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ramonathinks · 4 months ago

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matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.

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curryshesus · 5 months ago

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jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul

in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members

➺ bitchin - by @kinktae

summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien

summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton

summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts

summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts

summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces

➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie

summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons

summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

➺ changes in between - by @taegularities

summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie

summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

➺ sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild

summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae

summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash

summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.

➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates

summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

5K notes · View notes

selfcarecap · 25 days ago

Text

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him.

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it.

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it?

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead?

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.

He could give it to you.

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing?

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it.

Sappy motherfucker.

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep.

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse.

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks.

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you.

He wakes up with morning wood.

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.

It’s soo stupid.

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps.

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you.

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again.

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself.

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist?

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him.

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw.

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone.

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw?

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it.

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it.

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.”

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.

“Did you draw it?” He asks.

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

“Secret admirer?”

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended.

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that.

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.”

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all.

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven.

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end.

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?).

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time.

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him?

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know.

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight.

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid.

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say.

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that).

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile.

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh.

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him.

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears.

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is.

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him.

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his.

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long.

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better.

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access.

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide.

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged.

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead.

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath.

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine.

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still.

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head.

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while.

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is.

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #selfcarecap

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dollfacefantasy · 19 days ago

Text

LITTLE BAMBI EYES ♡

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: how leon loves you so. his beautiful bride. he loves your sweet face and pretty eyes. he just can't understand why he loves to see both overcome with tears.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, blowjob, dacryphilia, daddy kink, age gap (20s, late 30s)

a/n: thank you to whoever requested this. i've been kinda missing daddy leon </3

kinktober slot: day 19 - dacryphilia

Sometimes you make Leon feel like a horrible person.

It's not anything you do or say. Nothing intentional on your part at all. Honestly, it's kind of just his default setting around you simply for the fact that you're wearing a ring on your finger that ties you to him for the rest of your life while also being over ten years younger than him.

You've told him over and over that it's not a big deal. This is the modern world, baby. He just has to get with the times. No one cares about the two of you, and even if they do, who gives a shit? You're a responsible adult, and the two of you love each other. That's all there is to it.

And while he tends to agree with your speeches in the moment, they don't completely erase the guilt from his subconscious. Though his feelings of unease would probably remain at that deeper level if not for days like today.

Today, Leon had arrived home from a mission. It had been a particularly long one, spanning almost a whole month. Nearly thirty days of waiting around and doing recon work, tasks that could've been done by those on a lower level of the government's hierarchy than him, before completing the objective. He was more than ready to come home to you. The longing to see your face again, to hear your voice, it was practically a physical ailment at this point.

The moment he came through the door you were there. You latched onto him and wouldn't let go. He had to drop his stuff by the entryway so he could scoop you up and carry you to the nearest chair in the living room.

He sits down with you in his lap, allowing you to smother him in kisses and fuss over how he looks so tired. But what makes him feel so awful, what causes the gnawing ache that festers in his chest in regards to your relationship is when he sees your eyes begin to grow misty.

It starts with watery eyes and then your voice cracks and you can barely get a word out before you're whimpering and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. You cry and cry about how you were so worried and you missed him so much and you never want him to leave you again.

The whole thing makes him feel guilty on a surface level. He never wants to make his pretty little wife cry. He doesn't want her going sick with worry because of him. But the other layer of this thing that truly makes him feel like something is wrong with him comes from the fact that your display of emotion gets him hard.

He tries with everything he has to stop it. He's not even sure what it really is about it that gets him going like this. In his mind, he tries to rationalize that he just finds it sweet that you miss him. It's just cute, it's not something he needs to agonize over. He doesn't really know, but also when the blood starts rushing South, he doesn't really care.

You sniffle and tighten your arms around his torso while he coos at you and rubs your back. He hushes you gently while adjusting in his seat to make sure you don't feel the swell of his bulge just yet. Sure, he's turned on by your tears, but that doesn't make him inconsiderate. He lets you get most of it out first before trying anything else.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's ok. I'm right here, baby. I made it home safe and sound like always," he murmurs against your hairline, "There's no reason to cry, I don't want you wasting any tears on me."

He swipes away those small droplets of water with his thumb before directing you to look up at him. Your expression makes him smile. Despite their sadness, your eyes gleam with so much love. Your lip wobbles with all the care that pumps through your beating heart.

"So emotional," he teases softly, "C'mon, sweetheart, gimme a kiss. Let me make it better."

Without hesitation, you lean in. He smirks against your lips, cupping your cheek and guiding you in the exchange. It's the opening he needs to make things seem natural. He can act like he's just so pent up from being away that a few kisses got him hot under the collar. Not that he popped a boner as soon as he saw tears pooling against your lash line.

It works. You scoot closer and feel the stiff length graze your thigh. It'd been a long time since you'd had him too. Feeling that familiar hardness against your soft flesh is all it takes for explicit ideas to begin blooming in your mind.

Before he knows it, you're on your knees between his legs. Your lips slide up and down his cock, gliding the shaft into your warm, wet mouth down to your throat. His head tilts back against the sagging cushion of his chair. He pets the crown of your head while you work, wordless appreciation for your efforts.

A deep sigh leaves him as your tongue traces along the veins. You get a groan out of him for flicking your tongue at the ridge. After a few more sucks, you pull off and stroke him instead.

He hears a soft sniffle. His eyes snap down to you on the floor, and he realizes that you're still crying. A moan bubbles up in his throat. He tries to stifle it, but parts of it still break free.

"Hey, hey. What- what's wrong? You ok?" he chokes out, trying to sound normal and not like he's about to lose it.

You nod while looking up at him with those glossy eyes. Your hand doesn't stop pumping him as tears roll down your cheeks.

"I just missed you so much," you whimper.

Your knuckles graze your cheek. The duality of your cute, tear-streaked face next to your skilled hand jerking him off is nearly too much to take in.

"I'm right here," he says, trying to offer comfort, "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah, but you don't get it. I just missed you," you cry again. Another few drops fall as you blink and your lip quivers.

In a way, Leon does understand. It's not that you're currently upset, it's just lingering feelings causing your emotions to act up a bit. He doesn't have a problem with it regardless of the cause though. Not if this is the result.

You go back in to suckle the tip. Your lips wrap around him in a little, perfect 'o.' It feels like you've come straight from heaven to do this for him. He doesn't think it can get any better until you look up at him. Seeing your eyes full of tears while you pleasure him is a whole other kind of sensation.

Hissing in ecstasy, he knows for certain now that he can't last that. He gently guides your mouth off before yanking you up into his lap.

"Can't have you crying like that, honey. Let daddy make it better," he mutters while tugging your shorts down and haphazardly working them off of you.

You help him out and shimmy your panties down too before lining his cock up at your entrance and sinking down. The whole month since you'd last taken it was worth it now. You bounce up and down, letting the familiar filling sensation seep in.

Cries pour from your lips openly, and his eyes roll back. His hands rest on your hips with a loose grip. The touch is present enough to offer the illusion that he's helping.

"Feels so good," you whimper.

"Does it, baby? Just what you were missing, huh?" he rasps.

You nod quickly as your body rises and falls. He feels you squeezing around him, your walls fluttering each time he splits you open.

Once he's calmed down a bit, he starts to rock his hips upwards against yours. He drives himself a little deeper inside you, nudging all the spots you weren't hitting before. You tilt forward and put your head back against his throat like you'd had it earlier.

"That's right. Keep crying for me," he grunts as he picks up his own pace a bit, "Let daddy hear how much you missed him."

Another sob tumbles from you as if prompted by the command. He holds you close and rubs your back like this is a normal method of soothing you. Tears leak out against his throat, trickling down to his collarbone. He can feel the warm liquid and the brush of your eyelashes on his sensitive skin.

"My good girl. Daddy's got you," he sighs.

He pounds up into you with a few more thrusts. The rock of his hips slides his pelvis against your clit, working you towards the end. You whimper and cling to him, arms wrap around his shoulders with the strength of a vise.

"So pretty when you're all weepy for me," he murmurs.

His hands tighten around your waist, actually keeping you in place now for him to thrust into. He grits his teeth. The sensation in the pit of his stomach lets him know he's close to the edge too.

"Fuck... you close, angel?" he asks.

You nod, still not lifting your head from the safety of his shoulder.

The response is good enough for him though. He can feel you clamping around him. Every stroke elicits a wet squelch from between your bodies. You're gushing for him, ready to explode. Tears pour from your eyes in a seemingly endless supply.

"Let me have it. Don't hold back," he directs in a strained tone while creeping to the high himself.

He thrusts in deep and slams you down on him before spilling his load inside you. The sensation brings you to your peak and rips another cry from you. You hiccup out a moan between the sobs. Your nails dig into his shoulders while your body shudders. Even though you'd only cum once, it feels like everything is overloaded.

His hips continue to move, fucking his release into you and working you through the waves of euphoria.

"Fuck-" he hisses, "That's my girl. Fuck, you're my girl. My baby. So good for me."

His fucked out words hit your ears and get you feeling all loopy. Your head stays against his shoulder, content to rest there while he takes what he needs. A few more tears slide out against your silken skin.

Your body feels limp on top of his by the time you're both through it. He feels boneless too, sunken into his seat while catching his breath.

You're still crying a little bit. He can hear it right by his ear. To get more comfortable, he reaches down and pulls the lever that causes the chair to recline. It pushes you fully against his body and lets him hold you better. His fingers trace little circles on the small of your back while his other arm drapes across your shoulder blades.

"I missed you too, baby," he whispers with a small kiss to your head.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut

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seungkw1 · 1 month ago

Text

love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace.

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements.

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become.

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it.

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you.

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak.

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot.

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool.

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you.

“Love you too.”

You freeze.

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment.

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject.

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you.

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys.

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further.

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains.

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name.

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further.

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home.

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him.

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung.

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat. “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him.

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours.

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?”

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs.

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly.

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates.

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now.

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture.

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies.

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you.

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.

A smile creeps onto his face.

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands.

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him.

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit.

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat.

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more.

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near.

“Feels so good baby.”

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.”

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this.

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head.

“C’mere,” he pleads softly.

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch.

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours.

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear.

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear.

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms.

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep.

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt.

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit.

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second.

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you.

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again.

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud.

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you.

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy.

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade.

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs.

“Don’t stop,” you beg.

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release.

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…”

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move.

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin.

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently.

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right.

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe.

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face.

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss.

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm.

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you.

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

2K notes · View notes

0097linersb · 4 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 (m)

Pairings: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 15k ~

Warnings: It´s a smut so +18 MDNI pls

Follow me on twitter: wooyosgfreal <3

Part 2

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

As someone who has been single for the past 2 years, you often found yourself missing certain things and feelings. It´s not even the dating in itself that you craved, you were in fact, very content with being alone, and after all your inner healing and growth, you didn´t even think you were ready for a relationship at this point in your life. But as you and Wooyoung were on your couch lazily spending the afternoon, you found your body and mind screaming for comfort at the sight of the rainy day outside.

Your friend had his head on your lap as he played some online shooting game on his phone, the movie you intended on watching now only serving as background noise as you drifted off, hands absent-mindedly playing with the strands of his hair that fell on top of your thighs.

Hand-holding.

That´s something you really missed. The feeling of interlacing fingers with someone as warmness spread through your body. When you were dating, you weren´t even that into holding hands, uncomfortable with not being able to move freely or with the way your palm seemed to always feel clammy – But now? You would kill for a chance to walk around a park linked with someone.

You also really missed being so familiar with someone that you just felt at ease, having a person there to do nothing or everything with, being able to talk or gossip about anything. You remember spamming Mingyu´s chat with every little thing that happened during your day and him just being genuinely happy to hear about it, replying to every single message in order. As your best friend, Wooyoung was someone you talked to a lot, but you still couldn´t text him about how you already drank 6 glasses of water or how you were annoyed because your stapler kept getting stuck – Those are the annoying little things you only get to share with a significant other that has the obligation to put up with you.

And showering together. You almost felt dramatic tears fill your eyes at the thought of it; sharing the hot stream of water with someone, have them rub soap down your back or massage shampoo onto your scalp, or just simply holding someone in the dark under the running water as steam filled the room.

Oh, and free massages. You definitely missed those, being able to ask for a massage at whatever given moment with the certainness that you would receive one. Mingyu´s love language had always been acts of service, meaning you wouldn´t spend a single day without his hands squeezing your shoulders or rubbing down your back.

Maybe you should call Mingyu. Something along the lines of “hey, I know we broke up a few years ago but can you come like, hold me for a minute? Cuddle until we fall asleep?”

You were so touch deprived you could cry.

There was also the intimate part of a relationship; You had tried casual sex, one-night stands, friends with benefits, even a Tinder hook up once – It just wasn´t for you. It´s not even the sex on itself that you longed for, you could spend another few years without it if it came down to it. But you did miss what came with being intimate with someone who truly cared about you. When it comes to casual flings, people are normally selfish (yourself included), doing the bare minimum to get the other person off but truly aiming for their own pleasure; it was nice being with someone who´s main priority was making you feel good without the need of having the “favor returned”.

What you really did miss though, was a bit cruder: You missed the feeling of someone´s dick in your mouth, the groans and whines that came with it, hands tangled in your hair, your tongue tracing hot veins as someone praised you. You missed having someone´s fingers inside of you, your walls tight around them as they pumped in and out of you with ease. You also really fucking missed someone eating you out.

You subconsciously pulled a bit on Wooyoung´s hair out of frustration but he didn´t seem to notice, eyes fixated on his game. You gently pat his head where you had tugged on the strands and went back to playing with his hair, letting your mind take you away once again.

Again, it´s not like your relationship with Mingyu ended badly, surely, he wouldn´t mind if you called him up to go down memory lane for a night-

You had never noticed how plump Wooyoung´s lips were.

He had a habit of pouting when he was focused, or biting on his lips when he was extra concentrated – which he was doing just now as he tried to shoot at someone who was trying to kill him. When he finally managed to take out the other player and escape, he let his bottom lip go, now all red and glistening as he cursed out loud. They just looked so soft and plushy, and the mole he had on his bottom lip –

You suddenly realized you were kind of obsessed with Wooyoung´s nose shape. You know what people say about big noses… Also, how good would it feel bumping against -

“You´re being way too nice. What´s going on?” Wooyoung´s voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump in shock and realization that you were just thinking about your friend eating you out.

“I am nice, just not to you,” You correct, meeting his eyes which were looking up as you noticed you were still running your fingers through his hair.

“I have very strong opinions about that, but either way, it´s what I meant. Why are you being nice to me?”

“Am I?”

“I remember very clearly the last time I asked you to cuddle me, almost got down on my knees begging and you just looked at me like I had rolled around in the trash.”

“You were quiet today, behaving like a normal person-”

“Go on, call me a good boy. I know you want to,” He rolls his eyes.

You laugh out loud at that; he did know you well.

“Nah, you´ve ruined it the moment you opened your mouth.”

“Guess I´m a bit further from perfect than I thought, getting there though. How was the movie anyways?”

“Oh, did it end already?” You asked, finally looking at the TV and realizing the credits must have been rolling for a while. “Wasn´t paying attention.”

“What were you even doing?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, a second away from calling you stupid.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Calling Mingyu,” You half-lied.

At that, he managed to furrow his eyebrows even more, the biggest judgmental face he had ever sported looking up at you, “Why? Are you suddenly into him again?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don´t know, just-”

“Oh my god,” His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth in shock. “It´s a booty call.”

“It´s that what people call it these days?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

“Oh my god, so it is.”

“I guess?”

“Y/N, it´s been like 2 years. I know you´re hot and he´s a man but I think that conversation would be kind of weird. Were you planning on texting him a wanna come smash?” He questioned you as he sat up. “Do you even have his number?”

“No, I - I don´t know. I- Let´s change the subject.”

“Let´s absolutely not.”

“You´re being annoying.”

“Aren´t I always?”

“Yes, defin-”

“If you´re horny, why don´t you text that last guy you were going out with? He was hot too.”

“Ew, don´t use the word horny.”

“Would you prefer I call you needy?”

Maybe you would, yeah, very much.

“No, ew. Just stop talking all-together.”

“So, why don´t you text him?”

“You know I can´t really enjoy it much when I´m not like, close to the person.”

“So you thought of your ex,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

“Has literally not even one of the guys you hooked up with gotten you off?”

“I mean, some of them did. But I don´t want to just get off, I-I- I don´t even know what I want, can we please chan-”

“You want to be treated like the little pillow princess you are, got it.”

Did he have to say it like that? Suddenly you felt the pulse between your legs raising its intensity. Oh god no, you were absolutely not getting turned on by Wooyoung´s crude choice of words.

Anyone but Wooyoung!

“Who says I´m a pillow princess? Am not!”

“Ah, please. You scream I´ll bring nothing to the table besides looking pretty.”

“Is that how I come off as?” You gasped at that, feeling deeply offended. “You´re full of shit.”

“Why are you even getting mad? There´s nothing wrong with that, I´m sure you´re really good at looking pretty under a guy.”

“Please stop picturing someone else fucking me?”

“Who says I´m picturing someone else?” He winked at you teasingly.

You literally, in your over 20 years of life on this earth, have never - not even once - thought you would actually choke over someone´s words. This was Wooyoung, you were used to his ways, c´mon!

“Yeah, let´s not do that.”

“Awn, pretty princess got flustered,” He cooed at you.

You knew he was just teasing you; you knew there was no real sexual intent behind his words because that was Wooyoung, he flirted and teased as naturally as he breathed - but they still got your thighs tensing and you hating yourself for it. Couldn´t you just take a joke for what it was?

“Although now that I´m thinking about it, I wouldn´t be surprised if you turned out to be a brat in bed. You´re already the biggest one normally.”

“Look who´s calling me a brat,” You rolled your eyes once again. It didn´t matter if he was right or wrong, Wooyoung had no right calling anyone that when he was the way he was.

At that, he presented you with the most attractive smile you think would ever exist in the world, a mixture between cunning, excitement and condescending, “You think I´m bratty?”

“Oh, I´m sure of it.”

“Maybe I´m just good at matching energies, you know?” He winked, teasing you further.

“Fuck off. I know San forced you on your knees more often than I´d like to imagine.”

“Because I allowed him to.”

You snorted, “Yeah. Sure thing, honey. Now let´s move along, please.”

Except that, your mind decided to in fact, consider his words. Wooyoung liked teasing and annoying people for his own entertainment, he whined at you every time he didn´t get things his way and he was always playfully flirting with everyone - and you meant literally everyone. Because of that, you had always just kind of assumed (but never spared it many thoughts, thank God) that your best friend was just someone who like to be dominated when in relationships, or sexual encounters for the matter.

But honestly, you could kind of see it differently after his comments. It was true he always had everyone wrapped around his fingers and somehow, he always managed to get things his way - Wasn´t that also some form of control? The lines were kind of blurred when it came to Jung Wooyoung, but that was kind of even more attractive to you.

“Oh my god, you´re thinking about it,” Wooyoung teased.

