot streams of sticky white cum all over your breast, your hand pushing it to the side, gasping at the scent, feeling his stiff length twitch and jerk in your cleavage, dribbling out more all over your skin. He lost strength in his legs, sliding down and groaning loudly, rubbing the tip in his own slick cum, smearing it everywhere.

“Shhh, damnnit!”

You clapped your left hand over his moaning mouth, half-crushed by his weight, his balls touching your cum-covered skin and sending Jungkook into another fit of wanton whines, your fingers tightly gripping his cheeks to try and get him to shut the fuck up.

You lifted your right hand, seeing his release glistening off it.

You licked your palm.

A little bitter, somewhat salty, very strong and masculine.

You liked it.

time left: 10:00

“You ready to meet her?”

“What…? N-No.”

Kim Taehyung chuckled, grabbing Jeon Jungkook’s arm, dragging him along.

“Come on.”

The thing was…

Jungkook was pretty sure he knew this woman.

He wasn’t sure how or why, but he just did. He knew her somehow. It wasn’t the same body. This one was fuller, more womanly, long legs and sophistication. It couldn’t be, he thought. He was being dragged to the table with the lone woman and the two men in dark suits and sunglasses standing behind her, her chin resting on her palm, tongue flickering out between red lips.

This face.

Not a teenager anymore.

Elegant and stylish with a hint of mischief.

It can’t be.

Her tongue touched the edge of your upper lip and slid back in, slowly.

Taehyung forced him into the chair in front of her.

“Good evening. You’re the star of the party, aren’t you?” she purred.

Smooth, silky, gentle.

“The golden boy, one might say.”

Her name left his lips before he could stop it, shock and awe.

It wasn’t the name she used on stage. It was her real name emitted from his lips, the same name he uttered that day in the abandoned literature club room, struggling with the tiny pack of leftover tissues he kept in his schoolbag to wipe off her chest, stuttering, apologizing, saying he didn’t know how to reciprocate, and her hand gripping his shoulder, telling him to shut up and worry about it later because they had to get the fuck out of here since it was dark already.

And now.

She smiled at him.

“Hello, Jungkook.”

time left: --:--

They snuck around and it was euphoria.

Even now, Jungkook didn't know why he did it. It seemed dangerous and ill-advised. She was the class delinquent, after all. She knew all the empty classrooms no one ever used, the side closets, the forgotten halls. She even knew the usual paths the janitors and security guards used and the time they spent in those areas of the school. They would hide behind corners and dash past, holding their breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing.

They didn't even talk during school hours.

He saw her sometimes, in the hallways.

Untucked shirt and skirt too short, not looking at anyone, wandering about.

He never noticed before, but everyone avoided being in her path.

On the days after school when he didn't have club activities, he would find himself standing in front of the abandoned literature club door and opening it. She would be laying down in the table, legs dangling over the edge, staring out the window. She would sit up and they'd run around.

And she would touch him.

And he would touch her.

"Stop that, I'm not a stress ball."

"Ah, slow down."

"Jungkook..."

It was the weirdest feeling, touching someone like that.

Thinking about now, he realized how patient she was with him. Occasionally, he'd be too overzealous and discomfort flashed in her eyes, but she didn't snap at him outright, didn't put him down when she could have. She knew all the words to do so. But she didn't. She just sighed and put up with it. She didn't fight anymore, because she was spending all her time with him.

There were no more detentions, because after hours was now reserved for touching.

Jungkook would catch her smiling sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking. The first time was when he was putting his shirt back on and her face was reflected in the window.

She was gazing at his back, smiling.

He had never seen her smile like that, ever.

It always disappeared when she caught him looking at her face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Every time, only through reflection – mirrors, windows, a polished beaker in the science lab. His body pressed against the window, gasping at the coldness of the glass, worried that someone would see even though they were on the third floor of the back building and no one was going to come here, but he never said it because her reflection was smiling at him, her hands sliding up his body, and it made him speechless, seeing that smile. A smile those lips only made when she was with him.

It was his smile.

Her mouth on his neck, kisses and licks, setting his skin on fire, the kind of sensuality that only came with undeniable attraction.