“You´re the one who started it!”

“You don´t have to stress your pretty little head over it,” He smiled, his finger finding it´s place under your chin to tip your face in his direction playfully. “I can show you.”

Oh, absolutely not.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a millisecond at his words, your guard crumbling surprisingly fast as you practically whimpered, “I know you´re joking but can we please not?”

“Why?”

Couldn´t he stop giving you that annoying freaking smile?

“Because I am kind of horny and I really don´t want to go there,” You practically growled.

Now he was the one who broke character, not expecting you to be actually affected by his jokes, before the teasing smile was back on his face in a heartbeat - but you saw it.

“Did I make you horny?” He teased.

“Of course not, I was already horny before. I´m just in a weird mood.”

It wasn´t necessarily a lie. If you weren´t already feeling some type of way since earlier, you would have never - and you really mean that - caught yourself thinking about Wooyoung´s stupid plump lips or if he could actually fuck you.

“So, you were thinking about getting dicked down while I was here innocently lying down on your lap? You´re dirty,” He snickered.

“It wasn´t weird until you made it weird,” You groaned in frustration. This is really not how you imagined your afternoon would go down.

“Want me to help you out?”

“Got any hot friends who are also not my friends?”

“I do,” He nodded with his head. “But I´m also right here.”

Your eyes almost flew out of your head. You always judged yourself as the only person immune to Wooyoung's weirdness, deeming that nothing the man did or say would ever surprise you since you basically were the same - but you now guessed the tests became harder as the years passed.

“I can´t really tell if you´re joking-“

“I am absolutely not.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“I know you can use your big girl words.”

“Because as much as it pains me to admit it, we´re best friends. I guess?”

“Now you´re the one who´s making it weird. You´re hot, I´m hot. You´re horny, now I´m horny. What´s wrong with helping each other out?”

“What´s wrong is that I never really saw you like that!” You whined.

“But you´re seeing now.”

“Yeah, and I don´t like it!”

“Tell me,” He raised an eyebrow at you, a devilish glint on his eyes matching his smile once again.

“What?”

“What you imagined me doing to you.”

“Oh my god. Nothing!”

“Oh c´mon, I won´t think you´re in love with me or anything. I know we´re friends and I´m a man, if there is one thing I can understand is simple plain old horniness.”

“How is this so easy for you?”

“Oh, I already imagined fucking you many times. In many different ways, too,” Wooyoung stated so casually, like he was talking about his shopping list for when he went to the supermarket later. “You know that one time at Seonghwa´s pool when you were wearing that little orange bikini? I must have made up at least 4 different scenarios, just that day.”

“I feel kind of violated?”

You also felt the way something throbbed in between your legs at his words but he didn´t need to know that.

“As I said: I´m a man, Y/N. I love you and would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or fuck up our friendship, but there´s nothing wrong with fantasizing. It´s not like I actively decide to do it either, it just happens, I don´t know.”

“Do you just casually think about fucking all your friends?”

“No, only the hot ones. And it´s not something I keep thinking about all the time, I´m not a creep. Just once every blue moon hormone takes over or something. Also, you´re a fool if you think any of your other friends who are into women have never, not even once, thought about fucking you.”

“Yeah, I´d rather be a fool,” You rolled your eyes. “Also, San hasn´t!”

“San would quit his dream job in a heartbeat if I called him over for a threesome right now.”

“Yunho then! He would never -”

Wooyoung laughed at that, “Honey, I have something to tell you-“

“Please don´t.”

“Anyways, you´re not lacking options to help you out. All I´m saying is that I´m here and I´d be more than glad to be the one,” He had the audacity of winking at you. “Since you were already thinking about it.”

“I´m begging you to please drop it.”

“Only if you tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Oh my god! You know what? Let´s play your stupid fucking game, Jung Wooyoung. I´ll tell you if you tell me first.”

“So, you do know how to have fun,” Wooyoung gave you a big smile, his eyes disappearing in happiness as if you had just told him you got him a new car. “What do you want to know?”

“About the day at Seonghwa´s pool.”

“Fun. I will use your own words then: I was in a weird mood that day and then you just took your clothes off and looked so good in that bikini. You were sunbathing and at some point in the afternoon you went inside Hwa´s house to get something from the kitchen and my brain just kept flashing images in my head: what if I followed you into the empty house, pushed you against the nearest wall and fucked you, watching as you tried to keep quiet so the others wouldn´t hear from right outside? Your cheek red from rubbing against the wall, your -”

“That´s scenario number one.”

“You want all of them? Kinky.”

“I can just go-“

“Calm down, princess. See? I knew you were a brat.”

“Wooyo-“

“Later when I was sitting down on the sunbathing chair with you while you were helping me out with the sunscreen, I noticed how my hand was so close I could pull the bottom of your bikini to the side and just slip my fingers in, right there in the open, no one would even notice. I wondered if you were already going to be wet and how you would sound trying to keep your noises inside with my knuckles deep into you. I couldn´t imagine a better sight than you all pretty clenching around my fingers or how you would look trying to casually spread your legs for me without anyone suspecting. I even went as far as imagining us getting caught, can you picture Mingi noticing what a little slut you are and trying to watch without getting caught himself? Poor boy wouldn´t know what to do with himself, would just loose his mind at how hot you´d look. I wondered if you´d like that he was watching –“

“That´s scenario number two,” You interrupted before the skin where you dug your nails into could start bleeding from your efforts to ground yourself and not squirm like an animal in heat at Wooyoung´s words.

He was good, you had to give him that.

Wooyoung laughed at you and you wondered if he had any clue about what he was doing to you. Then you mentally slapped yourself because of course he did, he had eyes.

“When everyone went inside to make some drinks and start on dinner, you sat there on the edge of the pool and started kicking water at me. Remember that? I happened to notice the edge was just the perfect height for me to eat you out from the pool, and you even had your back to the door. We were all alone out there and even if someone came out, I would be hidden from their view in between your legs. I could picture my hands holding your thighs open and your back arching-”

“Yeah, ok. That´s enough. I´m going to go, humm, shower or something and you can just like leave-”

“Can I join?” He joked as you stood up.

“No.”

“Can I at least stay outside listening?”

“What? I´m not going to mastu- Wooyoung, I´m just taking a cold shower.”

“OK, go cool yourself off, princess. I´ll wait for you here,” He informed, unlocking his phone once again and showing you his screen where his game was loading.

“Yeah, ok. Suit yourself.”

“You really should let me listen as payback for getting me horny,” He screamed once you were already down the hallway.

“You got yourself horny,” You screamed back before shutting the bathroom door behind yourself.

You silently screamed against your hands as you let your body slide down the door.

What the hell just happened? How many lines did you just cross?

Why was Wooyoung suddenly so hot?

And so, a cold shower you took and thankfully, after you left the bathroom, no one talked about the subject for the rest of the night and just pretended that nothing had happened.

Except that now you were miserable and your mind echoed Wooyoung´s words every time you looked or thought about him. It was not optimal to be crossing your legs in the middle of class at university because you accidentally caught yourself staring at your friend´s veiny arms for half of the lecture.

★

“You´re still horny,” Wooyoung stated a few days later when you were literally getting ice cream after class.

“And I´m actually mortified that you noticed.”

“You´re being stubborn.”

“We´re not fucking, Wooyoung.”

“Dude, at this point I am genuinely feeling bad for you. We can ask Mingi or whoever, just please get some dick.”

“You´re being kind of sexist-”

“Y/N, you look constipated. I am worried for your sanity.”

“Just shut up before I stop talking to you.”

“I can use a blindfold or something if you´re worried about me seeing you naked-”

“You´d like that, wouldn´t you? Submissive bitch.”

“Don´t degrade me unless you mean it,” He winked at you.

“You are actually insufferable.”

“I´m just trying to help.”

“You can´t because you don´t understand that this isn´t just about getting some dick!”

“So what is this about? You tense every time my hands get near you -”

“Wooyoung, this is an ice cream parlor. There are kids around, just shut the fuck up.”

“So let´s go to my place.”

“I´m not getting inside any closed spaces with you unless there are more people around.”

“Kinky.”

“Oh my god, you know what I mean.”

“I know, just let me tease you. Ok, but seriously now, I think that in order for me to do my duties as a best friend, I need to understand what´s going on.”

“Since when do you care about your best friend duties? You once left me behind alone at a party to get fucked by Yeonjun or whatever you two-”

“Allegedly.”

“No, Wooyoung. Not allegedly, it was literally me that you dragged to a corner to inform you´d be going upstairs with Yeonjun-”

“No one knows what happened in that room.”

“Yeah, thank god.”

“Ok, whatever. Let me help you, tell me what´s going on inside that little messed up brain of yours.”

“Nop. I really would rather lock myself inside the industrial freezer in the back.”

“Yeah? Then I´m texting Mingi to go to your place and give you the fuck of your life tonight-”

“Wooyoung!”

“Y/N!”

“Just drop it.”

“No! Do you actually miss Mingyu? Or dating? Do you want a boyfriend? Is that it?”

“No,” You groaned, hitting your forehead against the table.

“So?”

“Just- I need alcohol if we´re going to talk about this.”

“Ok, let´s go to-”

“Wooyoung, it´s 2 in the afternoon.”

And so, he let it go for the moment, but the next time he saw a single drop of alcohol near you, he sat down next to you and crossed his hands like he meant business, a pointed look on his face.

★

“So?”

“This is literally my first shot.”

“Then take it.”

“Fine,” You begrudgingly complied, and you hadn´t even placed your glass back down before Wooyoung was already pouring you more. Figuring you weren´t going to escape this conversation, you downed your second shot and sighed in defeat.

“Now tell me why you aren´t getting your back blown out at this very moment.”

“It´s really weird talking about sex with you.”

“We talk about sex all the time.”

“Yeah, about other people, not about me, or about you suddenly being willing to fuck me- “

“Not suddenly.”

“Yeah, whatever. Pour me some more.”

“That´s what I like to hear,” He smirked at you, eyes glinting as he filled your glass up.

“Y/N looks miserable,” Mingi suddenly stated, dropping his body next to you on the couch coming from seemingly nowhere.

“Doesn´t she?” Wooyoung agreed, giving you a pointed look as you punched Mingi for the out-of-pocket comment.

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the tall man next to you, excited for a change of topic.

“The kitchen,” He absentmindedly answered you, hand busy filling up the glasses in front of you before handing you one. “Take a shot with me.”

And so you did, hissing at the burning sensation and taking deep breaths to not gag at the taste of tequila.

“OK, why does it look like your house burned down?” The man turned his attention back to you after smashing the empty glass on the little center table in front of you.

Damn it, Mingi.

You didn´t even have the time to begin forming any kind of excuses before Wooyoung answered for you in a heartbeat, “Little Y/N over here is horny.”

“Jung Wooyoung!” You gasped at his choice of words, thorn between hiding behind your hands, punching the man and apologizing to Mingi.

Mingi, in turn, was frozen in shock mid pouring himself another shot. And you meant that the man wasn´t even blinking, mouth open and hands stuck in the air holding the glass bottle which you took from him afraid he would break it.

“See what you´ve done?” You sighed to Wooyoung, elbowing his ribs as you tried waving your hand in front of Mingi´s face for a reaction.

“Wait, what?” Said man came back to life, his voice way higher than what you´re used to.

“You heard it, man. She hasn´t been fucked right in ages-”

“Wooyoung, you know what you said about wanting to keep up with your best friend´s duties?” You asked between gritted teeth, about ready to jump the man and rip all of his hair out. “This is really not it.”

“But you´re hot!” Mingi seemed confused.

“I told her that!” Wooyoung ignored you. “I even told her you´d volunteer to help her out-”

“I so would-”

“Shut the fuck up, you two! Wooyoung, I´m about a second away from blocking you on my phone and never seeing you again,” You were also as close to ripping your own hair out. “Yes I´m horny, the whole world doesn´t need to hear about it.”

Mingi noticed the crazy look behind your eyes and rubbed your back in comfort, he too knew what Wooyoung could do to people when he decided to be annoying.

“It´s ok, love. We´ve all been there,” Mingi assured you and his words did soothe you a bit.

“It´s just – You guys don´t get it. It´s not about just sex. I know I could literally fuck anyone at this party if I wanted to, I´m not dense. I guess I just miss dating but I don´t really want to date anyone at the moment?”

“So like a friends with benefits thing?” Wooyoung pressed.

“No, that´s just fucking with a fancy title. I mean like, I miss being touched and hugged and pampered and – I don´t know.”

“Every time I try to hug you, you freeze and glare at me!” Mingi pouted.

“I´m just not a touchy person!”

“I know! That´s why I´m not understanding what you want.”

“Just forget it-”

“I get it,” Wooyoung interrupted.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“You want a boyfriend without the obligations and feelings involved with a relationship. I was right, you´re needy.”

“Oh,” Apparently it made sense to Mingi too.

“Ok, and with that, I excuse myself,” You say, already standing up to go find someone else to hang out with because you were definitely not ready for the rest of that conversation.

★

“What are you doing here?” You asked in annoyance after opening the door to your place to a very content looking Wooyoung.

"I came to be your boyfriend-not-boyfriend,” He smiled proudly.

"We're not fucking, Wooyoung,” You managed to sigh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Which is exactly what I told you the other 50 times you suggested it."

"Who said anything about fucking? I'm just here to force the touch-deprivation out of you. Now move, I brought snacks," He said as if he hadn't already pushed you out of the way about midway through his sentence.

You sighed in defeat, accepting your peaceful quiet night was ruined - You hadn't even locked the door yet and Wooyoung was already sprawled on your couch organizing the snacks on your coffee table, making way more noise than necessary.

"At least you brought my favorite," You noticed, arms crossed as you stood up next to the couch.

"These are all your favorites," His eyes were even shining with the amount of pride he had for himself.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"You called Seonghwa, didn't you?"

"Only about the chips."

"Knew it."

"It's not my fault you literally change your opinions every day."

"Welcome to girlhood."

"Now sit down and I'll put something on Netflix."

"Wooyoung, why-"

"Y/N, listen," It was his turn to sigh. "You helped me through a lot when everything happened with my grandpa and you were always there for me when shit went down, just let me help you this once however I can."

"Ok, got it. Enough with the sentimental talk," You quickly obeyed. You didn't like serious Wooyoung.

"Now, are we feeling Criminal Minds?" He asked once you were sitting next to him, remote in hand.

"Sounds great."

“Perfect,” Wooyoung agreed as he put on the show, quickly standing up to turn off the lights before sitting back down and opening his arms. “Come here.”

“Uh, I would rather not.”

“I don´t care, we´re doing this.”

“I don´t think forcing me to cuddle you will help much-”

“Do you want me to really force you? Because I can,” He raised his eyebrow at you, arms still hanging in the air.

“I´m pretty sure I´m stronger than you-”

“Oh my god, just shut up,” He groaned and rolled his eyes at the same time, bending his body forward so he could grab onto your waist and pull you against his chest.

Ok, yeah. He was definitely stronger than you.

“Can you not make it so difficult?” He asked once he noticed how stiff you were in between his legs. “Stretch your legs, relax.”

You decided against reminding him that he was in fact forcing you to do this and obeyed, he was just trying to help after all and maybe he did have a point: Some human touch might help calm your mind down. Also, the quicker you played along, the sooner it would be over. So, stretching your legs across the couch you did, letting your body relax against Wooyoung´s, who contently wrapped his arms around you as you both turned your attention towards the Tv.

Well, that lasted for about 10 minutes before you started feeling the heat of your friend´s skin radiating and everything started making sense: Being held by someone you loved really was comforting. Huh, who would have guessed?

You generally hated being touched by people but right now you kind of felt like a cat, wanting to rub your head on Wooyoung´s shirt and snuggle into his warmth.

“Can I play with your hair or will you bite my hand of?”

“You can try,” You answered, not wanting to admit he was right all along and that you would very much like more of whatever this was.

You could practically feel the roll of his eyes at your threatening tone as he pulled your head like you were just one big barbie doll, so your right cheek would be rested against his chest, turning your body to the side so now your right shoulder kind of met his chest instead of your back.

“Ouch, you could be gentler,” You complained, rubbing your forehead skin where his palm was planted seconds before.

“When you deserve it,” He grunted, eyes fixed on the Tv.

“That was not very let me help you of you.”

It was easy to tell he bit back his comeback, simply taking a deep calming breath and burying his fingers in the hair behind your neck, gently rubbing the area – Maybe you would purr. Judging you now had the upper hand, you decided to in return wrap your own arms around his wait so you could get comfortable and Wooyoung gave you a cocky victory smile.

Damn it.

The two of you went through the entire episode like that and you were so relaxed that when Wooyoung stood up to open the snacks and grab some wine, you didn´t even complain about how that was a bad idea, sharing some glasses while you watched the second and third episodes and he tossed you around into every cuddling position you never even knew existed, discussing who you though were the killers and all the little gossips of the week.

“You could create like a cuddling Kama Sutra,” You joked, kind of dizzy because of the drink – or because you had an incredibly attractive man holding you for the past 2 hours or so.

“Will you quit complaining about my touchy personality now?” He smiled.

“Nah, this was a one-time thing.”

“Are you at least feeling a bit better?” Wooyoung asked, adjusting himself on the couch to look at you since you were now sitting side to side after the last episode ended.

“Yes, actually.”

It was true, you were no longer feeling like you could rip your entire skin off if you went through another second of someone not touching you.

“I have one last move prepared,” He informed excitedly.

“We´re not fucki-”

“Oh my god, will you quit it with the fucking thing? If you keep bringing It up I might start thinking you´re interested-”

“What was the idea?” You quickly asked, trying to cut the flirting off before it could lead your brain somewhere you spent the entire night not wanting to go.

“Let me give you a massage.”

“Wow, you´re really invested in this helping me thing.”

“Contrary to your big mouth, I am a good friend. Sit down right here,” Wooyoung ordered, opening his legs and pointing to the space on the floor in between his feet. “Tonight I´ll take the neediness out of you the best I can since you refuse to go out and get some dick.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored his remark, sitting down where he showed you and waiting silently as he gently gathered your hair and moved it out of the way. You cursed at how your skin erupted in goosebumps as his fingertips brushed against the side of your neck, your breath suddenly caught in your chest.

You followed the realization that this was probably a horrible idea with another glass of wine, thankful he couldn't feel your heart beating fast.

Wooyoung worked his thumbs in circles, digging them between your scapulae and pressing them up until they reached your shoulders, which he squeezed in the perfect strength to get shivers running up your spine every minute as he repeated the motion over and over.

“How are you so good at this?” You whined, hating how your body was reaction to the touches.

“There´s really nothing I´m not good at.”

“Humbleness,” You offered.

“That was a cliché answer, you can do better than that.”

“I don´t care, just please never stop.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Do you really need to make everything sexual?”

“I´ve always been that way, it´s not my fault that now that you´re horny it´s bothering you.”

You hated when he put it like that, because yes.

And maybe the way he sometimes would squeeze your neck during the massage or just the fact that he was touching you, were getting you feeling some type of way you would rather he did not notice.

“If you were a girl, you´d understand,” You groaned. “Ovulation sucks.”

“You actually just gave yourself the perfect solution, why don´t you fuck a girl?”

´Cause what I really want is fucking you.

Oh, wow.

Where did that come from?

“Speaking of which, do you even know how to?” You ask, admittedly kind of shy of asking such question.

“Know how to what?”

“Like, have- you like- With women?” You try, motioning widely towards the couch with your hands as if it would help you get your point across so you wouldn´t have to say the words.

Wooyoung seemed to get it though, hands suddenly stopping on your back so you would look at him, “Y/N, you do know I have fucked women, right?”

“How would I? You never told me!” You whine.

“I thought it would be disrespectful?”

“But when you told me how much you loved choking on San´s dick it wasn´t?”

“Well, no-”

“Or when you literally shared about how you thought about your fingers inside of me?”

“You asked for it!”

“I don´t believe you,” You narrowed your eyes towards him. “There´s no way I wouldn´t have known.”

“Do you want like a list or something?”

“What? No! That would be disrespectful.”

“See?”

“Ok, no, wait. Just tell me this: Lauren?”

“Yes.”

“Wooyoung, nooooo!” You whined.

“What? She´s hot!” He was exasperated.

“Oh my god, everything makes so much sense now.”

“Wait, did you really think I was gay? We´ve know each other for years! I talk about women all the time!”

“Yeah, but I thought you talked about women like Kevin talks about Beyoncé! Like in a slayy pussy queennn way, not in a I´d want to fuck her way.”

“Would you like me to go around harassing women?”

“No, listen: I didn´t think you were gay, I just kind of never thought about it?”

"You though I was just joking around with you the other day and you still got all hot and bothered?" Would he quit teasing you? "Kinky."

“I thought you were playing and I didn't get any way!"

“Whatever you say, princess - Wait, why did you think Ali was always hanging around my neck all these months?”

“I just thought she was kind of crazy – Wait, did you fuck her that good? She wouldn´t leave us alone for a second, it was driving me insane."

“I just told you there´s nothing I´m not good at,” He winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

You wanted to die.

“Wooyoung,” You warned.

“Awn, am I getting to you?” His tone was so sarcastic and condescending that a fire burned inside of you that you were afraid was never going out.

“It´s the wine,” You assured, more yourself than him.

“It´s always something.”

“See? That´s why I told you I didn´t want to be alone with you.”

“Afraid you´ll jump me?” He mocked. “I´m not scared.”

"Just shut up. If whatever you're saying is true, I just want you to know you have the worst taste in women ever."

"Well, considering I would love to taste you more than I would anyone else, I agree," He played with your words.

“Go wash the glasses,” You ordered, the skin under your cheeks burning.

“Yes, ma’am,” He answered with a laugh, immediately standing up and following along.

When you were alone in the living room, your face fell between your hands in despair.

You fucking hated Jung Wooyoung and his fucking giant noise.

★

Stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung.

Fucking hell.

Cursed be the day that man was born and cursed be the hospital and the doctors and the nurses and everyone in the world for all you cared.

Your entire body was filled with rage as you opened the stupid coffee maker to pour the water into the compartment – which you had of course forgotten to fill 10 minutes earlier and almost burnt the whole office down. How would you explain to your boss that you started a fire because your brain was simply too busy flashing images of you sitting on your stupid annoying best friend´s face for the past 4 hours?

It has been 2 days since the day at your place, 2 nights since you've gotten a decent night of sleep. "Why is that?" One would ask. Well, the answer would be that your useless brain decided to sabotage you, having you dream about your best friend over and over again – Which wouldn't be so bad if 90% of the dreams didn't consist of you ridding said best friend's face, waking up sweating and wanting to scream.

At this point you just wanted to break Wooyoung's nose with a punch, so you'd never have to think about it again. After almost ripping your hair out in front of your computer, you decided on texting Hoshi for Mingyu's number - That's how desperate you were to get stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung out of your head. At least your friend assured that your ex was indeed single now and still didn't hate you, which was enough for you.

Not really knowing how to tell your ex-boyfriend, after so much time has passed, that you just wanted him to throw you around, things weren't going as fast as planned and you couldn't keep avoiding Wooyoung forever – One, because he has no sense of boundaries and would just show up at your place if you ignored him and two, you really didn't want to have the conversation that would go down when he found out why you weren't around.

It'd been over a week since you last saw Wooyoung in person, you were still in the talking stages with Mingyu, dreaming about your friend every fucking night and staring at his picture on the chatting app for hours while wanting to die. Now, you kind of genuinely didn't care anymore, Mingi and Wooyoung were right, maybe this was just about getting some dick – and you would find out if one could die of horniness if you didn't get some soon.

It was Saturday night, Hongjoong decided to throw a small party at his place to celebrate his birthday and you figured alcohol was a good solution since stabbing a knife into your brain wasn't an option. You even invited Mingyu, hoping in person and after a few drinks you'd figure how to ask him to bend you over – The man said he would be pretty late because of previous scheduled commitments but that he would go. Your ex was an incredibly attractive man who knew his way around a lady, maybe you would see all your problems flying away after tonight.

Except that after your first cup and some chatting with Mingi and Seonghwa on Hongjoong's couch, Wooyoung decided to arrive.

You took one (1) - ONE, UNO - look at the man and grabbed your phone, shooting Mingyu a text: don´t come, party´s canceled.

“Bro, your hair looks sick!” Mingi shouted before your brain could even begin to process what you were seeing.

You were the one actually about to be sick.

“Decided to try something new,” Wooyoung smirked, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

You simply stared at him dumbfounded, glad he was too busy stealing the drink from your hands to notice your mouth wide open.

Jung Wooyoung just showed up to the party with the bottom part and the front strands of his hair dyed blonde and you weren´t sure what kind of look that even was but you felt like it genuinely changed your whole life. You were pretty sure you got goosebumps when you first looked at him, lucky you were sitting down with the way your legs got weak.

“What do you think about it?” He asked you after he was content with finishing what was left in your cup.

“I hate it.”

Well, you weren´t lying. Your nails were literally digging into the palm of your hands to try and get your head back in place - The new look made his skin look tanner, the mole under his eye darker, the shape of his nose -

The way he pushed his hair back, blonde strands surrounding his face -

No, nop.

No.

“Since I know you´re joking, I´m gonna go say hi to Hongjoong and grab us more drinks so we can get this party started.”

You let him go with absolutely no fight, eyes wide and glued to his form until he was out of your sight as Seonghwa led him to where the birthday boy was supposed to be.

“Are you ok?” Mingi asked, noticing the crazy look on your face.

“I need Wooyoung to fuck me.”

Your brain definitely was short-circuiting.

“Oh. Wow. Ok.”

“I´m being serious. And I´m not happy about it.”

“Hasn´t he been offering for like weeks now?”

“Yeah.”

“So just go and tell him.”

“That´s not how it works.”

“Oh my god, why do you have to be so complicated?”

“I need him to offer again so I can say no, then when he insists, I will give in and pretend I´m kind of thorn about it.”

“And why is that?”

“So he doesn´t know he won! And I don´t like being vulnerable or whatever.”

“I know we said you need some dick, but maybe you just need some therapy.”

“Yeah, that too, but what I really need right now is your help.”

“Sure,” Mingi shrugged. That´s what you liked about him, things were simple with him.

“I need him to think I´m horny.”

“You are horny.”

“Yeah, but I need him to see it so he will joke about helping me out again.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Well, I could stand here with a bitch face all night, but it´s Joong´s birthday so I don´t really want to be like that. I don´t really have any other ideas-”

“Touch me.”

“What?”

“Like, be touchy with me.”

“Oh, that could work.”

“That will definitely work.”

“You´re good,” You complimented.

“You should come to me for help more often.”

“Don´t push it.”

“Fine.”

“You´re invested, huh?”

“Move closer,” He ordered and you obeyed, sitting sideways on the couch so you were turned towards him, left knee touching his thigh. “Lean forward and put your hand on my thigh.”

Despite your body´s discontent, you did as told.

“And don´t flinch when I touch you,” He warned.

“I feel like a spy,” You joked.

“All this because you can´t tell a guy you want to fuck,” He rolled his eyes.

“C´mon, pretend you´re not enjoying this, I dare you.”

“Touché.”

When your friends came back with more people tagging along, the first thing you noticed was the way Wooyoung´s gaze traveled immediately to your hand on Mingi´s thighs.

Ok, yeah, this could definitely work.

“Here, princess,” He handed you your drink, which you grabbed with your free hand.

“Thanks Wooyo,” You smiled at the man before turning your attention back to Mingi, not missing the way your friend squeezed his eyes at you.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t say anything about it, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch as a circle naturally formed in the living room so everyone could play something, and the first choice was the 007 game. You went along with the plan, hitting Mingi´s thigh instead of your own, touching his arm when you had to laugh, not going stiff when his hand met the skin almost at the hem of your skirt.

You know what? Mingi was actually really hot too, if this night didn´t end how you expected it to, you were so horny you were just about considering asking him to fuck you.

Whenever you looked in Wooyoung´s direction, you could practically see the engines turning in his head. It was just a matter of time now and you were already feeling shaky with excitement, which you weren´t exactly thrilled about – But then you looked at him again with that stupid hair and that stupid nose and that stupid half-unbuttoned shirt and decided that to hell with your morals and ethics.

Mingi apparently decided his role in the ploy wasn´t enough for him, since after an hour or so passed by and people started standing up to go after more drinks or socialize with other people, he waited for Wooyoung to approach before asking loud and clear, “So, any luck with the getting some dick thing?”

You were not exactly a good actress but you did know how to flirt, so not really knowing how else to react to the sudden improvisation, you smiled at him, “Why? Know someone interested?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I´m Song Mingi,” He half-joked, hand still heavy on your thigh. “Oh, Wooyoung. You´re here, didn´t see you there.”

He was good, you had to give him that.

“I can see why,” Wooyoung answered, eyes pointing at the contact between you two.

“Jealous?” Mingi asked his friend, his tone was humorous, but you could see the challenge in his eyes. Even though he was just playing, he couldn´t help being an egotistical Leo.

“I wouldn´t say jealous is the right word.”

“Did you know Y/N invited Mingyu over?” Mingi laughed.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I already uninvited him, asshole.”

“Is that why you´re all touchy today?” Mingi asked. Ok, you would have to buy him some ice cream after the phenomenal performance he was delivering. “Thought you would convince her to fuck someone, Woo.”

“Believe me, I tried,” He shrugged.

“Can we quit talking about me like I´m not here? Also, I´m not an animal in heat, stop being weird.”

Well, weren´t you?

Really?

“You sure seem like it,” Wooyoung completed.

“You look hornier than me, Wooyoung.”

“I´m not denying it,” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone with Yunho,” Mingi cursed, suddenly petting his pockets. He was so convincing you almost forgot he was helping you out. “Shit, shit, shit. I´ll be back later.”

With that he stood up and quickly marched out of the living room, Wooyoung lazily taking his place next to you on the couch.

“Were you really about to let Mingi fuck you?”

“Maybe?” You answer, and well, that wasn´t a lie either.

“Ouch, that kind of hurts my ego.”

“Mingi and I are just friends, now you and I are best friends. There´s a huge difference there.”

“So, you´re saying you´d fuck me if we weren´t best friends?” He joked. “Wow, thank you. I´m shy now. No need for all these compliments.”

You rolled your eyes, not sure what to say that would lead you towards what you wanted, choosing to just be normal and hope the night would eventually get you there.

“Why did you cancel on Mingyu?”

“Didn´t think he would throw me around today.”

“Someone´s getting bold.”

“Shut up.”

“I actually like frustrated Y/N, it´s hot.”

“Then stop bothering me to fuck someone and let me be frustrated in peace.”

“Well, that seems nice but I´m sure you´d look much hotter getting the frustration out.”

“Are we back to the “you imagining someone fucking me” thing?”

“I could correct you once again saying that I´m not imagining someone else, but since you´ve made it pretty clear that you´re not interested, I´m not going to.”

That was it, that was your moment.

“And what if I tell you maybe I am?”

He stopped to give you a knowing cocky smirk that made you immediately regret raising the white flag, “I know.”

“What? Ho- No -”

“Y/N, you wouldn´t stop staring at me like you wanted me to destroy you in front of everyone while Mingi literally had his hand on you.”

“That´s not -”

“Do I have to pretend I think you were squirming because of him and not me? I can play dumb if you´d like. I can even go call him back if you tell me you weren´t wishing it was my hand almost getting under your skirt instead of his. So, are you going to give in now or are we going to keep playing this game?”

“Wooyoung-”

“We´re best friends, I know. But I don´t see how you avoiding me because you get wet every time I´m around is doing our friendship any favors either.”

Ok, he did make a pretty good case even though you were already convinced like an hour ago.

“You´re right.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded – also not liking how the tables have turned one bit. Wooyoung in turn laughed and sent you another playful wink, “Trust me, you won´t want anyone around.”

“It took a lot from me to come to terms with this, so we´re either doing it tonight or we´re not doing it.”

“Oh, princess,” He gave you a condescending look that got you wanting to rip his hair out. “I find that hard to believe, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Wooyoung-”

“Y/n,” His voice was calm, hand finding its place on your thigh where Mingi´s was earlier, except this time the touch burned and got you fighting for your life not to squirm. “I said I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s, not that I´m not fucking you.”

“Then let´s go.”

“Now, that would be rude, wouldn´t it?”

“Why are being like this?” You whined, about a second away from actually hitting the cockiness out of him.

“You have this needy look in your eyes, like you´re ready to drop down and beg at any moment,” He smiled, his free hand gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he wasn´t talking about you on your knees. “It´s cute.”

“You know what will be cute? When I ask Mingi to fuck me instead.”

“If you can go to Hongjoong, in front of everyone, and tell him that we need to leave his birthday party right now because you can´t wait for me to fuck you, I´m good to go.”

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“Only when I know you´ll like it.”

“You know you were the one asking to fuck me for weeks, right?”

“I know.”

“You just know everything, don´t you?”

“See? You´re hot when you´re frustrated.”

“You think I´m sexually frustrated but now I´m actually just mad at you.” He simply smiled at you in return, and you rolled your eyes once you realized where you had dug your grave, “I forgot you have a degradation kink or whatever. Can´t even be angry at you in peace anymore.”

“If you´re really mad at me, we should fix that. I wouldn´t want my best friend to be angry at me.”

“I don´t think it´s possible to fix it considering being annoying it´s like your whole personality. Point proven.”

“Come say that closer,” He winked playfully, and you seriously would cringe at the number of times that man has winked at you if he wasn´t Wooyoung.

Ok, coming completely clean: You were also kind of annoyed at the way you were definitely getting wet at the banter between the two of you, like teasing each other wasn´t what your whole friendship has been about for years.

It also helped that Wooyoung´s hand was still on your thigh, veins sticking out and fingers filled with rings that you just couldn´t stop picturing against the skin on your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It took a second to decide if you would actually listen to that one braincell fighting for its life inside your head or not, but in the end, you decided against it, quickly standing up so you could sit on Wooyoung´s lap and take him by surprise as you straddled his thighs, one of your knees on each side of legs.

Yeah, there was definitely something pulsing in between your legs. Fucking hell.

You moved too quicky for Wooyoung to process what was going on, so it really was amusing the way he violently jerked once you moved your head closer, lips almost brushing his ears as you whispered, “What do you want me to say?”

For a second you had almost forgotten it was Jung Wooyoung under you, but he was fast to remind you as one of his hands found its place on the side of your thigh and the other grabbed onto your waist, where his thumb brushed gentle circles against your exposed skin. He took advantage of the fact you were already bent down to say against your ear this time, “You never told me.”

“What?” You asked, creating some distance between you so you could look at the smirk on his face and because you didn´t quite like the way you got weak when you felt his breath against your skin so closely.

“The other day, we made a deal. You said you would tell me what you imagined me doing to you if I told you first, but you ran away after I completed my part. You owe me.”

Under regular circumstances you would have stood up and left right then and there, but the way his palms met the front part of your thighs and started rubbing them up and down, a bit higher each time, got you wanting to play his game to see where it would end.

“You´re right. That day was the first time I ever thought about you sexually, and you know what triggered it?”

“What?” He smiled at the way goosebumps erupted all over your skin under his touches.

“Your nose.”

“So you like my nose?”

“And your lips, but mostly your nose.”

"And what about my lips and nose?"

"Was just thinking about how good they'd feel under me," You look into his eyes, centimeters away from yours, thankful that Hongjoong had deemed the lights at some point of the night and now Wooyoung's face was illuminated only by a pink hue, coming from a fake sunset light your friend had bought on AliExpress.

"That's good, ‘cause I've never wanted someone to sit on my face so bad before."

“Careful,” You warned, inching your face closer to his, toying with the buttons on his shirt as your lips were almost brushing. “We still need to go back to being friends after we fuck and get this off our systems.”

"I’m sure we can manage," He smiled, inching closer himself so now your lips were indeed touching as he continued speaking. "I'm a good friend after all."

"Kiss me then, I dare you," You breathed out, shooting your last shot.

He laughed at that, "You know I never back down from a challenge."

But well, it worked.

Wooyoung made his words true, grabbing onto your waist with a firmness that you didn't know he had to pull you closer. With your chests now glued, his lips finally pressed against yours and you hated yourself for not being disappointed. You so wanted the man to be all bark and no bite, but the moment his tongue met yours you understood why that girl wouldn't leave him alone. You had indeed kissed many people before, but it had never felt like this - and also, you were right, his plush lips were definitely something to obsess over.

What didn't surprise you at all, was that like in everything else, Wooyoung was a tease. In some moments when you would deepen the kiss, he would pull back a bit and bite on your bottom lip just to laugh when you groaned in annoyance. When he felt you were getting frustrated at his little games, he would grab onto your hips and grind them against his – which well, definitely got your mind to stop thinking about how insufferable he was. Good thing you knew how to play too, hands finding the roots of his hair to pull harshly on it, almost passing out at the whine he let out.

"I love that you're wearing a skirt," He groaned out.

"Why is that?" You were so breathless you almost got embarrassed.

"I can feel how wet you are."

Fuck.

"You must be imagining things."

"Oh, am I?" The cunning smile he gave you along with those words should have prepared you.

It really shouldn't have surprised you when one of his hands left your ass and snaked its way in between your bodies. You leaned back a little to try and understand what was happening, giving Wooyoung all the access he needed to get his hand under your skirt and press the pad of his middle finger right on your clit over your panties.

"Told ya," He smirked in content at the way you gasped involuntarily.

"Wooyoung-"

"What? Weren't you the one who couldn't wait?" He teased, rubbing slow circles with his finger. "If you're already soaked like this, I can't even imagine what it would be like if I just pushed your panties to the side-"

"No-" You whined, thorn between just letting him do whatever he wanted or stopping him - since you were very much in the middle of your friend's living room and there were people around.

"Getting shy now?"

“Wooyoung.”

“That´s my name,” You could see in his eyes how much fun he was having teasing you.

“You want me to stop teasing or stop touching you?” He mocked with a smile on his face, finger still working on you as you fought with all your life to not squirm on his lap.

“You know what? If you want everyone to see, I can put on a show,” You sighed, accepting defeat.