It wasn't until after her that he realized how easy it had been to tell her things, small things, simple things. Things he didn't even realize he said until he felt her shiver a little in his arms, eyes shifting away from him, pink tinge to her cheeks.

"I like the way you sound."

"Your hands are beautiful."

"I like looking into your eyes."

Little by little, though.

She skipped class more and more.

He found bruises on her sometimes.

"I fell down the stairs. It's nothing."

He found welts.

"Stupid fight with some dumbass."

He found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

"I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up."

Jungkook would look into her eyes and realize they were lies.

She would scoff. "I'm just a dumbass."

"No."

And he would kiss her and kiss her until she shoved him away and told him he was being weird.

One time, before he was about to leave, she asked him a question.

"What do you want to do, Jungkook?"

"Huh?"

She snickered. "As a job. You know, when you become an adult."

He frowned. "I don't know. I want to create things. I think it would be cool to tell stories. But I don't know if I have enough imagination for that... or know the words to say what I want..."

"Films, then."

"Huh?"

A small smirk. "Movies, dork. Make movies."

He blinked slowly. "O... oh."

When Jungkook looked into her eyes, he realized he didn't want to look away. "What about you?"

She smiled.

The only time she smiled in front of him.

And it was a lie.

He could tell, because it didn't reach her eyes, his favorite feature of her face.

"I might not make it there."

She turned and walked away from him.

He never saw her again.

She never came back to school. Nobody seemed to notice and, when they did, students and teachers alike seemed relieved. Jungkook had no one to talk to about his sudden emptiness, because she had been his accidental secret, his little taste of heaven turned hell because she never came back. The eventual rumors said that she had done something very bad and was sent away.

It was only then that Jungkook realized how happy he had been and how he never told her.

There was no reason to dwell on it. In retrospect, it didn't even last that long. He hadn't even fully lost his virginity to her. But time after time, relationship after relationship, smile after smile, he realized he missed the moments, the sneaking around, the touches, the look into the window and her genuine smile as she looked at his back.

He never found a smile like that one.

He accepted that he never would.

Settled for a fun girl who made him laugh and laughed at his awkward jokes and accepted that was enough, that he shouldn't chase ghosts, should try to find what ultimately was dangerous, ill-advised, and...

It wasn't love, right?

I want to kiss you all the time.

Jungkook didn't know why, but every time he remembered those words, he wanted to cry.

time left: 09:55

This smile, too, was fake.

“Hello, Jungkook.”

This isn’t real, right?

“Did you enjoy the show?” she, his ghost, asked, tilting her head, foxy smile on those lips, more of a smirk, teasing and sculptural. Those eyes were guarded, eyes that he thought he knew well, but there were walls between him and her now, walls he found himself banging his fists against, sudden panic and anxiousness at the moment, abruptly slamming his hands on table and scraping his chair back, throwing his body aside.

She looked at him.

For a single second, they were in high school again and they were in that abandoned literature club room, her on the table, waiting for him.

Jungkook ran.

He ran away from the table and left her there.

time left: 09:52

You watched him go.

time left: 08:27

You threw your glass into the hotel wall and screamed.

Screamed at the top of your lungs, screamed so loud it felt like your eardrums burst, screamed in agony and loss, the crystal shattering as it hit the wall, cracking and spilling the whiskey within all over the paint and onto the floor.

Then, silence.

You panted, staring at the mess, feeling the floor rock under you. You had a private room on the yacht, considering you were the entertainment. If they were paying for you, you made them pay for room and board too, and that was no exception with Kim Taehyung, the one who hired you. After all, there was no reason not to have some fun, right?

The door opened and your two bodyguards entered, saying your name gently.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice was deep, compassionate. He could tell from your stance that it wasn’t an outward influence, but an inward one. You were breathing hard, staring at the broken glass and the alcohol, mind racing, throat dry, despair threatening.

“I’m fine,” you replied shakily.

You were still dressed in your long gown, black, slinky, sexy, still wearing your black diamond choker, still wearing your Louboutins, the epitome of style and class.

Still.

You dropped to your knees and began to crawl to the glass, a child again.

“I’ll clean it up…”

Your voice was cracking.

In two steps, long legs crossed the room and a strong hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you.

“Let Seokjin do it.”