You expected Wooyoung to smirk once again but was instead surprised when he stopped and retreated his hand, adjusting your skirt back in place. Your heart dropped at the sight, searching for answers in his eyes, but they were busy looking somewhere else: Mingi had gotten back. You could see the way the tall man was frozen at the entrance, eyes wide and hand once again stuck in the air – this time holding his wallet proudly.

You sent a glare at the intruder (as if there were not at least 10 other people in the room). The moment Mingi´s eyes caught yours, he jumped as if he had just woken up from a nap and he tried mouthing something like “sorry” and “oh shit” so you just rolled your eyes and motioned with your hand for him to move along, preferably far away. He seemed to get the message, almost tripping with how fast he spun on his heels and left.

“What? Weren´t you the one who wanted everyone to know?” You asked Wooyoung, tone pointy as you climbed off his lap. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you. THIS WAS JUNG WOOYOUNG.

YOUR BEST FRIEND JUNG WOOYOUNG.

THE GUY WHO MADE YOU DRESS LIKE A CHEERLEADER TO GO TO HIS COLLEGE SOCCER GAMES AND CHEER FOR HIM, THE GUY WHO BURPED AND LAUGHED AT HIS OWN DISGUSTINESS, THE GUY WHO DID A CRISTIANO RONALDO IMPRESSION EVERYTIME HE WON SOMETHING, THE GUY YOU HAD TO ONCE RESCUE FROM A PIG FARM AFTER DRINKING WAY TOO MUCH!

“Yeah, but I guess my protective best friend side spoke louder,” He sighed too, fixing his pants. “Don´t be mad.”

“I´m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I´m mad. Ok? Cause now the magic is over or whatever and I realized you´re my best friend and we can´t fuck.”

He turned around on the couch to be able to look into your eyes, his searching. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he simply closed his eyes, sighed once again and stood up, offering his hand, “C´mon. Let me take you home.”

“So, Mingyu huh?” Wooyoung asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear.

“Don´t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ask about another man and pretend everything´s normal.”

“Well, I guessed that now that we can´t fuck we can go back to being normal best friends.”

You locked your jaw and crossed your arms. You were angry and you didn´t even know what for – But you expected Wooyoung to fix it, nonetheless.

“Use your words.”

“No.”

“Ok, then. Silent ride it is.”

You huffed; aware you were acting like a spoiled child, but you were just angry at the mess inside your head and that your friend was not able to read your mind and untangle everything so it made sense. Maybe you really were just spoiled and angry you didn´t get what you wanted when you wanted.

“Oh. I get it now.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked, eyes moving from the road for a second to look at you.

“When you call me a brat. I get it now.”

“I was searching my brain for plausible reasons for you to be all sulky, for you to admit you were mad just because I didn´t fuck you at the party?”

“Yeah? Not just that, but you know I don´t like when things don´t go my way, I just wanted everything to happen fast so I wouldn´t have time to think about it but then when I thought about it, I felt bad because I still wanted it to happen but I know it shouldn´t.”

“Y/N, it´s sex.”

“Don´t make me sound stupid.”

“I´m not, you´re just really overthinking this.”

“Yeah, that´s the whole point. And it´s all your fault, so you see why I´m mad now?”

“Yes. I´m the worst.”

“You are.”

“Not when I fuck you, thought.”

“The moment has passed, Wooyoung. The train has left the station. Deal with it.”

“If you say so. Are you opening the garage, or should I park outside?”

“I didn´t bring the tag – Wait, are you going up?”

“Street it is then.”

“Answer me, stupid.”

“Yes, I´m going up.”

“What for?”

“You said it yourself, if we´re best friends and nothing more is ever happening, there should be no problem with me sleeping over, right? We´ve done it thousands of times.”

“Yeah,” You squeezed your eyes at him. You knew what game he was playing, trying to prove you wrong – But you were also convinced you were more stubborn than him and that you would instead prove him wrong.

“Slumber party, fun!” He exclaimed, taking the key out and tapping your thigh before leaving his car.

“Since this was kind of last minute,” You heard Wooyoung´s voice approaching your room, “I didn´t really bring any clothes.”

And there he was, next to your bed in nothing but a towel around his hips, long messy hair slightly dripping down his torso and toothbrush in his mouth, looking all casual like you both knew he wasn´t doing this on purpose.

The fact that it was working only made you even more annoyed.

“You know where the drawer with your stuff is,” You groaned, pretending to look at your nails.

He looked way too smug as he turned to your closet, opening said drawer to pull out some sweatpants. You kind of expected (or is it hoped the right word?) that he would just unknot the towel and expose himself to try and seduce you, but he behaved and simply pulled the pants under the fabric before unwrapping it.

“Have you not heard about underwear?”

“Have you not heard that it´s healthier to sleep without it? You should hang out with me more, I can teach you a lot.”

“Yeah, I already see you enough, thanks.”

“Come dry my hair.”

“I think you´re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.”

“Yeah, but I like when you do it.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pushing the blanket out of you, “Fine.”

Wooyoung walked to the bathroom in front of you, surely having planned the way his back and arms looked from behind. You had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times already, why did you feel like you wanted to jump him now?!!?!?!? You figured you were over it after coming back to your senses but oh boy, were you wrong.

“Has San been dragging you to the gym?” You asked as he bent over to get the hair dryer from the bottom drawer. You figured making small talk and acting normally would keep your brain busy.

“Yeah. And you would know that if you opened the hundreds of snaps I send you every day.”

“I´m not 14, Wooyoung. Snapchat died in 2015, sorry to inform you,” You joked as you plugged the dryer he handed you. “Give me the towel.”

He did as told, sitting down on your toilet as you started drying the water excess from his hair. Doing your best so no part of your arm or leg would accidentally touch his skin since you could feel the heat emanating from it.

That was no way of living.

Once the towel was completely damp, you tossed it on the floor and grabbed a brush, ignoring how he closed his eyes in appreciation at the touch. You fucking hated him and the way your heart was beating fast for absolutely no reason.

Now untangled, you reached over to get the hair dryer once again but were stopped with a soft touch to the side of your leg.

You looked down at the man expecting an answer and he simply gave you a lazy smile, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you in between his legs, “Come here. Let me look at you while you do it.”

Well, you let him pull you along because there was nothing really sexual about it, Wooyoung was just a touchy person and he looked like he was about to fall asleep anyways.

You turned on the dryer and used your fingers to move his hair around so the heat would get to his roots, feeling the skin of your face heat up at the way he hummed in content. Wooyoung had a lot of hair, and not just that, but he had a lot of thick hair, so you were already aware you would spend a long time in there, appreciating the silence and the fact he was pretty much out of it so you could let your guard down.

WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY you jumped in surprise when both of his hands found their way to the side of your thighs, just very softly rubbing them up and down as you dried his strands, goosebumps erupting all over your body at the delicate touch.

Once again, just sleepy touchy Wooyoung.

Nothing new, nothing to fuss over.

Except YOU WERE FUSSING OVER IT BECAUSE ONCE AGAIN YOU FELT A PULSE WHERE YOU DIDN´T WANT TO FEEL A PULSE.

This whole situation was just so domestic and nice that it scratched a very specific part of your brain that got you wanting to live in that moment forever – except maybe not with your best FRIEND.

“I like when you touch me,” His raw voice came out softly. “You don´t do it a lot, so I have to enjoy every chance I get.”

You didn´t have an answer to that, the only thing you could think to say was “stop” but how could he stop when he wasn´t even doing anything to begin with? This time it was not his fault that your mind was in the gutter.

“You have enough people touching you already,” You managed to string a few words.

“Yeah, but it feels nicer when it´s you,” He opened his eyes, you could see the sincerity in them and you felt bad that you kind of just wanted to punch him and run away.

You were also surprised by the sudden unexpected eye contact, which explains why you accidentally pulled one of his strands a bit harshly. WHAT WASN´T EXPLAINED THOUGH, WAS THE LOW MOAN HE LET OUT AND THE WAY HIS EYES CLOSED AS HIS MOUTH PARTED. OR THE WAY YOURS HUNG OPEN TOO AT THE SOUND OR THE WAY YOU COULDN´T STOP STARING AT THE STUPID MOLE ON HIS LIP.

It was a moment of insanity, a few seconds when your soul was out of your body; when you tentatively pulled on his hair again, feeling his nails digging into the skin of your thighs and his breathing getting heavier, yours matching.

“If you really don´t want us to fuck then you´re just being cruel right now,” He breathed out, eyes still closed as his forehead met your abdomen.

“I don´t?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. I don´t. I think your hair is dry.”

“It´s definitely not,” He argued, raising his head once again. “C´mon, finish it. No funny business, I promise.”

You wanted to tell him it´s not him you were worried about, it’s the way your own body was betraying you that bothered you, but you took a deep breath and continued with the work, doing your best to ignore his eyes on you or how his hands were once again toying with your thighs or how his thighs were touching your legs or how he was centimeters away from you.

Yeah, a lot of things to ignore.

Was your bathroom always this small?

“You smell nice.”

“I shower once in a while,” You agreed. “And you said no funny business.”

“I´m complimenting you, how is that sexual?”

“It´s not,” You agreed.

He smirked at you because he too was well aware of the tension, if the way his sweatpants were suddenly tight were anything to go by. Thankfully he didn´t answer because you don´t think you could continue to ignore it if he mentioned he was getting hard just by you drying his hair.

Eventually, after what felt like days, you finally turned off the dryer and prayed he would agree to your suggestion, “You´re done. Wanna sleep?”

“Nop, this is a slumber party.”

“What? You want to have a pillow fight now or do facemasks and gossip?” You rolled your eyes.

“Although the first option sounds fun, I was thinking we can watch something until we fall asleep.”

Watch something.

Until you fell asleep.

In your bed.

Sure, what could go wrong?

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked amusedly.

“Building a barrier between our sides of the bed.”

He laughed loudly at that, crawling into the bed too and taking the pillows from where you were organizing them, “Wooyoung!”

“Shut up, you enjoyed cuddling once and you will enjoy it again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Afraid you won´t be able to resist me? I thought we were just friends,” He teased.

“Very funny-“

“Because if you´re interested we can just skip the foreplay and go straight to –“

“What do you want to watch?”

You ignored his low chuckle, giving up on fighting for the pillows and getting comfortable on your bed so you could turn on the TV.

“Community?”

“Great,” You agreed between gritted teeth, opening the Netflix app and putting on the show from where you two had stopped it as Wooyoung fluffed the pillows behind his back next to you.

This time he didn´t even ask before pulling you in between his legs, your back against his chest. You didn´t even fight it because honestly, what for? You simply groaned as you felt him searching for the light switch on the wall over your bed.

“Don´t pretend you don´t enjoy it, I´ve got you all figured out now.”

“Yeah yeah, believe what you want to.”

“Shut up, I´m trying to watch the show.”

You huffed, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms all at the same time. You knew it wasn´t at him you were annoyed – although he was sure making a great job at feeding into it.

You also immediately regretted wearing shorts as the palms of his hands splayed over your thighs.

“It´s too hot,” You complained, hoping he would let you go.

Wooyoung simply stretched out one of his hands and grabbed the AC remote, turning it on before tossing it away and returning his palm to your thigh. His silence told you he was focused on the show and you truly wish you could say the same about yourself, but instead, your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you like it was a car wreck, not being able to look away no matter how much your brain ordered you to. Your knees were bent, your thighs almost touching your chest, so his hands were just right there in your line of sight, all veiny and calloused.

The harder you tried to stir your mind away and pay attention to the TV, the more your brain looked like a Wattpad fanfic written by a 40-year-old who just got divorced and discovered sex wasn't just missionary. The conversation you had with Wooyoung about how the girls he fucked became literally obsessed with him kept flashing into your head and you were legitimately about to bite onto your fist and scream for 7 whole minutes.

Your mental breakdown however was interrupted by the man behind you, who with no words started tracing his fingers – seemingly – unpresumptuously over your skin. You ignored it because you had no energy to fight it and as long as it stayed PG-rated it would be fine.

The soft touches plus the very cold wind from the AC hitting you got goosebumps to erupt up your skin and you just felt how your nipples were suddenly sensitive against the fabric of your shirt and Wooyoung´s hand were just there, mere centimeters away and oh, you so desperately wanted him to touch them. In fact, you wanted it so badly you were fighting for your life to keep the uncomfortable squirming to a minimum.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t notice it – deep down you knew he was just pretending not to for your sake, but if he could, so would you.

“Who do you think is hotter, Annie or Britta?” His voice suddenly, almost against your ear, shocked you. “Oh, jumpy, are we?”

“Shut up, I was just startled.”

“So?”

“Britta.”

“Same.”

He went quiet once again, except now, when you thought his mind was once again focused on the show, his hands started getting braver. They escalated from just his fingers drawing shapes on the patch above your knees to suddenly coming down to the sensitive skin between your thighs. You jerked involuntarily even though he only traced his fingers about halfway down your legs. Wooyoung once again pretended to not notice your reaction and you pretended to not notice he was touching you.

His fingers gently brushing the sides of your thighs all the way to your knees before you could feel the tip of his middle finger slowly grazing your skin down the inside of your thighs, lower and lower each time he came down. At this point your heart was beating so fast it was almost coming out of your throat, your breathing labored and sweat building up on your forehead even though the room was freezing cold.

“She´s kind of annoying, though.”

“Who?” You breathed out, honestly not even knowing your name anymore.

“Britta.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence once again.

Attention back to the show.

You had to control your whine of disappointment when he retreated his hands.

Ok, you took the chance to breathe, count to 10 and give yourself a pep talk. You could do this. You would not fuck your best friend. If not because of your morals and because of your friendship, because fucking him would mean he won, and you would never give Wooyoung the satisfaction.

Ok, you could do this.

You could definitely do this.

Wooyoung gently gathered your hair and pushed it over your right shoulder, the familiar goosebumps showing up once again at the way the tip of his fingers brushed against the skin of your neck.

Yeah, you could not do this.

The sound that came out of your mouth when his wet lips met the juncture between your neck and shoulder could only be described as a pinscher finding out it could bark. You were in fact shaking as much as those annoying tiny dogs are known for.

You froze, not being able to react when you felt him sucking on your skin or when his tongue tried to soothe the pain his teeth left behind. Your core was clenching so hard it hurt.

“Wooyoung,” Your voice came out as half plead half warning.

“Hm?” He hummed against a different spot on your neck, and it made it a thousand times worse.

“We shouldn´t-”

“Just tell me to stop and I will.”

Except you couldn´t. Not when he found your sweet spot and grazed his teeth against it before gently sucking on it. This time you allowed yourself to squirm and you felt it at the same time you heard it; Wooyoung groaned as you accidentally pressed against him and figured out you were not the only one going insane. His dick was hard and now very much pulsing against your ass and lower back.

Both of you realized you never told him to stop and you were fighting so hard to gain control of your body back as he kissed the vein on your neck - but it was all lost when his hands snaked around your torso and grabbed your boobs. You whimpered, shamefully, squeezing your legs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing.

His kisses grew harsher, as he sucked one spot hard enough to leave a mark, the pad of his middle fingers toyed with your nipples and you simply couldn't pretend you didn´t want this to happen anymore, not with the way you could literally start dripping onto your bed any moment now.

A gasp left your lips when his right hand grabbed onto your thigh and pulled your legs open. You felt his dick twitching when he saw the wet patch in the middle of your shorts.

“Oh, princess,” He sighed, pressing against the stain in pure admiration.

“Wooyoung-”

“Tell me to stop.”

He gave you no time to consider his words, pulling the bottom of your shorts and panties to the side and rubbing his middle finger down your slit to wet it. You carved your nails onto his thighs in return, doing your best to stay grounded. It didn´t even take a minute for you to understand why the prior girls who slept with Wooyoung became obsessed with him, you weren´t really doing anything yet and the second the pad of his finger found your clit while his other hand gently pressed down onto your lower stomach everything became even clearer. You threw your head back on his shoulder in pleasure as he rubbed figure eights against your clit.

Yeah, you agreed to pretend nothing happened starting tomorrow, but you figured you would never be able to forget the sound of your best friend´s deep moan against your ear when he felt you around his finger for the first time.

“Glad to see I´m not the only one going crazy,” He groaned against your ear - and when did his voice get so raspy?

You whined once again, not really knowing what else to do when you were practically on the edge from a minute or two of stimulation.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Wooyoung-”

“I love when you say my name.”

Were you about to cry?

At this point, you just wanted him to ignore you and throw you around and do whatever he wanted, but you knew he wouldn´t until you said so, and you were definitely not doing that. Although with every second that passed with his finger on you, that definitely was turning more into a probably.

“I never told you.”

“Wha- What?”

“From all the ways I imagined this happening, I never told you my favorite.”

“What is it?”

“It´s the one where we´re in a sleepover and you´re so desperate that you can´t even go to the bathroom, so you just very quietly put your hands inside your shorts and touch yourself right next to me thinking that I´m asleep. And I pretend I am, but I can hear the small whimpers you try to hold back, I can feel the slight shake of the bed and I can hear how wet you are so clearly. Sometimes, I even imagine you would decide to use me, not even try to wake me up, just sit on my face and ride it until I pretend to wake up and finally eat you out until you´re crying and shaking.”

When you literally had to hold yourself back from finishing at his words, you grabbed his hand and turned around on your knees, smashing your lips with no fanciness against his. He was quick to grab your ass and direct you to sit on top of his legs, your thighs on either side of his in the familiar position as your tongues met and you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck with all the frustration you had inside you.

“We´re not fucking,” You informed in between labored breaths.

“We don´t have to fuck, I just need you to sit on my face.”

You never whined so loudly in your life before.

That was the one single thing you have been dreaming about hearing for weeks now and you were so happy you could practically cry, in fact, you almost came right there without even being touched.

I´ll be posting part 2 this week because this was already too long and crashing my terrible terrible computer <3

I´ll be proof reading this some other day sorry for any mistakes I´m just a dyslexic girl with adhd and no english lessons ever

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung fics #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #ateez fics #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung #jung wooyoung

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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 6

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe

The car ride is the worst of your life.

Neither of you speak.

And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything.

Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue.

Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again.

When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on.

For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away.

“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes.

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted.

Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart.

But you never claimed to be strong.

Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.

“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”

Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands.

The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry.

For not loving you?

If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?

But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces.

As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied.

“I don’t understand you.”

The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears.

“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed.

“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding.

He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for.

“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”

A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath.

His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond.

“Love you back?”

You blink.

Your stomach drops.

For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself.

What a way to make an exit from your relationship.

Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something.

What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know.

“I didn’t…”

“You didn’t mean it.”

The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp.

“That’s not what I was—”

“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”

It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions.

“Spencer…”

It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable.

He swallows.

“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”

For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.

“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”

“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”

And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice.

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”

You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her.

“Wait.”

He says your name.

And of course you pause.

You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle.

“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again.

The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring.

“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”

You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about.

Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break.

“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”

Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly.

“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

You blink.

And for some reason, begin sobbing.

Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

You take a shuddering breath.

“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”

Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper.

You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty.

“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”

“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”

You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly.

“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”

His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel. Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this.