The world was very small now, just you and the fallen glass, small and tiny and condensed, screaming, pain, memories flashing in your mind, your hands bleeding as you picked up the broken glass, surrounded by it on all sides, flinching as multiple glasses were thrown at the wall, showering you with shards and alcohol, the stink of blood and drink surrounding you. You barely registered the other bodyguard bending over with a towel, sweeping up the shards, because you were trapped in that night, that night after asking Jeon Jungkook what he wanted to do for a living, coming back to a house full of hate and rage, harshly questioning where you’ve been, slapping you across the face, threatening that they were going to withdraw you from the school because clearly you didn’t need it, a flood of blood in your mouth as your teeth sliced the inside of your cheek.

I might not make it there.

The hand was holding your shoulder, holding you back, but your mind was throwing you to the wolves.

You almost screamed again.

You did scream that night, clutching handfuls of glass, driving them into those accusing faces, driving them over and over into those faces that used you as their punching bag for years and years, slashing them up, tearing up skin and flesh, dying on the inside, because the only thing that kept you alive was Jeon Jungkook and those touches.

Did you mean them?

Even now, you didn’t know.

Did you just chase them because they felt real?

Even now, you didn’t know.

I want to kiss you all the time.

They sent you to correctional school, which was really just a nice way to say jail for children.

Your name, spoken softly, two hands on your shoulders now, pulling you away from the scene of Kim Seokjin cleaning up your mess, forcing you to look away and at him instead, sunglasses removed now, deep brown eyes bringing you back to the present.

“N… Namjoon…?”

He smiled at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You almost looked away again, but he held your cheeks, not letting you.

“What’s my full name?” His tone was stern, but grounded.

“K… Kim Namjoon.”

“And yours?”

Your voice didn’t hesitate this time.

He smiled. When Namjoon smiled, his dimples showed and his normally stone-face expression changed, becoming bright and serene. He lowered his hands, holding one out to you.

“Come on now. You don’t belong on the floor like this.”

You took his hand, swallowing hard. One leg, then the other. With each passing second, you fell back into your grace, breathing out, slow, controlled. Namjoon held your hand tightly, not letting go. They both had training in psychology, for threats.

Not all threats were outward threats.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been like that in a while,” you exhaled evenly, shaking your head. “I didn’t think…”

“Seeing someone from your past can do that.”

Seokjin walked up to you, black-haired and sunglasses removed as well, brown eyes softening as he neared, wiping off his hands. He was only slightly shorter than Namjoon, but possibly more handsome, with even fuller lips and a symmetrical face. Namjoon had slightly lighter hair, cut shorter, and he was the stoic one, whereas Seokjin was the one who spoke when pleasantries were required.

“Ah…”

You frowned.

“It was just a high school fling. Nothing serious.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. Seokjin snorted.

“Right. Do you think we don’t have eyeballs? We do. Two of them, in fact,” Seokjin remarked coolly, rolling his. “Two on two people, making four, and all four eyeballs saw the way you and him looked at each other, not to mention your sudden interest in bachelor parties and working at a lower base rate for literally no reason whatsoever.”

You cleared your throat, eyes narrowing. “Taehyung’s a friend.”

“Taehyung’s an airhead you bonked because old men don’t have virility,” Namjoon pointed out.

“You should just hook up with Taehyung again instead of bachelor boy. He seemed like a damn virgin.”

Namjoon elbowed Seokjin in the ribs and the older man winced, giving him a ‘what-the-fuck-was-that-for’ look. Namjoon rolled his eyes, as if to say, ‘isn’t-it-fucking-obvious-bro’ and Seokjin’s expression remained confused.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t… going to hook up with him.”

Now they both gave you the ‘stop-bullshitting’ face.

You sighed, about to run your fingers through your hair, but stopped when your realized it was still styled. You lowered your hand, not wanting to disturb it. “He’s getting married. I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

Your eyes flickered up to Namjoon. He shrugged.

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize you don’t want him to get married. Maybe only because you want to wreck it. Maybe to make his life miserable. Maybe because you love him.”

“I don’t love him,” was your instant reply.

Seokjin seemed to have a lightbulb moment and plunked his fist in his palm. “Oooooooh.”

You narrowed your eyes. Namjoon sighed. “Okay, you don’t.”