“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes. “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”

Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft.

“How could I not be so in love with you?”

Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold.

“Really?”

“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”

The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw.

When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat.

“Too honest?”

You shake your head as if in a fog.

“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”

He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone.

“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”

“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder.

“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”

There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up.

“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”

He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning.

“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”

You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him.

Spencer kisses you on the cheek.

“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”

As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room.

“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on.

“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand.

“Ambience over everything, baby.”

His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other.

“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”

You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy.

Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.

He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this.

“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets.

“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”

He knows he hasn’t.

“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”

Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC.

“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”

“I missed you too,” you admit softly.

He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes.

Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs.

Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.

His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon.

And he’s laughing.

“What were you drinking?”

You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.

“Water.”

“Before that, baby. At the bar.”

You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall.

“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”

Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige.

Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all.

“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip.

“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face.

It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same.

“Love you.”

He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own.

“I love you.”

It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips.

A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately.

Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first.

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology.

“For what?”

The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly.

“For what I said at the bar.”

Oh.

That.

It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth.

You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you.

At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth.

“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”

Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak.

“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”

“It is not. I made you cry.”

Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him.

“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”

You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back.

“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”

You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly.

“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too.

But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight.

“You know what you could do right now?”

The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would.

“What’s that?”

You smile slyly.

“You could kiss me again.”

“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”

“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours.

“I thought I was already forgiven.”

“Apologies can be retracted.”

“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel.

As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks.

Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee.

Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now.

But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy.

“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.

He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming.

“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”

Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him.

“Playing nice?”

“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”

Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his.

“According to who?”

His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?

“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”

You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart.

“What?”

“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”

You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall.

“I think I’m in a great place.”

At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet.

“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”

“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours.

“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”

Reluctantly you nod.

“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”

In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier.

“Hey.”

“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly.

“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”

That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would.

“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”

He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”

“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”

You turn back around, brows raised.

“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”

“Uh-huh. Come here.”

Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case.

But at the same time—everything’s different.

And you won’t make the same mistake twice.

“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face.

“Hey what?”

“I remembered what I was gonna say.”

The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Tell me.”

“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”

“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”

It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.

“You already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”

And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all.

“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top.

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled.

Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage.

Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.

Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you.

Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement.

The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself.

Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest.

“Jesus, you—”

But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs.

“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”

part seven

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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hellisharchive · 7 months ago

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Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

﹒﹒﹒perversions of the soul

➤ [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

➤ 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

➤ Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒﹒lucifer

He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒﹒﹒adam

This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

﹒﹒﹒valentino

Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒﹒﹒vox

Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒﹒﹒saint peter

That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #saint peter x reader #valentino x reader #saint peter #valentino #vox #lucifer morningstar #adam #lucifer morningstar x reader

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chaotic-mystery · 5 months ago

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Consider It a Favor || J.M.

Summary: Your AC breaks in your car and the one person around to help is your neighbor, Mr.Miller. (No outbreak!Joel miller x f!reader)

Content Warnings: 18+ as always, MDNI. Age gap (Not specified but I put Sarah in college) DILF Joel mowing his lawn, reader is able-bodied and is wearing a swim suit/coverup, reader has hair Joel can pull, kissing, swearing, (1) blowjob, size kink go brrr, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, baby) facedown ass up, babey, a little manhandling, unprotected penetration (don't look at me okay, the whore in me jumped out), dirty talk, Joel hyping up his ego, pussy ownership, creampie, a little glimpse of aftercare and what really happened to your AC.

Authors Note: This is my own submission for Summer Lovin' 24! We had a blast making this and I will def do another in the future. Ali, you are an absolute beast for making all of these moodboards, thank you bby. As always, go check out everyone else's submissions, Ali's been on top of it with the masterlist so you can find them all in one place over at @pedgito🖤 (Also are we surprised I'm posting this late? No)

|| wc: 3.4k || Dividers by me || Masterlist ||

There he was again, Mr.Miller in the front of his house mowing away at the barley grown grass with nothing but gray shorts on and his shoes, the sweat glistening in the sun over his shoulders. You knew it was wrong to look at your neighbor like this but how could you help yourself when he was so irresistible?

He didn’t have a problem with you staring either, he never told you to stop or that it made him feel weird. Having the attention of a woman made him feel good, especially when she was younger than him. It let him know he still had it in him.

“Hi Mr.Miller!” You try shouting over the roaring lawn mower but it was no use. He keeps walking up and down near the sidewalk, making sure he doesn’t miss an inch. If you didn’t get going now, you were never going to make the beach party you got invited to earlier. Making your way down the stairs of your wooden deck and sneaking glances at him every few steps to your car, you smile to yourself imagining him at the beach, laying on his stomach to tan that beautiful back.

Fading back into reality, you realize he was standing in front of you snapping and waving his fingers to get your attention.

“How’s it goin’ sugar? Doin’ okay in this heat?”

“O-oh! Yeah, I’m just on my way to the beach now. Grass looks really good, can I pay you to cut my dads?” You joke and point behind you to the taller grass that didn’t look so bad before Joel cut his.

“No, c’mon don’t start that shit. Well I’ll let you get goin’. I’m fixin’ to finish this yard anyway.”

He waves goodbye and you stand up straight to look your best for his last glance at you, something to hopefully think about when he’s finishing his grass. Flipping over the engine as soon as you get inside, you roll the windows down to let the warm air out and you blast the AC to cool down. Something felt off though, the car was making a weird sound and the air wasn’t getting cold like it usually did. Frustrated and hot, you get back out and slam the door shut, walking in front of the hood to open it. Joel notices you get out and he turns to watch you, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Everything okay, darlin?” He wipes his hands on his shorts as he walks over to you.

“No, my goddamn AC won’t work right and I don’t know why but I can’t drive there without it, I would actually rather eat a jean jacket.”

He laughs and shakes his head before walking over to the driver side door, climbing in to stick his hand in front of the air vent. Feeling for himself firsthand the disgustingly warm air that was hotter than satan's asshole, Joel walks back to the hood and rests his hand along the top of it, his arm stretched up over his head.

“I can take a look at it if you want? Probably won’t make it to the beach today but I can try like hell.”

“Are you sure? I have some cash inside the house to pay you. Hold on, let me go grab it.” You sprint towards the front door of the house and pat down the pockets of your skimpy coverup for the sound of the jingling keys. “Hey Joel, do you see my house keys in my car on the seat?”

“Let me look, sweetheart.” He opens the passenger side door and glances around on the passenger seat, not a single nickel key anywhere in sight. This was perfect, just perfect. You locked yourself out and you’re stuck outside in your swimsuit under the see through cover up you just had to wear instead of wearing normal clothes like every other person ever.

“No! No key!” He shouts from your car and gets out, shaking his head side to side in case you didn’t hear him.

Fuck. What were you going to do now? No one else was going to be home until later tonight, window climbing was out of the question, the back screen door had a wooden pole in the track to keep people from breaking in when you weren’t using it, there were no options but to hang out with Joel. You didn’t mind, but dressed like this? What would the neighbors think considering how nosy they are and the neighbor across the street who Joel briefly had a thing with. No one knew about that but you, thank god for late night trips to sit on the roof and smoke, right? You get to hear everything when it’s quiet.

Joel shuts the hood and gets back in the driver's seat, the door latching softly behind him. His big hand grabs the back of the passenger seat headrest as he reverses out of your driveway with the other one hand on the wheel, spinning it in such a controlled way it weirdly turns you on seeing him drive like that. He pulls into his garage and shuts off the engine before tucking the keys in the sun visor. He chuckles at the key to keychain ratio you have on the worn out carabiner, the red paint scratched all over and showing the silver metal under it.

”So, turns out I locked myself out of my house…this is just great.” You scratch your forehead in frustration and sigh. If you were just paying attention to what you were doing when you were leaving you wouldn’t have locked yourself out and you wouldn’t be out here half naked with Joel. You fling the trunk open and start to look for extra clothes, anything to put on to be a little more presentable and not have the neighbors question your entire life.

The options were slim pickings. A choice between wearing a hoodie in 100 degree weather, a safety vest you swore you needed to buy the other day, and someone’s jeans that weren’t your size at all.

“What are you doin’ back there?”

“Looking for something to put on because I look crazy.”

A sigh of relief washes over you as you find all the way in the corner of the trunk, an oversized gray t-shirt you didn’t even remember owning. The band printed on the front was so faded out by now you couldn’t tell who was even on it.

Pulling the cotton fabric over your swimsuit and shimming your cover up down your legs until you’re able to step out of it, you toss it in the trunk before you slam it shut and grab a seat next to the oscillating fan he has going. The semi cool air blows your scent right in his direction and he tries to act normal about the smell of your perfume mixed with sunscreen. He yanks the short stool over to him and the wheels wobble as it rolls fast towards him and he sits down with his flashlight in his other hand, inspecting what could be the issue. The heat was starting to get to you and your head was pounding, ringing with a sharp headache.

“Sweetheart, come hold this light for me, would you please?”

“Y-yeah, absolutely.”

You stand up a little too eagerly and walk over to where he was in front of the car. Joel’s hand brushes against yours as he holds out the black flashlight, his dark brown eyes glancing up at yours as soon as your skin touches. It was something you’d never felt before. Maybe it was because he was so much older and it was wrong to feel this way about your neighbor. Maybe it was the excitement of knowing you’d be thinking about this later when you were home and by yourself, taking care of this aching feeling that was growing between your thighs.

“Point it up just a little bit more, yeah right there. Good girl.”

At this point he has to know what he was doing to you, the smirk on his lips was a dead give away. He saw the way your eyes widened just enough to make his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t act on it. Not yet, at least. He grunts and groans as he starts to move stuff and loosen nuts, the same sounds you imagine echo off his bedroom walls when he’s taking care of himself. He seems like a moaner when he’s jerking off, with such a big house and just one person living there now, there was no way he was a silent masturbater.

A few hours passed and your hair was sticking to the nape of your neck, completely drenched in sweat. He ended up finding the problem and fixing it just like that. He must know what he’s doing because he found the problem fast…a little too fast.

“Thank you, Mr.Miller, I really appreciate it. Do you have something I can drink?”

“Oh, shit! I’ve got lemonade inside, c’mon. Ladies first.”

Joel stands up and lets you walk past before he’s behind you, watching your amazing ass move as you walk up the two little steps to go inside the house. His hand reaches up to the wall and presses on the white button to close the garage door. Seeing the inside of his house was new to you, you’d only seen what you could inside by the front door when you walked by. The tan walls lead you to the kitchen and he points to the white counter island.

“Sit and wait for me right here, I’ll get ya some lemonade and we can cool off.”

His finger points to the small barstool tucked under the counter and you straddle the leather top, your ass looking so tempting. The air blows through the vent next to your leg and you shiver slightly as it kisses your warm leg, your nipples hardening under your shirt. Joel walks over to your side and stands close, the lemonade glass clinking against the counter when he sets it down.

“So what do I owe you?” You ask, taking a sip of lemonade.

“Nothin’ consider it a favor.”

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t want it to just be a favor, but if he wanted to play that game, you could too.

“More than sure, sweetheart.”

Joel’s waist is so close to brushing against your arm, it was killing you not to move just the slightest to feel him on you. You look up at him and roll your eyes slightly.

“What was that for?” He asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smirk grows wider on your face before you turn the stool forward but Joel’s hand comes to your neck, right underneath your hair, and he grasps firmly before he guides you to look at him once more.

“Think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

His words were breathy, as if he’s running out of time to talk and his lips crash onto yours. Joel’s mustache pokes against your lip as you kiss him deeper before pulling away, standing with your back against the counter, Joel right in front of you with his hands on his hips.

“I um, I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Joel looks around the kitchen as if his excuse is written out on the walls for him.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me, Mr.Miller.”

The innocent smile you flash at him causes him to chuckle and shake his head at you. Joel crosses his arms over his chest and gives a pause before responding.

“You’re trouble, you know that? Come here.” His finger signals for you to come closer and you happily oblige. Joel’s hands squeeze your hips before his right one travels up to your neck, gripping firmly so you can’t wiggle away.

“Tell me, princess…is that what you want? You want me to bend you over the couch, touch you until you can’t take it, shove my cock in your pretty little mouth?”

Full body chills wash over you. Jesus christ, he was good. Looking at him in his eyes once more, the true nature of Joel Miller was coming out to play. The man who pretended to be an innocent, quiet neighbor, was actually just an older man who wanted to fuck you just as much, if not more than you wanted him to. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

“That’s exactly what I want. More than anything.” You grab his forearm and rub softly before following down to his hip.

It was driving him crazy the way you were toying with the waistband of his gray shorts, the anticipation was killing him. Joel lets go of your neck and nods his head to the floor, wanting you to get on your knees in front of him. When you kneel down and sit patiently, his shorts fall right to his feet, hardened cock springing out in front of you.

“I don’t think this is gonna fit, Joel.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry; I’ll make it fit. Open your mouth, sweetheart.”

Joel waits until your lips part and your tongue sticks out before smacking the tip of his cock against the wetness pooling on your tongue. His groans fill your ears like a symphony and you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. His cock wasn’t even inside you yet and you were already so wet for him, you could feel it all over the inside of your swimsuit bottoms. You grab the base and begin sucking, taking your time so your lips run slowly over every vein, every inch of skin his cock has to offer.

The amazing work you were doing with your mouth causes him to grunt and buck his hips, ever so slightly face fucking you until he looks down with his teeth clenched from the pleasure.

“God damn, you can take it deep. Nasty little one. Doin’ even better than I imagined.”

The bell goes off in your head and you slowly take his cock out of your mouth and look up at him with a grin on your face.

“You think about what it would be like to get a blowjob from me?”

Joel scratches his beard and looks away from you so you don’t see the blush creeping on his face.

“I do, every night. You don’t make it easier on me when I see you outside half naked because it’s so hot out, your tits spilling out of your top. You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

Now it was your turn to feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You always wondered if he noticed your outfits and he was giving you answers you never thought you’d get. You continue working your tongue from his balls all the way to the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue over the tip and getting any precum dripping out from the way you had him going. His hand runs through your hair and wraps around it, tugging everytime your tongue brushes over the sensitive spot right under the tip.

“Get up, I can’t take this anymore. I need to fuck you, I need to feel what it’s like inside you.”

He helps you up and walks you over to the black leather couch tucked right under the big picture window in the living room, tossing you down onto the cushions and pulling your ass up into the air with your back arched. He watches as the swim fabric reveals your glossy cunt with the help of Joel pulling the bottoms down just to sit right below your ass.

“Are you ready to be a good girl for me?” Joel grabs your hips and leans over you, cupping your breasts and toying with a nipple as he grinds his cock against your ass waiting for your approval.

“Y-yes, Joel. I want you to stretch me out. Give it all to me, please.”

That was enough for him to push his thick cock deep inside you and for a moment your eyes rolled back into your skull. It was one thing having it down your throat but it was another when it feels like it's tearing you in two. Joel’s big hand spreads on your lower back as he drives himself deeper into you, giving you a moment of time to adjust to him before he starts thrusting.

“Fuck you’re so tight, already squeezing around me. You like that, baby?” His hips slam into you with a rhythmed pace and he grabs your wrists, pinning them to your back while he goes faster.

Joel’s balls pat against your ass with the speed he’s going and his grunts fall into sync with yours. The two of you start to move against each other and Joel pins your arms tighter to your back to keep himself steady. This was everything you wanted and more and the way your tummy was doing flips, you knew he was ruining you and this wasn’t just a one time thing.

“Oh my god, Mr.Miller please, go harder, please. Spank me.”

Joel’s ears perk up and he doesn’t let your arms fall to your side. He holds your wrists with one hand and begins to slap your ass, groaning with every connection his palm makes with your cheeks. You lose count after the fourth one and continue to moan Joel’s name, your pussy aching from the contact.

“I think you’re gonna get me addicted to this pussy, sweetheart. Gonna have to come over again so you can make yourself feel good on my cock, you like the sound of that, baby? I hope I ruin guys your age for you so you only want an older man deep inside you.”

You whine out and the building feeling in your tummy continues and Joel’s words almost push you over the edge. His hand lets go of your wrists and grasp firmly on your hips, slamming your body back against his.

“I can feel you wanting to come. Is that right? Tell me who this pussy belongs to, sweetheart. Tell me” he growls and spanks you.

Your teeth clamp together as you try not to come yet but he makes it hard with the way he’s plowing into you. Gripping onto the cushion next to you, you try to answer but his moans catch you off guard and make you lose focus.

“C’mon, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to and I’ll let you come.”

Joel spanks your ass again and it brings you enough momentum to respond.

“It’s-fuck-it’s yours Joel. This pussy is yours, all yours I swear.”

The groan he pulls deep from his sternum is exactly what you need to send you over, dissolving into pleasure underneath Joel. He doesn’t stop thrusting inside of you as he finds it fascinating to watch you squirm and choke out broken moans of his name.

“It’s okay, I got you baby. I’ve got you.” He pants out and soon he’s following you, shooting his load of cum deep inside you. The two of you whimper soft nothings as you come down off your high and Joel catches his breath while he goes soft inside you, the living room falling quiet now.

As you lay there in a daze with Joel getting off of you, he gives you another moment before he helps you up and fixes your swimsuit bottoms to where they should be sitting. You fix your hair to not look so crazy and turn around to look outside the window and over to your driveway, no one home yet.

“Joel, would it be okay if I took a nap? You kinda wore my ass out.” You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, absolutely. I won’t uh, I won’t make you sleep on the couch though. C’mon, come sleep in my bed. I’ll make us somethin’ to eat.” He kisses your forehead and walks you to his room. The blue walls and gray sheets invite you in and you’re drawn to his bed immediately. The pillows still fluffed and mangled from him sleeping earlier in the morning but you couldn’t wait to lay on them. He gets you all cozy and in his spot he sleeps and kisses you once more.

“I’ll come get you when the food is done. Also, sorry I ruined your AC but at least I fixed it!” He says quickly and disappears down the stairs.

#summerlovin24 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #neighbor!joel #tw age gap #the last of us hbo #joel smut #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #my writing

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gojorgeous · 10 months ago

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"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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ahundredtimesover · 8 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (09) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; use of the term slut in a derogatory way, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 18.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I return to uni. On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Seeing you standing in his kitchen donned in that pastel-colored blouse makes Jungkook stop in his tracks; you’re exactly who he needs to wake him up.

It’s been weeks of vacation, which also means weeks without his usual routine. It’s striking how being absorbed in his work has altered him in that sense - he looks for the stress, for the long hours, for the isolation that’s demanded of his job. Perhaps there was just really nothing to look forward to, and work was an excuse for all those things because there wasn’t much else going for him. Ironic, considering everything he can do with what he has, yet nothing seems to be what he’s looking for, even if deep down, he knows what it is.

This is something that Hoseok and A-yeong made him realize during the trip as he watched them gush about the pretty streets and marvel at the fjords and immerse themselves in the view of the northern lights.

His cousin, the President of the company who makes decisive decisions and conducts press conferences and signs off on billion won projects, is the same man who squealed during a husky ride in Finland, laughed his butt off when he slipped on a glacier, and muttered words of love to his wife as they all watched the bright evening sky over the lake in Norway. There was so much passion in him, something A-yeong mirrored, whether it was about work or his relationships or just about everything in life. Hoseok looked forward to that trip, to that time with his wife, to that break, to seeing the scenery and feeling peace.

While Jungkook found himself constantly thinking about the Arts Center and upcoming projects and new design ideas… and the one person who connected him to all those - you. It felt like he was rushing towards something because the achievement was the goal, and while he stopped by the mountains and marveled at the water as he sat on the cliffs, his mind was racing, chasing something that he couldn’t even grasp.

That’s how the past six years have been. Perhaps more, he thinks. Maybe 20. He’s never allowed himself to just be. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know who he is outside of what he does; he doesn’t know much of how he is outside of being an executive and heir, and so during the moments when he isn’t functioning as such, he’s a bit lost, just existing in a place he’s visiting, not knowing how to interact, how to breathe; not knowing how to connect or to be free.

You’re the bright spot amidst it all. With you around, he still seems to be wandering while stuck in a certain spot, but he’s not alone because you’re there. With you around, there’s a sense of calmness somehow, with your smile and your presence warming the coldest parts of him that he’s left untouched and unfeeling for years.

So when he walks towards you, his eyes fully opening now to see you better, he hums in satisfaction.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, prompting you to turn around. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

“Really, Mr. Jeon? I thought the three weeks felt fast,” you giggle. “But it’s nice to see you, too. Were you able to rest out there?”

“Somehow,” he replies, taking the glass of water you give him.

“Is that why you passed on your morning workout to sleep in?” You raise an eyebrow, thinking that he’d slept in when you walked into his penthouse earlier without the usual sounds from the gym that you’d gotten used to.

“I was pretty jet lagged,” he groans. “Couldn’t sleep so I did it last night to tire myself out and then I finally fell asleep three hours ago. It’s a miracle I woke up after the tenth snooze of my alarm.”

“Ooh, that is not good, considering all the documents on your desks and messages on your inbox,” you shake your head. “What if I move the team meeting to tomorrow so you don’t push yourself too hard today? You could’ve taken the day off.”

“And have a worse day tomorrow? No thanks,” he chuckles. “I’m fine, but I agree with moving the meeting.”

“Just take it slow,” you advise. “I brought some pastries because I know your fridge and pantry are empty. I’ll get them ready shortly.”

“I’ll wash up then.”

You follow not long after, preparing his outfits for the second half of the week, then setting out the breakfast for both of you. He returns to the kitchen wearing the brown suit you chose for today, looking just as handsome as you remember. You fix his tie like you always do and meet his eyes like it’s reflex, the warmth bubbling within you when he returns your soft smile. You take your seat a chair away, taking your iPad after to start going through updates when he stops you.

“Not yet, please. My mind’s still half asleep.”

“Okay, sir,” you respond. “We can talk about your trip instead. How was it?”

Jungkook finds himself more engaged in telling you about it, not like how he was when his best friends met him for dinner last night and he was too tired to narrate how it went. But you ask with such excitement that he ends up sharing more than what he planned.

He talks about the Vikings museum and historical tours, the bike rides and coastal walks, the calm but lively cities and the breathtaking waterfalls. He even mentions the things he’d only kept to himself - like that one evening when the sky looked like one of Lee Jaemin’s paintings that had him staying at the balcony with a glass of wine while basking in its beauty, and when they were in Hans Christian Andersen’s hometown and he wondered what kind of fairytale character he would be, and that he learned he really enjoys hot springs during the winter. They’re random thoughts that he just ended up saying, somehow feeling natural and comfortable in sharing them with you.

You indulge him, asking more and sharing your thoughts, too. You even throw in the occasional teasing remark and playful laughter. You ask about the scenery, expressing your yearning for the outdoors that you said you never really appreciated before, as the open space always overwhelmed you.

He passes you his iPad where he’s opened the folder of the photos that he took with his camera, a gift from Taehyung who’d said that Jungkook needed to go out more and “feel the sun.” He rarely used it but a Northern Europe trip seemed like the perfect excuse. He’s used to assessing interiors and marveling at structures from afar, but this time he got to appreciate what lies beyond his walls, beyond the little world he’s been burrowing himself in.

“These are stunning, Jungkook,” you gush, dropping the formalities as he shares something that feels so personal. “I didn’t know you had the talent for photography, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” he shakes his head. “I took it as an elective during university and it helps with design ideas. I should at least take nice photos if I need inspiration or a basis. I don’t really do it much, though.”

“Did it make you feel good, at least?” You ask, wondering what else gives him satisfaction.

“Somehow. It makes me feel good when I’m looking at the pictures. I’m transported to that day and that place again, like a holder of memories and desire for the good things.”

You go through the photos - dozens of them. He didn’t take too many, just one or two shots of every scenery. Beyond the majestic landscape, there are the everyday scenes - people talking at a cafe, strangers enjoying the park. There’s a couple holding hands, laughing at each other; from the silhouettes, you can tell they’re Hoseok and A-yeong, a moment that Jungkook probably thought too precious to not capture.

Something in you stirs, as the photos elicit a mix of awe and yearning. You look at Jungkook and you think it’s what he felt, too.

There’s a saying you heard about watching what people photograph to learn what they fear losing. With Jungkook, it seems as if these - freedom, tranquility, connection, intimacy - are things he wants; somehow they seem to be what he fears having.

“It’s nice to have a keeper of good memories, isn’t it? Of that reminder that beautiful things exist and that they’re tangible, you know?” You say, returning his gadget.

“It is,” he responds after a beat of silence, seemingly processing your words. “We forget sometimes. Or maybe, we just don’t know what that’s like. In that case it’s like an illusion. But it’s still good to have that, I guess. It’s still something.”

You don’t know what more could be said. It feels too personal or even intimate of a conversation to have with your boss on a Wednesday morning as you eat breakfast in his apartment. So you let it go, smiling as you say you’re glad he got to have some rest.

He says that so does he and then asks about how your holiday was as you both head to the car. You talk about it during the ride, how you spent a week in Wando with your mother’s partner’s family and then drove to Jeonju, how the entirety of your break had you stuffing your face with food and bonding with them, and how they drove you back to Seoul last weekend, thankful that for those two weeks, they had you around.

You don’t tell Jungkook that some days, you’d think of him, wondering how he’s doing. You don’t tell him that you’d seen A-yeong’s posts and that he looked at peace in them, that there was a softness in his eyes that you’ve rarely seen on him. You don’t tell him that despite the vacation that you said you were looking forward to, you were also looking forward to this - having him back, sharing stories, and living in the silence alongside him.

You wonder, as you glance at him looking out the window, if this is what you meant about savoring the moment, enjoying what’s in front of you, and feeling less alone. Because right now, those are exactly what you feel.

Jungkook wanted to wait to get to the office before proceeding to work matters, something that surprises you because he always gets down to business immediately, not unless he’s recovering from a hangover. But he blew you off even in the car, wanting instead to listen to your stories and then doodle on his leather notebook again for the rest of the ride. You end up meeting with him for an hour before he settles in, then he goes to lunch with his father, meets with your team, and then decides to visit the Arts Center mid-afternoon.

Work is back in full-swing just like that, and you pull the energy from within you to manage the crazy week. There are start-of-the-year events to attend and organize, a board report and meeting to prepare for, new projects to initiate, and a major one to monitor.

You’re glad that despite all that, Jungkook allows you to have a four-day off on the succeeding week so you can celebrate your birthday with a road trip down coastal towns with Jimin and Soomin. It’s a silly thing to do in the middle of winter, but they insist that warmth is most satisfying when it’s cold outside, and you don’t disagree. You’ll definitely be sighing in relief when you hold the steaming hot hotteok in between your hands, and it’ll be the best one you’ll have.

It’s Thursday and you’ll be back in a week. You’ve just finished briefing Do-hyun, who’ll be covering for you while you’re away, and you get off your chair to grab tea in the pantry. Jungkook’s voice stops as you, as he stands by his door and asks if you’re already leaving.

“In an hour, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “Is there anything I can help you with until then?”

“No, nothing,” he says. “I’m actually about to leave for dinner with Taehyung and Seokjin.”

“Oh, alright, sir,” you hum. “Goodbye, then. And I’ll see you next week. Just know that you’re the only one who can disturb me.”

He laughs in response. “Come on, I won’t be badgering you, especially on your birthday. It’s your one week away from me. You have to savor it.”

“So should you,” you counter. “But okay. I will.”

“Good,” he nods. “I’ll just fix up and go ahead then.”

He returns to his room and you’re just the tiniest bit disappointed that he didn’t properly greet you but you suppose that’s good for you. So you go to the pantry and end up chit-chatting with the team, finding yourself smiling when you look up and see Jungkook by the door, who tells everyone not to stay too late before he heads out.

You arrive back at your desk, your heart beating fast at the sight of a small brown bag on your table.

For your trip. Something to help remind you that beautiful things exist and they’re tangible, the note reads. Happy birthday.

Your mind goes to a conversation you had not long ago, about how photos can elicit certain emotions and be a keeper of memories, especially of good ones. You know this is from Jungkook, and you also have an idea of what this might be, which is why you open the package right away.

Still, it catches you by surprise, especially when you find two disposable film cameras inside. They’ll definitely be enough for your upcoming trip and you know the photos will come out amazingly. You’re ecstatic.

Perhaps this is why he wanted to leave before you did - you’d thank him and he’d be terrible at accepting it again, then you’ll call him out for it. Maybe it was good he hadn’t stuck around to see you act this way. At least he didn’t see you with that silly smile on your face.

But Yoongi does as you head down the elevator, smirking at you when he sees the bag you’re holding and the familiar handwriting on the card.

“I’m guessing you’re not fighting it anymore, huh?” He says, teasing yet somehow still comforting.

“I’m trying not to, even if I know I’m being stupid,” you admit. “I can at least have these fleeting moments of joy after I walk away from this.”

“Retain the good memories. That’s one way to let things go,” Yoongi advises, as he exits the carriage on the parking lot floor.

The doors close on your smiling face, and he chuckles to himself at the irony of things. That’s how he learned to let you go, after all.

You return to work the following week with a spring in your step, with Jungkook noticing as you heat up the fried rice that you told him you’d be preparing for breakfast. You hum as you go about in the kitchen, feeling energized after the last few days you’ve had.

It was freezing, but you, Soomin, and Jimin went a little crazy and ran down the beach whenever you drove by one, something you all did as kids living in Busan. The drives from town to town were slow but they had you all singing to your favorite songs, munching on chestnuts and bungeoppang, and stopping over viewing sites for fresh air and photos.

You used Jungkook’s gift a lot, taking pictures of things that elicited strong emotions and good memories - purple and orange skies, snow melting on the pavement, the crashing ocean waves turning white at the tip, an empty playground in the park, Soomin’s infectious laughter, Jimin’s angelic smile.

The cold was an excuse to seek your best friends’ warmth and they took advantage of it. It reminded you of those few years growing up with them before you returned to Daegu for college, something you and Jimin reminisced about, and something that you thanked him for after what seemed like ages. You recalled how he approached you first as the new girl who entered school in the middle of the school year, how he followed you around because you were always alone and was scared of loud noises, and how he’s never left your side since then.

Every night during that trip, he hugged you as you tried to fall asleep, knowing you needed it for the cold you felt inside and out. He was next to you when you talked about Jungkook gifting you the cameras and admitted that it made you feel good, that it made you happy.

“I’m glad he’s showing you kindness,” Jimin had said. “But… just be careful, okay? Your heart is capable of a lot of good things. Pain is the last thing it deserves.”

“I don’t really know what my heart is capable of,” you replied. “My brain does the hurting but my heart… I don’t know what it does. I don’t know how it works.”

It left him speechless then and somehow, you were glad that he just held you tighter, only because it was the only way you wanted to be comforted at that moment. But you also knew that whatever your heart ended up doing or experiencing, Jimin and Soomin would be there to help you make sense of it, to pick up the pieces should they need to.

“It seems as though your birthday rejuvenated you, ___,” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. “You look much lighter and relaxed.”

“Only because I haven’t checked my emails nor taken new instructions from you,” you laugh as you serve the fried rice in bowls then head towards him. You fix his suit again and speak casually like you’ve gotten used to. “Once I open that iPad and see what I have to deal with, relaxed would be the last thing I’ll be.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “Let me savor this then.”

His words catch you off guard and they prompt you to meet his eyes - soft yet piercing, then he turns shy and turns away from you. Perhaps he’s surprised at what he’d said, too.

“Work is stressful and your calmness rubs off on me most times,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve got a busy few days ahead and I want that calmness to linger.”

“It will,” you assure him. “And yes, I feel rejuvenated, and that’ll probably last me for days so that will linger, even if I’m stressed, so don't worry. You’re gonna do well. I don’t doubt it one bit.”

Jungkook’s meeting the Culture Minister next week to present the Arts Center’s plans and activities leading to its opening to the public, which is why you think he needs that calmness as well. The team has been helping him with the preparations and while you felt bad that you didn’t get to contribute as much, he assured you that all the notes you left him have been instrumental.

But still, his words affect you. Is this calm and relaxed version of you all he wants to savor? Does it mean anything more?

The thoughts wander away as you have breakfast with him, and he asks if you wish to talk about work later on but you insist that you’re mentally ready for it all. He’s the one who gives you updates this time, and just like that, you’re back to your usual routine.

You glance at his plate, all clean right after because even this dish, he savors. And you realize that doing things for him, no matter how simple, makes you happy, too, especially when his lips turn up in a small smile and he nods in satisfaction.

“Good, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“It’s infinitely better than mine,” he hums.

“So, it’s really, really, really good then?”

“You don’t even know how mine tastes like.”

“True. But Taehyung said once that yours was really delicious and I’ll take his word for it. Seokjin agreed and I believe them.”

“Wow, really? That’s a rare moment where they praise me,” Jungkook laughs.

“You should savor that, too.”

“I should. Heavens know the last time that happened. And when it’ll happen again.”

“That’s kind of hard though, isn’t it?” You say, being a bit reflective as you go back to your daily routine after a trip that you wholly enjoyed. “Savoring things… capturing them, appreciating them. Like, you have to be in the moment, you have to be present, and that’s not easy to do.”

“It isn’t,” he responds after a while. “You have to care enough for something to be worth savoring, I guess.”

“Exactly. But how do you do that when everything is temporary - things, feelings… people. Not all of them are meant to stay,” you reply, meeting his eyes as they seem to be in deep thought.

“Maybe they will… if you ask them to,” he softly says.

“That depends.”

“On what?” He asks.

“If they have a reason to,” you shrug.

Your faraway eyes tell him that you’re in deep thought, perhaps processing the exchange that even Jungkook can’t fully wrap his head around. But you turn to him not long after, smiling as you take the plates to clean up, as if you’d just snapped out of a trance, of a moment of honesty.

He watches you from his seat. There’s an aura about you that truly feels more relaxed, yet there seems to be an added layer of pensiveness, of deep thinking that could easily be mistaken for savoring the moment when you might be questioning it, perhaps wondering if it’s real… or worth caring about in the first place.

Even until now, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him hanging on to every word you say, like it’s some secret message or code to learning who you are and what your fears and pains and hopes and dreams might be.

In the past months, his moments with you have allowed him a peek inside - there’s this yearning for something that you’re not ready for; there’s this knowledge of the fleeting nature of the world that you want to capture as memories because that’s the only way you can make them stay; there’s this desire for companionship that terrifies you more than anything.

But then again, as he sees that soft courage in your eyes, maybe he knows why - he has the same fears as you, and perhaps that’s terrifying, too, as he realizes that much of what he’s scared of is tangible.

He fears the emptiness left in your absence and the silence surrounding him when you’re gone. His trip over the holidays made him think so; this past week when you were away solidified it. There’s a lot of you to miss. He’s unsure how to deal with these thoughts and feelings; he doesn’t know how to move forward and be professional when you affect him this way. All he can hope for is that you’ll always find a reason to stay close to him, that you’ll always find a reason to want him around, and that every moment you share is something worth it enough for you to savor but that you both never have to let go.

You think about the conversation with Jungkook later that night on your way home. There’s something about the impermanence of the world that’s always scared you; things break and wither away all the time and you fear the loss in their absence. Perhaps it’s because you’ve experienced various types of losses throughout your years of living.

You lost that childhood innocence the first time you saw your mother cry, then when her smile that finally returned was wiped off, and then when her hopeful eyes became filled with tears out of fear. You lost that comfort of a routine when you left Seoul at 10 years old, and then that stability when you said goodbye to your life in Busan. You lost that security when you decided to come back here with a dream tucked away, burdened with a debt and a past that you couldn’t escape. You lost that feeling of freedom when your favorite library closed, and then of safety during that night at the restaurant when you were hurt and exposed.

It’s hard to savor things when you know you’ll lose them one day. But that’s also precisely why you should, as what these past months have been showing you, you think now. The absence reminds you that something good was in its place, and that at one point in time, it made you hope that you deserved it, that you were worthy of having it.

But as you lay in bed that night and think of how much of Jungkook you thought about while you were away, you start to think that maybe things aren’t as temporary as you once believed. He was in the icy streets that you walked on and the warmth of the hot chocolate drink you had. He was in the drizzle on the playground that you wiped off and the touch of the leather notebook you saw at one of the shops.

And perhaps that was the difference - you didn’t just stand by; somehow it felt like you connected with them - they were tangible, within your grasp, and that made them linger, that made them feel real. In your mind, that’s where they stayed.

The tail-end of winter marks the time when you’ve settled in the new year. All your backlog from the holidays and your short birthday break have been worked on. Operational plans and goals for the year have been finalized. The Board report and meeting are over and major events have been scheduled. Things are picking up now as the Arts Center is near its completion, with the consequent promotions and marketing on full speed. That last bit has been contracted to a subsidiary company but Jungkook is still on top of most things, which means that so are you.

You accompany him to meetings with different departments regularly, and that’s on top of monitoring the other small projects that the VP office is working on, which is also on top of supporting Jungkook’s executive functions. In a blink of an eye, you’re back to the hustle and bustle nature of your job, and you’re reminded of why it’s been so hard to get out of it, and also why you can’t wait to do so.

There’s just so much going on all at once, and given how you are, you give all of yourself to it because it’s the only way to get things done; it’s the only way to get through it without feeling like you’re taking for granted all that you’ve been given and achieved. But it also means you’ve lost the sense of meaning of most other things, and you wanna be able to do something that means something to you, something of good memories, of beautiful things that are tangible that you can touch and feel.

You let go of the thoughts when Do-hyun and Yohan pop in your area to say goodbye. It’s another long night for everyone and you’re glad that they finally listened to you and decided to go home. You say that you still have a couple of things to work on when they insist that they walk you to the bus stop, telling them once more that you’ll be fine.

“It’s forecasted to rain soon,” Do-hyun informs you.

“I’ll get a cab, don’t worry,” you assure them. “Finance needs these files first thing tomorrow morning and we’ve got that ocular at 8. Thank you though.”

“Fine, but let us know when you’re home, okay?” She says.

“I will. Get home safely, you two.”