A knock on the door.

time left: 07:59

Jeon Jungkook was throwing up in the bathroom.

His hands were flat on the wall and the toilet was swaying. Of course, it was. He was on a boat. He heaved again and hurled into the bowl, mind swimming.

“Dude, the fuck was your problem? Why did you run like that? I know she wasn’t mean to you. That’s not like her. You know, if you asked, you could have fucked her. She’s a burlesque dancer! It would have been amazing. One last hurrah before you commit single suicide. But, no, you fucking booked it like a cockroach when the lights turn on. Hah,” Kim Taehyung, his best man, had scolded him, shaking his head. “Eh, fine, whatever. Let’s just get wasted them. I can’t believe you would do that. She came here as a favor to me, dude. I wanted you to have a really good time tonight. She’s one of the coolest people I’ve ever met or fucked.”

“You fucked her?” Jungkook had sputtered.

Taehyung had raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, once. Was fuckin’ sick. She’s a banger.”

He had drunk so much. Why, he didn’t know. He flushed the toilet, coughing. His blazer was gone. He had no idea where it was. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt half-unbuttoned. It was so damn hot. Where was his tie? No idea. His brain was a jumbled mess.

His chest hurt too.

Jungkook stumbled out of the stall, pushing his long black hair back and away from his face. It was a one-person bathroom, but the toilet was in a separate area. Probably for sanitary reasons. He clutched the sink, running the water, staring at his reflection.

His own face looked back at him, silver brow piercing gleaming in the harsh overhead light, his skin pale and lips shiny from vomiting.

Were there walls in his eyes too?

He cupped some water and rinsed out his mouth, spitting it out. Ugh, the taste was disgusting. He kept doing it, splashing his face, trying to clear his head. He didn’t really remember what he did or what happened. It was all a blur. It was very late now, but the party was still going. After the burlesque show, there were musical acts, and, at the moment, a DJ was tearing it up.

He should be out there.

Jungkook knew this and yet the thought of going back out there was making him sick again.

He looked back to the mirror, his face dripping water. He wasn’t a teenager anymore either. He was older now, cheek fat gone, turned into an angled jaw. Dark circles under his eyes from long nights. His life after high school was university and filmmaking, spending all his spare time creating his films from the ground up, from casting to storyboarding to finding film locations to the actual shooting and editing and production. As he got better at it, more people became involved and he had help, attending film festivals and showcasing his work despite his young age. Met lots of cool people.

Met his future wife, a reasonable union, but not a replacement for his broken heart.

His brows furrowed.

What kind of thought was that?

True, they both came to an agreement that it made sense to get married. They liked each other enough, everyone said they looked nice together, and there wasn’t any reason not to, right? And starting a family would be good for her career too. She could transition to that kind of lifestyle content after a couple years of marriage. They would figure that out when the time came, buy a nice place to live, have maybe one or two children, housewife and working husband.

And she wasn’t going to come back to him anyway.

Except she did.

Jungkook breathed out.

“What are you doing?” he said to his reflection, but his reflection only repeated the question back to him.

The class delinquent and the class representative.

“That was a long time ago,” he said to himself. “Those kinds of things don’t matter anymore.”

In his mind, her smile appeared in the mirror, because she only smiled at him when she thought he didn’t see. His smile. The smile she reserved for him. The smile when she looked at his back, the smile when her hands traced his torso, her breath on his skin, murmuring his name, wonderment and desire, putting up with his clumsiness and overzealous touch, things he continued to do after her with other people, and yet it never felt…

“It never felt the same,” he whispered.

His fingertips were touching the mirror, the place where his mind had conjured her smile.

“I thought it was only because you were my first.”

He thought of the woman on stage hours before, that beautiful face shrouded by ostrich feathers and painted with makeup, immaculate body lines and sensual movement, and it was like no time had passed at all, because she had always been like that, naturally sensual and erotic, teasing and sculptural. Untucked shirt and short skirt or crystal undergarments, it didn’t matter.

“You were always like that, weren’t you?”

She wasn’t there.

His fingertips lowered from the mirror. His black hair was damp from pushing it away from his face with wet hands. Lots of people told him he was good-looking. Handsome. Attractive. But he couldn’t move like that, like how she did on stage. He was better behind the camera. That was where he had always been. The director, the class representative.

And now, she, the class delinquent, was the main stage, all cameras and eyes on her.

He shook his head.

“You’re better off now. Look at you. Wearing beautiful clothes and followed by bodyguards. I bet you have a really nice guy waiting for you at home, wherever that is for you.”

He couldn’t see her face, couldn’t conjure it in his mind’s eye anymore. He wouldn’t be able to see it anyway, mostly because his vision was suddenly blurry.

“I hope you’re happy, because a long time ago, you made me really happy.”

He wiped his eyes, smiling at his reflection. It didn’t reach his eyes, because his eyes were full of tears.

His smile was a lie.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know. I know now.”

A knock on the door.

time left 07:22

“I’m so sorry he’s a dork, I don’t know what got into him, I swear you’re not ugly, you’re super sexy, like, impossibly sexy, god, he’s such a fucking idiot, I should have convinced him to whip his dick out or somethin’, I thought he’d get the hint, you know, I bet he’s good in bed, have you seen him, he’s real fit, works out a ton, a muscle pig, haha, yeah…”

“Taehyung, how did you get so drunk?”

You sighed as you hurried after Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon who were both carrying Kim Taehyung, one arm on each of their broad shoulders, the brown-haired man babbling the entire time. He showed up at your door, maybe by chance, maybe by knocking on every single room until he got to yours, who knew, but he had clearly been looking for you, bursting in when he saw you, pushing past Seokjin, nearly making you trip on your Louboutins, spouting nonsense about Jeon Jungkook, apologizing profusely for his friend, not listening to you saying that it was perfectly fine.

The three of your concluded it would be best to bring Taehyung back to his friend, but Taehyung would not leave without you, saying he didn’t want to be left with the ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’. Namjoon and Seokjin had stared at each other, pointing to themselves sin disbelief, sharing a ‘we’re-scary?’ expression. You had given up.

“Sure, fine, I’ll come, I was meaning to go back to the bar anyway. I don’t have to interact with him. Soekjin can do it.”

“Ah, of course. I got this!”

You were on your way back to the grand hall, when Taehyung had a declaration.

“I gotta hurl.”

Then it was a mad scramble to find a restroom, hurriedly banging on the doors. There was many single gender-neutral restrooms everywhere on the yacht, but all seemed occupied. Taehyung was rapidly turning an unpleasant shade of green, until one opened.

“Oh, hey, Jungkook. I’m gonna vomit.”

“Sorry, if you could–”

The tall man in black was shoved aside, and all three – Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung – crammed themselves into the restroom, wrenching open the door to the toilet and then there was a loud retching sound.

You winced, recoiling a little. “Oh, dear.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Guess he was trying to enjoy his night a little too much,” you chuckled, amused as you watched Seokjin rub Taehyung’s back soothingly while jerking his head back, looking incredibly perturbed. Seokjin didn’t like gross things. He was a bit of a prince like that.

“I guess.”

It suddenly occurred to you that the voice beside you was Jeon Jungkook.

He was standing right next to you.

You turned your head.

Time seemed to stop.

He almost seemed to the same, but different. He had long, black hair that was currently swept back, the sides buzzed short and ears adorned with earrings. An eyebrow piercing. Chiseled jaw and high cheekbones like a marble statue, with dark brows and shapely lips. Muscular chest, broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs. A right sleeve of ink-black tattoos, going all the way down to his hand. You could tell because his dress shirt sleeves were rolled up.

Who was the delinquent now?

Your eyes found his.

Those eyes were still the same, staring at you, entranced with your gaze.

Still the class representative everyone picked because of his good looks.

Even you voted for him, although you didn’t really care who won. You only picked him because he seemed the least qualified and you thought it would be funny if he won, because he wasn’t even trying to get the position.

Taehyung groaned and declared he was never drinking again.

“I don’t know you, but I don’t believe you,” Seokjin scoffed.

“I’m inclined to believe this isn’t your normal behavior, so don’t be too hard on yourself,” Namjoon chuckled.

Taehyung heaved again.

You noticed Jungkook’s complexion had that paleness to him too. His lips and hair were glistening with water. A droplet collected on his chin and fell to the floor.

“Two peas in a pod, huh?” you said with a smirk. “Seems like you two have the same drinking habits.”