You get back to work, and with the peace and quiet in the office with you being the last one here, you manage to finish what you need to in an hour and then finally call it a night. You head out and sigh to yourself once you see the lightning strike, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the rain will begin to pour. You manage to bring out your umbrella by the time it does, then turn at the corner to look for a cab so you can avoid those who’ll be hailing from the main road.

There are a few people who have the same idea as you, and it’s after some time before you spot one, with the driver slowing down once he sees you. But right as you start speed walking towards it, some man decides to get ahead, running past you and bumping you in the process, causing you to lose your balance. The wet pavement doesn’t help, as you slip on your foot and fall to the ground. You try to get up but jerk in pain when you do, realizing that you’d hurt your ankle, a foreign feeling that has you immediately worrying.

After all the times you’d found yourself under the rain, this is the worst moment of all - you’re hurting, all alone, and completely worn out. You’ve had a really long day and you don’t have the energy for this; all you want is to go home and have some rest. But you know there’s no other way, so you shift on your bum, manage to get up and strain your arms in the process, then you limp to the nearest post you can find using your umbrella as a walking stick then stand on one foot.

The rain has weakened a little, so you’re at least not getting even more wet, but it’s still winter and you’ve started to freeze. There are no other cabs in sight and all ride-hailing apps have been such a pain to book. Knowing that it’ll be tough to get home in any way at this stage and that you won’t be able to manage on your own, you decide to call Mr. Ri. He’s always told you that if you need help for anything, he’s another person that you could call.

It’s half past 8 in the evening. You’re banking on him being on the way home after having dropped Jungkook off at his building after a dinner meeting at 5:30.

“Hey, ___. Is everything alright?” Mr. Ri asks, knowing you rarely call at this hour.

“Not really,” you sigh, the shiver in your voice evident. “Have you dropped Jungkook off?”

“Not yet. But what do you mean, not really? What happened?”

“Are you driving?”

“No. I’m still waiting for him to finish. Tell me, are you in danger?” He presses, and you hear the worry in his voice.

You told him about Chi-won some weeks after it happened, and Mr. Ri, having known you for many years, knows you’re not one to usually reach out. He’s made it a point to check on you regularly, and calls like this would definitely ring some alarm bells.

“I’m not in danger but I hurt myself,” you say, quickly appeasing him that it’s probably just a sprained ankle and not that serious. “I just can’t get any ride and I can barely walk. I was hoping you were on the way home.”

“I’m not but I’ll go get you, okay? I’ll tell Jungkook and we’ll drive to you right away.”

“Mr. Ri, he’s in a meeting!”

“That’s most likely over and now they’re just chatting over drinks,” he reasons. “I’ll get him. You know he’ll want me to.”

“You don’t know that,” you stammer.

“You weren’t there with him the days after what happened that night at the restaurant, ___,” he huffs. “I just knew it was really bad because of how worried he was, and he’s never been that way. So yes, I know he’ll want me to get his ass out of there and be on the way to you. Plus, I’m sure he’ll fire me if I don’t.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Just don’t make it sound so bad because it really isn’t.”

“You know I can’t control how that kid reacts,” he hums. “Just send me your location.”

Mr. Ri heads out of the driver’s lounge and rushes to the restaurant where he manages to send a message to Jungkook that you’re stranded somewhere with possibly a sprained ankle. He says it as it is, knowing that Jungkook won’t need much to decide on ending the meeting and go to you, which he does right away.

“What happened?” He asks the older man as they both walk towards the basement parking.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask any more questions,” Mr. Ri responds. “She’s somewhere near the office. We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Try for 15,” Jungkook instructs.

He calls you right after and he immediately picks up on your chattering teeth.

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?”

You’re a little surprised when Jungkook calls this soon, and with how you’re trying to move past whatever attraction you have towards the man, this really isn’t helping.

“Just… cold. My umbrella flew away,” you laugh. “The wind’s picked up and I think it’s gonna rain again.”

Just as you say so, it starts, and you pick up on the change in Jungkook’s voice. You’ve since learned that he’s not fond of it, always closing his eyes and trying to tune everything out with even just a drizzle. But he continues talking and asks what happened, trying to keep you company. You narrate the incident and attempt to play it off as something minor, although the longer you stay leaning against the post, the more pain you’re starting to feel.

“We’re five minutes away. We’ll be there soon,” he assures you then drops the call.

Jungkook clenches his fist and closes his eyes as the rain continues to pour. With the sound of the thunder, he jerks in his seat like he always does, but he pushes forward, knowing you need his help. He takes deep breaths just as he’s learned to do, and not long after, Mr. Ri informs him that he sees you just meters away.

The car slows down and Jungkook looks outside the window. He can see you leaning against a pole on one foot, drenched and shivering, your eyes closed as you wait for them to arrive. He meets Mr. Ri’s eyes in the rear view mirror as they halt, and with the rain just barely stopping, the older man nods and exits the car.

Jungkook watches from inside as Mr. Ri runs to you. He sees the smile on your face despite the droplets on the window. The older man takes your bag then helps you walk, leading you to the car where Jungkook manages to push the door open.

You slowly enter with as much energy you can muster, wincing in pain when you have to adjust your foot inside. You sigh in relief as you feel the warmth and dryness of the car, prompting you to apologize for getting it all wet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook shakes his head. “We’ll take you to the hospital, okay? And I won’t accept no for an answer.”

You nod in agreement, knowing that much as you’re causing him inconvenience right now, you’re too tired to argue. You lean your head by the window and try to catch your breath.

“Have you had dinner? He asks.

“Not yet. I was supposed to grab it on the way home.”

“We’ll pass by somewhere after the hospital.”

“Okay,” you look at him and smile.

Jungkook isn’t surprised when you don’t counter him. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, as he sees it in how your smile isn’t as bright as what he’s used to, with it fading as you turn away. You’re still shivering though, despite the car heater being turned up. He doesn’t have a towel to dry you up, though, so he instead removes his coat and instructs you to lean forward so he can place it over your shoulders to warm your back. He takes his puffer jacket from the front seat and puts it over your lap right after, giving you warmth there, too.

“Is that better?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mouth. “Thank you.”

His scent wafts through your senses, allowing you to breathe and feel all of him at once. It’s the closest thing to tangible comfort you’ve gotten from him, and you hate how good it feels.

You’re just about to fall asleep when the car comes to a stop. The rain has subsided and perhaps that’s why soon after, you hear Jungkook open his door and then your door, too. He removes his coat over your back, placing it back inside, then he holds onto your forearms to help you climb out. He takes his jacket and instructs you to wear it, giggling at how you’re being swallowed in it.

“I look ridiculous,” you pout as you sit on the wheelchair that he’s asked the nurse to get.

“Just a little,” he teases.

He walks next to you as you’re wheeled inside the hospital, staying close by when you explain to the ER doctor what happened. She assesses your foot and lower leg, diagnosing you with a sprained ankle like you expected, and proceeds to wrap it in elastic bandage.

She treats the minor scratches on your palms you got from the fall then writes you a prescription for painkillers. Jungkook takes it so he can buy them for you after, then he helps you settle the bill with your insurance.

You’re quite uncomfortable - you’re still a little wet and the bandage feels foreign around your foot. But you’re also feeling a bit shy, now that Jungkook is the one pushing the wheelchair towards the pharmacy nearby. He parks you at the side while he buys the medicine, and as you look on, you can’t help the relief mixed with giddiness that you feel despite the pain that’s close to overtaking you.

He stands by the counter with his white dress shirt slightly untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands are in his pockets while he waits for the pharmacist to return, and amidst everything that’s going on, you’re still able to admire how overwhelmingly handsome he looks, especially given what he’s doing right now for you. His side view is quite blinding, so you’re slightly embarrassed when he turns around and calls your name again after you missed it the first few times.

“Dazed and tired?” He asks as he walks back to you with a pack of medicines.

“Definitely,” you say, which isn’t a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. “I just want to eat and have a nice bath and then sleep.”

“And you’ll do all that soon,” he assures you. “We’ll pass by whatever’s open on the way to your place. Just make sure you don’t have the hot water on, okay? And then elevate your foot when you sleep.”

“Yes, I heard everything she said,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Including the full-on rest that’s required of you for the next few days?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because that’s what you’re gonna have. You’re on leave until you’re able to walk properly again, Ms. Cho.”

“So now you’re being formal,” you tease, flashing him a playful smile. “But yes, Mr. Jeon. The instructions are understood.”

“Good,” he laughs softly. “Glad you’re not being stubborn about it.”

“Oh, not with this one, not when I’m this tired and in this much pain.”

His look turns sullen at the admission of what you’re feeling and you wish he didn’t feel this bad. But you can’t deny the way it’s giving you butterflies, prompting you to scold yourself internally because learning how caring he is isn’t exactly what you need to get over a crush. This is definitely the worst part about being injured, you decide.

You make it out of the hospital and he helps you again as you enter the car, sliding in next to you as he ensures that you’re warm.

You pass by a noodle house on the way, and he buys you some more food for the next day despite your insistence that he didn’t have to. But you’re too tired to argue some more, and you doze off a little during the drive to your apartment, with your half-awake self mumbling your apology about taking up his time.

Jungkook playfully shakes his head. Knowing you’re probably shallow sleep-talking, he disregards your words. He just gets glimpses of you, comforted to know that you’re at least getting the most rest you can have, given your current state. The painkillers will kick in soon and that’ll help you sleep better, but right now, he wishes he could do more for you.

In the deepest crevices of his heart, he wants to hold your still shivering hands and maybe hug your trembling body. He wants to stay with you until you’re warm and comfortable in your bed, perhaps assure you in whatever way that you’re not alone, that there’s help whenever you need it. He can’t imagine how it would’ve been like for you being under the rain, cold and hurt with no one around.

On second thought, he can, and that’s the thing about it. Even if you get out of it with just a sprained ankle - considering how much worse it could’ve been - it’s still terrifying being alone and powerless, paralyzed on the spot and not knowing if anyone will show up. He wants nothing more than for you to get over that and be able to move past it because he knows how haunting it could be; he knows how restraining such memories are.

But he also knows that there’s not much he could do - not with the unnamed feelings he can’t express, and not with the line he still believes he shouldn’t cross.

So he settles for glances and soft smiles at your fluttering eyes and slightly parted mouth. You look tired but peaceful; he thinks it’s quite endearing. It also feels intrusive so he looks away, out into the streets that he’s able to somehow see now. He thinks about the timing of it all - your late night and his dinner out, your injury and the bad weather. He’s thankful that the rain subsided and that allowed him to help you as much as he was able to, and that he got to you in the first place.

You arrive at your apartment with you now fully awake, and Jungkook heads to your side right away. Pulling you out of the car requires more strength from him, and despite your terrible condition, the butterflies appear once more when he instructs you to hold onto him for support. You have to act unaffected when you feel his broad shoulders and taut arms, with your hands gingerly laying on them; you wonder if he feels anything, too, under the thin material of his dress shirt.

His left hand only grazes your waist but his hold tightens after you grant him permission, perhaps knowing that it would be harder for you if he holds you that loose, he asked you to put your weight on him after all. Despite your agreement, you still hold in your breath, a silly attempt at slowing down your quickening heartbeat. He’s never been this close, and you’re unsure if you want him to be anywhere else.

You suspend your thoughts for the shortest of seconds until you both manage to get up the few steps to your door. Mr. Ri helps in unlocking it, and you settle on the dining chair that Jungkook pulls out for you after you both enter.

As you release a breath and watch him look around, it’s then you realize that your boss - the Jeon Corporation Vice President who lives in a penthouse in an exclusive district in Seoul - is in your tiny studio apartment that’s literally just the size of his bedroom. You’re not ashamed one bit but you are a little shy, so you jokingly welcome him to your “little mansion.”

“It’s nice,” he hums, looking around some more, which he doesn’t need to move to do.

The small round dining table, the off-the-wall kitchen, and the three-seater couch are all in the open living space. There’s a half-wall that separates your sleeping area, with your double bed against it and the tiniest of balconies just off of it.

You’re quite proud of what you’ve made of the place, with the plants in the corners, some chic art pieces on the walls, and photos with your friends and family on stick-on frames resting on the shelves. It’s cozy and comfortable for you, and you feel quite proud when Jungkook’s lips turn up when you respond that you’re happy here when he asks.

“It’s everything I need,” you hum. “And it’s in a safe part of town. My neighbors are older couples who are all kind.”

“That’s good,” he says, turning to you. “Will they be much help to you while you recover?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “I have a crutch. I’ve got food to heat up, and my place is so small that I don’t have to move around to get things done. I don’t really need help, you know?”

He scrunches his eyebrows, seemingly unconvinced.

“Watch,” you say, your shallow confidence pushing you to grab the crutch next to you then using it to walk towards him so you could prove that you’re capable enough to look after yourself.

But your unfamiliarity with it leads you to mistime your step. Before you know it, you’re tripping on your foot and losing your balance, and as your life is about to flash before your eyes thinking that you’re gonna fall once again and make your injury worse, Jungkook’s reflex kicks in and he steps forward to catch you. You feel his grip on your waist gradually tighten as if to keep you steady, as if to make sure you’re alright. He’s so close, you can feel his breath as he pants, the worried look on his face something you’re familiar with by now. But he stays there, inches away, and so do you.

He’s bending, so he stays leveled with you. You can see his long eyelashes resting on his honeyed skin and the endearing curve of his nose. He looks so soft like this, comfortable even, with his big round eyes looking like the most innocent ones you’ve ever seen.

The voice in your head suddenly becomes loud enough and you break his gaze, realizing then that you’re also clutching onto his shoulder for support. You give him a look of apology but he just laughs, something you’re thankful for because the last thing you want is for the tension to thicken.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? You think it’s that easy?” He shakes his head, his tone sounding like he’s both teasing and reprimanding you.

“It seemed like it,” you shrug, allowing him to help you back on the seat, disregarding the slightest bit of giddiness you feel as he has one hand on your free arm while the other ghosts over your waist in case you fall again.

“It’s not. And I know this because I’ve used this before,” he says. “So since you’ll be by yourself, we have to make sure you can at least use the crutch without falling, okay?”

“Fine,” you concede, listening to his instructions carefully then trying to do it on your own.

It takes some getting used to, but after a few tries, you manage to at least walk without tripping. You plan on just staying in bed or on the couch tomorrow anyway so you’re not that worried. Even if Jungkook still seems to be.

“I’m okay,” you insist. “I’m gonna survive. But you should head home. It’s getting late and you have that ocular in the morning. I’ll just have to email Chin-sun about accompanying you and—”

“None of that,” he interjects. “I’ll be the one to tell her and I don’t want you worrying about work tomorrow, okay? You’re gonna take your medicine and just rest.”

“You’re demanding, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Only when I’m dealing with someone as stubborn as you,” he counters.

You just laugh at him answering back, enjoying your banter more than you should, then he says that he’ll go ahead, for as long as you’re sure you can manage. It takes another five minutes until he makes it out the door. But before he disappears, you call his name, your heart skipping a beat when he turns around, as if he’s just hanging onto your every word.

“Thank you,” you say. “I know it was a long day and it was raining but… you still came for me.”

“Just recover quickly, okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.”

You nod and he leaves. And just like that, you’re once again on your own - damp, injured, and extremely tired. Jungkook’s presence remains in your apartment though, and there he is again, making you smile and making you feel things you shouldn’t.

You don’t mind being alone. In fact, you enjoy it. But during the times when you don’t want to be, he just happens to be there. And being the stubborn woman that you are, deep down, you like it that he is, that in your own little world with the walls up so high, he’s become a frequent visitor. You’re just not sure if you want him to stay just yet.

You wake up the next morning feeling faint and sore, and it’s probably the painkillers having lost their effect. And there’s a reason why, seeing that it’s close to midday when you finally get out of bed. You manage to stand and walk to the kitchen with no issues, and you take your medication and heat up the food that Jungkook bought for you last night. It’s when you’re seated that he calls, bringing that smile to your otherwise uneventful day.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Just fine. I took my medicines for the day and I’m about to eat lunch,” you reply. “And you? How was the ocular?”

“It was good. It has a lot of potential so I’ll run down the details with the teams and propose it. But speaking of sites, remember what I said about Hoseok and I thinking of a Scandinavian-inspired mid-rise in the mountains?”

“Yeah, the one you came up with during your trip. Are you gonna push through with it soon?”

“Perhaps. I’ve gotten emails of proposed sites for some other projects but I’ve seen a few that could work with this idea,” he shares. “There’s one in Gangwon that’s near the town center so it would be practical for many. There’s even— ah, why am I saying this to you now? You’re off the clock.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. Jungkook doesn’t always show this much excitement with the projects he has to manage so when he does, you encourage him. It’s also an excuse to hear more of his voice. “My mind’s not prepared for being home today anyway so I’m a little disoriented. But that’s good. I can look into the sites and we can do an ocular whenever you prefer.”

“Alright, that’s something to schedule for next month. But uh, you sure you’re fine? Does your ankle still hurt? Did you get proper sleep?”

“Well, I slept like a baby,” you giggle. “And I at least remained in one position. It still hurts a bit but it should be okay in the next few days. I’m just gonna have to replace the bandage tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Just make sure to ice it and keep it elevated.”

“Yes, boss,” you tease, earning you a groan. “But uh, thank you for checking up on me. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

He’s silent, and you suppose it’s him again not knowing how to respond to gratitude, so you follow it up by saying that you’ll eat your meal now and reminding him of his meeting at 2PM.

“You better not be checking your emails and my calendar right now,” he warns.

“I’m not. I just memorize your schedule,” you defend.

“Okay then, I’ll go ahead.”

Jungkook drops the call and sinking in his seat, he sighs in relief. He managed to get through that conversation without sounding extremely worried, which is what he’s been since last night. His busy day today actually includes constantly worrying about how you’re doing, but he supposes it’s too much to let you know. Sure it’s just a sprained ankle, but knowing how you tend to move about, anything can happen. You were all alone for some time last night, too, just waiting for a way to get home. And that’s another thing he worries about - that fear latching onto you, that helplessness weighing you down.

He asks Mr. Ri if he’s heard from you, thinking that you’d probably be more honest with him, but the older man says you told him the same thing.

“Don’t you believe her?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“I do, but she’s quite stubborn though,” Jungkook laments.

“Well, I’ve known her for a while and she tends to just deal with things on her own,” Mr. Ri says.

“But she shouldn’t. She’s injured.”

“I think it’s natural for people who’ve been alone for many years to be that way,” the older man shrugs. “I mean, you’re the same.”

Jungkook doesn’t disagree. And if you’re truly anything like him, then you’d just push through the pain and force it to stop hurting so you can go back to your normal busy life because doing so keeps you from thinking of how lonely it feels when you’re sick or hurt and there’s no one around. It’s how he’s always been, too, he admits to himself.

The thought disturbs him, which is why he messages you three more times during the day and then again the next morning, asking if he could drop by. He’s expecting you to insist that you’re fine and he doesn’t need to, so it surprises him when you say that he could.

You’re pacing back and forth in your mind since you’re unable to physically do so, but the thought of Jungkook visiting you this Saturday morning is a lot for you to handle, even if you did say it was alright for him to come. The truth is, you wanted him to, only because selfishly, seeing someone be that worried about you gives you some form of comfort.