His ears turned red, but he didn’t look away, electing instead to raise his hands and cover his ears, pretending to tuck spare strands back. “A-ah… well… I’m much better now…”

You nodded, bouncing an eyebrow. “Back to the party you go. Only to attend another one with your beloved. Maybe you both will end up in the same bathroom. Wouldn’t that be fun?” you added with a dry chuckle.

It died out quickly, for something seemed to cloud Jungkook’s eyes at your words.

“Your performance was breathtaking,” he said, changing the subject.

You bowed. “Thank you.” You lifted your head. “It was, after all, for you. I am pleased to hear you enjoyed it.”

His hands lowered. He still didn’t look away from you, ears tinted pink.

“Your movements are unreal.”

He always had beautiful eyes, even back then.

“But they always were. Now and back then.”

You were different people now though. He had someone else. You were too busy being booked to have someone else. You didn’t want someone else. After graduating correctional school, which basically meant being released from jail, you had run away before your parents could pick you up, hitchhiking until you met an older woman. She was a traveling woman, an independent one. A dancer. She stuck with you with her words and her brashness, not letting you run off on your own any longer.

Don’t be stupid. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to teach you. You can have any kind of life you want. You can live any way you want. But it’s no good to think that everyone is out to get you, you silly bean. You have to find some dorks to trust and have your back when things get shit. You have to have a job to sustain yourself so you can be financially secure. What do you have to lose? Why not try this?

She was a strange woman, but a wise one. One that was retiring soon and wanted a protégé to teach, for fun, for picking up her clients, it didn’t matter. She gave you a chance when you didn’t have one.

What if you live like this?

You thought, fuck it. Why not?

Wasn’t like you were going to see Jeon Jungkook again anyway.

Except he was right here.

You chuckled. “It takes a lot of practice. I’ve spent many hours tripping on my own feet, believe me.”

The side of his lips quirked upward. “I’m sure you look graceful even when you trip. You were pretty even when you were beating up upperclassmen and sulking in detention with a busted lip.”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked back to him.

There was sharpness in your chest as you realized there was pinkness to the whites of his eyes and sadness in his voice. It was like you were back in the classroom for a moment and he was meters away from you, saying I’m sorry, but this time you were adults and he was right next to you and you didn’t know the reason why he was sorry, because there was nothing to be sorry for.

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“We’re going to bring him back to his room.”

You jerked your head to Namjoon, who was carrying a now extremely unsteady Taehyung. Seokjin was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon spoke curtly, stone-faced and serious.

“Hyung went to ask for his exact room number. In the meantime, Taehyung pointed us in the general direction while he was rinsing out his mouth. It would be hazardous to leave him alone. I will assist him and rendezvous with hyung midway.”

You blinked at him. Namjoon tended to speak this way around strangers when he was putting his professional mode on. He looked from you to Jungkook, eyes narrowing, looking down at him. With his short hair and stern gaze, he was intimidating, even while holding a woozy Taehyung with a lolling head.

“I expect you to escort her back to her room safely.”

And he turned and marched off, dragging Taehyung along with him.

“Hey, you like bees? I like bees. They help flowers…”

“That they do. They’re vital for all ecosystems by aiding pollination.”

“Bees are fuckin’ lit, dude…”

You watched them go, wincing. Maybe this was better. The bodyguards were for your safety, but it wasn’t like you didn’t know how to disarm someone with your Louboutins. Also, you didn’t really want to wander around the yacht listening to Taehyung ramble about bees.

Now, you were alone with Jungkook.

You looked at him over your shoulder, the side of your lips curving upwards.

“I’ll be fine on my own. It’s only a short walk. Good night.”

You began to walk away from him, and, in turn, the classroom from back then, away from his I’m sorry, away from those eyes, away from his care, because Jeon Jungkook did not care about you. There was no reason to care about you. Those events happened a long time ago. You were different people now, grown up, living separate lives.

Changed.

No longer class representative and class delinquent.

He was about to have a wife and you were swimming with too much money you had no idea what to do with, busy planning ideas for your next performance and organizing venues for a possible tour. This was just a favor to Kim Taehyung, nothing more. It was fine to leave it like this.

It was foolish to think anything would be same.

It was time to move on.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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