You called your family yesterday and told them about the injury, which they obviously panicked about. Your mom asked if you needed her to come to you but like always, you said she didn’t need to. You told Yoongi about it, too, and he was worried as well, in the classic way that he often is; he had food delivered to you for dinner last night so you didn’t have to think about it. You only told your best friends about it this morning and they were furious you waited so long to let them know; they were packing their stuff right as you were speaking to them two hours ago.

You know you have people to depend on and would be at your doorstep anytime you ask. These are the same people who’ve done that for years and you fully accept their care and attention; it’s become a part of you and your healing process. But when someone like Jungkook who, for whatever reason he has, shows you the same, it feels different; he goes out of his way to show it to you, and he’s not even someone who normally does it. It’s a new kind of comfort, one that you find yourself seeking. So when he called earlier and asked if he could drop by, there was an internal sigh of relief.

Over half an hour later, your doorbell rings, and you limp your way towards the door to open it.

Other than being in suits, you’ve only ever seen Jungkook in his gym clothes - half naked as well - and in night out wear. You realize that this is the first time you’re seeing him in a casual outfit, and with a jacket over a sweatshirt and a brown beanie, he looks different - there’s that boyish charm that you’ve never seen; he looks softer, kinder, still reserved but a lot more comfortable.

You let him in after your greetings, then you turn to him and smile.

“It’s really the suit, I know it now,” you tease. “It’s what makes you look intimidating.”

He looks at his attire then frowns at you. “So how do I look now?”

“Not intimidating.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “Whereas you…” He eyes you in gray leggings and a blush jumper, looking soft and comfortable and even more like the bright spot he’s realized you are, but he’d never tell you that. “You look injured.”

“Gee, what a surprise. I feel injured, too,” you laugh. “But uhm, it’s nice of you to visit my humble mansion once again.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better,” he hums. “And bring some more food so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You eye the beef brisket with rice and say that you know what you’ll be having for lunch. He responds that he might just go back to the restaurant and meet his best friends there, too. You return to your seat on the couch, realizing there’s not much room for him to sit on, but he gets to you first, standing in front of you and eyeing the elastic bandage on the table.

“Aren’t you due for a redress?” He asks.

“Yes but uh, I can’t actually reach my foot,” you say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m not really flexible so I’ll just wait until Soomin and Jimin arrive.”

“I can do it,” he offers, thinking that the bandage isn’t serving its purpose if it remains loose. “I mean, I’ve dressed myself on my own before so I’m familiar with it.”

It’s probably the painkillers but something possesses you and you agree, your mind too out of it to take the words back. A part of you wishes you had, especially when your heart does a thing when he kneels on the floor and slowly takes your injured foot. You wiggle your toes in reflex, as if they’re shy, too, and Jungkook laughs at your silly antics, especially when you admit that you’re a little ticklish.

But he softly looks at you right after and asks if he’s hurting you, and you shake your head, unable to say anything else and process that you really allowed this man - your boss and in-denial crush - to do this.

You sit there, charmed by the way he looks determined to get this done. He removes the old bandage and wipes your ankle before wrapping it with a new one. His hands are large and quite rough but he’s very gentle, making sure to not lift your foot too high and that the bandage isn’t wrapped too tightly. Once he’s finished, he lays it on the table and looks up at you to ask if it feels okay.

“Yes,” you shyly smile. “Thank you. That was, uh, that was really nice of you.”

He nods and stands up to throw the trash in the bin, wanting to quickly hide his smile at how wholesome you looked in thanking him.

He proceeds to look around, taking more of your home in. There’s something very calming about it, and it’s more than just the plants that you have and the right amount of sunlight coming from the balcony door and kitchen window. There’s also something familiar, as he looks through your shelf of photos, seeing your mom and her partner for the first time. She looks a lot like you. She has a nice smile like yours, and she sees that same joy on her face as he’d seen on you, as she hugs you tightly in one of the pictures.

The familiarity is similar to when he first had a whiff of your scent - old rose like the one his mother used to wear, one he remembers as a child when he still clung to her. There are those memories that stick with him. Others he doesn’t have anymore but that’s good, he supposes. Seeing your shelf, he sees all the good and tangible things you hold dear.

“The photo on the far right, the one with Soomin and Jimin. We took that during my birthday trip using your gift,” you tell him. “It came out really nicely.”

“It did. Did you finish the film? What else did you take photos of?”

“We used it all up,” you smile. “And just a lot of the scenery and the three of us. We all divided them so we could have copies and just remember how fun that week was.”

“Good, that’s what I hoped.”

Jungkook stands there, his jacket now off so his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are in his pockets as he looks through your shelf. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing, if any of this makes him curious. It’s as if he’s taking in all the small parts of who you are that he can see displayed before him. He turns to you and your eyes meet again, and for a moment, it feels like you’re really seeing him and he’s really seeing you, like there’s something only both of you share and understand and want and can give.

But the doorbell ringing disrupts it, with you wondering who it could be since your best friends won’t arrive until an hour from now. Jungkook walks to the door and opens it, surprised to see Yoongi who’s just as surprised to see his friend in your apartment.

“Hey, you’re back. And… here,” you smile, attempting to stand up but Yoongi tells you to stay put.

“I flew home last night and thought I’d visit and get you some food, but it seems like I’m second in line,” he says, his smug face causing you to glare at him.

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Jungkook defends. “I won’t stay long.”

“Of course you do. And I won’t stay long either. I don’t wanna disturb anything.”

He smirks at his friend, prompting Jungkook to glare at him as well.

“Yah, chill, you two. I’m really just passing by,” Yoongi reiterates, making his way now to sit on the arm of your sofa. “Just wanted to check on ___ and make sure she’s well-fed.”

“I’m injured, not starving, okay?” You groan. “But thanks. What have you got there?”

“Noodles, custard buns, and some tarts. Wasn’t sure what you’re into when you’re incapacitated,” Yoongi shrugs.

“I’m very much mobile,” you correct him. “Just… slow and limping.”

Jungkook pulls your dining chair and sits in front of you, and the three of you talk as if this isn’t weird at all. You’re all colleagues - you and Jungkook consider Yoongi as your friend, but you don’t know if you should consider your boss as such, and you don’t know if he considers you the same. You’ve definitely experienced a lot of things that could qualify what you have as friendship, but even then, there’s something more about it, something a little more intimate, different, terrifying.

You brave through this dynamic and learn that Yoongi likes to tell Jungkook off a lot. It’s the kind of bluntness you expect from Yoongi’s no-nonsense attitude but it’s refreshing to see him be more straightforward towards someone like Jungkook who you’re used to seeing as commanding and serious. Jungkook takes the hits, seemingly unbothered as they bicker, and it’s another side of him you enjoy seeing - the smiles and laughter are natural, and there’s this comfort about him that you suddenly want more of.

The time passes quickly, with the doorbell ringing again signaling that your friends have arrived. Yoongi gets up first to open the door, greeting them who do the same. You manage to stand up with Jungkook telling you to be careful, and when it dawns on them who else is in your apartment, Jimin’s face turns sour and Soomin’s goes from confused to amused.

Jungkook looks taken aback by the cold welcome, but he manages to introduce himself to them.

“Oh, we know,” Jimin says dryly. “You’re the one who gives her so much work that she had to do overtime again and that’s why she got hurt.”

You feel the tension come like a strong wave and you try to lower the level a little bit.

“He also brought me to the hospital and got me some food,” you tell Jimin, whose bitterness isn’t unfounded. He did listen to you complain about this very man all those months ago. “He’s just checking up on me, making sure I’m alright, the way you guys are.”

“As we should,” Jimin huffs. “At least we don’t cause you any injury or pain.”

“You don’t. But you do make things better so could you do that, please?” You say, opening your arms for a hug, something to appease him before it gets even more tense.

Jimin has the sweetest smile but wouldn’t be afraid to burn anyone down with his looks if they deserve it. Jungkook did at one point, but you obviously feel very differently about that now. But still, you glance at the man, hoping this encounter isn’t putting him off too much, and with the slight tinge of guilt in his eyes, you suppose it hasn’t.

Jungkook turns away, partly because a reminder of how he’d treated you before makes him regret even more how you both started, and partly because seeing you affectionate with any man - even if it’s your best friend - makes him a tiny bit jealous, only because it’s something he can’t be with you. Seeing you that way with Hajoon months ago was different; Jungkook had been more shocked than anything. But this time, given that his attraction towards you seems to grow every second, and that he’s been wanting nothing more than to comfort you, there’s more of that feeling of loss, of hope that it could be him one day, even if that’s something that’ll probably never happen.

“I know you dislike him but tone it down for now, okay?” You whisper to Jimin. “My place is too small to contain all this tension.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing him just reminds me of what you had to go through because of him,” he says before pulling away. “But he did help. And well, Soo and I are still upset that you didn’t tell us sooner. You know we would’ve driven here on Thursday night.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why. You both had something big going on and I could wait,” you reply, a reason you give them everytime.

Wanting a short breather from all this, you excuse yourself and ask Soomin to help you with something in the bathroom, and she heads there right away.

“Can you make sure that those two don’t murder each other?” You whisper to Yoongi as you gesture towards Jimin and Jungkook.

“It would be entertaining if they did, but yes, I’ll try,” he chuckles.

You walk to where Soomin is and after closing the door, she looks at you with the same amusement that she’s had since she arrived.

“What in the romance drama is this!” She exclaims, lowering her voice when you scold at her to keep it down. “All your three men coming to your home to make sure you’re okay? Talk about making an impression.”

“They aren’t my men, okay!” You scowl at her. “They all just happened to have the same thought. And no, Jimin doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” Soomin laughs. “It’s just… I know you’re hurt and that you’ll be okay but it’s just amusing to see them show up for you like this. Especially the big boss. He’s way hotter up close, I can tell you that.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you frown. “I wish there was a potion I could take to make him look unattractive to me so that I’d stop being so giddy at everything he does. And fuck, Soo, I haven’t been like this in ages. Or ever.”

“Well, you haven’t been this accepting of someone’s attention, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, and I’m being silly. I might just be putting myself up for disappointment here,” you groan. “I mean, I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know what I’m not supposed to feel. And he’s not making it any easier.”

“Your situation isn’t easy in the first place, hun. And there are many reasons why,” she sighs, wishing there was a way to uncomplicate this very complicated relationship you have with Jungkook. “But whatever it is you think you shouldn’t feel, think about what he may be feeling, too. He wouldn’t be making all this effort since Thursday night for this to just be nothing.”

“I wish none of that means anything. That’s probably gonna be easier, right? That he doesn’t feel anything remotely close to what I do? That’s probably better than dealing with all the complications.”

“Maybe, but we don’t really know,” Soomin says, pulling you in for a hug. “But also think about how new and different this feels. It might be worth it in the long run.”

You fall into her embrace, knowing that during the toughest times of your life, this was your saving grace. It’s no different when you’re confused and in need of guidance, and though you’ve always made decisions for yourself with knowledge of the consequences, Soomin was there to back you up during the times when you were going in somewhat blindly. She wants you to be happy, and you won’t really know if continuing to feel what you do about Jungkook will make you so. If all else fails, well, you could always go back home, or maybe return to Busan and start a life there. Jungkook will just be a memory; you hope to the heavens it’ll be a good one.

You shake away the thoughts and finally go back out and are relieved to find some peace. Jimin’s washing your dishes while talking to Yoongi who wipes them dry. Jungkook sits on your sofa, looking around quietly, but he stands when he sees you approach him.

“I’ll go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the door. “I… I think you’ve got everything you need.”

“Let me walk you there,” you smile.

He’s outside the door when you thank him again then apologize if Jimin made him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. I’d be protective of my best friend, too, if I learned how their boss treated them,” he responds.

“I, uh… those were hard times and I may have complained quite a bit about you,” you pout. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure I deserved it,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky you have them. I mean, my best friends tease me a lot and say shit about me to my face and behind my back.”

“Oh come on, Seokjin and Taehyung love you,” you laugh. “I’ve seen it, but you all also said you’re like that to each other; it’s how you guys grew up. I mean, I was the new girl in school and Jimin and Soomin have been protective since day one, whereas your best friends have shown you tough love since you were kids. They said you never accepted their affection so they switched tactics.”

“That’s fair. I was always shy and then turned into a bitter, introverted child. There was no transition, I guess. Now we’re adults and have just stuck with each other because we’re all we’ve ever known.”

“Well, you make decisions to stand by people, Jungkook. They do with you and you do the same with them. Plus, you’re not that insufferable,” you tease.

“At least you don’t think so. Not anymore, I hope,” he says softly, looking away.

“People deserve second chances. You gave me some and more and I… I’m glad you did. I at least get to see this side of you that’s helped me a lot these past months. I’m thankful. And I hope you know that.”

Jungkook just nods, unable to reply through words again. You let him, knowing it’s his default response. He walks to his car and turns around for a final goodbye, leaving you in anticipation for when you’d be with him again.

“Well, that was a long goodbye,” Yoongi says, surprising you as he stands behind you. “And no, I didn’t hear anything.”

You turn to him with a playful frown. “I was just making sure that Jimin didn’t make him feel too bad. I mean, I know I complained a lot but still. I didn’t want Jungkook to think I cursed his existence or something.”

“You did at one point though,” Yoongi laughs. “But it’s acceptable. Jungkook was rude, and heavens know how much shit I gave him for treating you the way he did.”

“You did, huh?”

“I always told you I’d look out for you, ___. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between us, I was always going to have your back.”

“You’re heaven-sent, Min Yoongi,” you smile. “I wish I could do half as much as you do for me.”

“You do more. I hope you don’t ever doubt the comfort that your presence gives to people. Maybe that’s what it’s done to Jungkook. And I know he hasn’t felt much of that in years.”

It’s Yoongi’s last words before he says goodbye, and they stay in your head for the next few days. Maybe Soomin’s right - all that Jungkook has been doing might mean something, and you hope that finding out what it is will all be worth it.

Jungkook decides to meet with his friends at one of his favorite restaurants for lunch. All he planned on doing today was visit you and he has nothing else going on for the rest of it. The club scene has become boring for him, and going to one only to bring home a woman to hook up with is no longer appealing, not when you invade his mind all the time.

Being welcomed in your home was refreshing. And even if it was awkward, meeting your friends allowed him another peak into your world. You choose the people you allow in, and you don’t choose many of them. The ones you do stay for a long time, and that’s the kind of person you seem to be. You value relationships so much that’s why you don’t have many of them, and with all that you went through and the vulnerability you’ve both shown each other, he’s started to hope that one day, he’d be deserving of that, too.

“So did you feel like a fish out of water being there with her actual friends?” Seokjin asks. “Because I don’t know what you’d consider your relationship with her is. Boss-assistant feels too simplistic at this point. Are you friends? Are you more? Or is that all too ambiguous?”

“I don’t… know,” Jungkook sighs. “We’re all that but we also aren’t. We’ve gone through so much that it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to define what we are. But I feel like I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable and we’ve connected because of that.”

“And what about you? Have you been vulnerable in front of her?” Seokjin asks.

Has he? Jungkook thinks. Maybe that first time he asked for your help with his new role but he supposes it’s nothing compared to what you’ve shown him, intentional or not.

“Not really. I… I don’t let myself be. That’s still distance I need to establish,” Jungkook reasons.

“More like, because you know that if you do show that side of you, you’re scared you’ll find out that she’ll understand, and that having her next to you is what you need to heal whatever parts of you that are still hurting?” Seokjin counters.

“I don’t want to need her, you know that. There’s a boundary I shouldn’t cross. She’s my assistant and—”

“You’ve been treating her like the most important person and it’s not hard to miss,” Taehyung interjects. “You were never like this, not since Chaerin.”

“I don’t even know what it is about ___ that just makes me consider risking things, you know?” Jungkook sighs. “I’m always torn with what our reality is and what we could be but I’m afraid that if we cross that line, we’ll have to make sacrifices. I… I’m finding myself wanting her around all the time. When she leaves, I want her to stay. When she’s not there, I want her to come. But at the same time, I don’t want her too close because I don’t know if I can have her or if I can want her. Because I don’t know what of me I can give that won’t hurt her,” he admits, with a bit of help from some whiskey.

“Maybe if you let yourself be vulnerable, you’d know,” Seokjin advises. “Some people would run and hide but there’s always that one person who wouldn’t. That might just be her. And then you’ll learn what you can give, too.”

Jungkook lets his friends’ words settle and then thinks about them throughout the night that he spends all alone in his penthouse, with another glass of whiskey in his hand as he looks out the balcony. A part of him wants you to run and hide when you see who he really is, what he hides and what he’s ashamed of. Maybe that would be easier, he thinks; maybe that would hurt less.

You return to work the next Tuesday, having gone to the hospital the day before and being cleared to return to your usual routine. Jimin and Soomin stayed with you until that evening, with you rejecting their insistence to stay another day. You can manage, you assure them. You’re able to walk properly now and would just need to do daily exercises, wear the elastic bandage for another week, and forego the heels.

Jungkook’s pleased to know that you’re doing better and makes sure you don’t walk around if you don’t need to, so he’s been the one going to see you when he needs something. He also postponed some potential site visits for the project that he and Hoseok are working on until you’re fully capable, which is why it’s three weeks later when you find yourself in the car with him, on the way to some towns in nearby provinces on an early Friday morning.

Mr. Ri called in sick today and Jungkook didn’t want to deal with a chauffeur he doesn’t know, so he decided to drive instead, thinking it’s more efficient that way. These are all initial checks and being that you’re the only one from his team who’s privy to the details, he wanted you to join him as a sounding board and also to get your own thoughts about what you’ll be seeing. He has a vision in mind and he needs to translate it properly; you’ve been helpful these past months in making sure he’s able to do that.

Disregarding what this time alone with you would do to him, Jungkook meets you in his penthouse, telling himself to focus on only one thing today, and that’s finding the right place for his planned project.

You leave early for a quick stop at a cafe and then head north to some towns in Gyeonggi province. There are some properties and land that are up for sale, and you prepared the information about them beforehand, allowing Jungkook to play around with the timeline and budget in his mind, even drawing rough drafts on his iPad as he assesses them. You’re both in work-mode, discussing each site on the way to the next one, with you searching for more details along the way and him, stopping on the side of the road to add an idea that he comes up with on the spot.

It’s a little chaotic, as his mind goes from one thing to another, but you suppose this is how Jungkook naturally is. You’ve seen him perform his duties in various ways, but this is when you see the most raw side of him, and it’s quite the privilege to see. He always said he preferred the creative aspect of the job, which is why he enjoyed his time in Singapore, handling the design department. You contend that he’s grown tremendously in his executive role. As Hoseok has said, Jungkook relates to his staff better now, and has even engaged and attracted more partners with his great ideas.

You’re quite sentimental going on this trip with him. It wasn’t long ago when you were going to work with anxiety, anticipating his next criticism so you can prepare yourself, and then going home feeling like a failure. So much has happened since then, and you could even say that you’ve found comfort in your daily routines; doing something different like this is now exciting and something you look forward to, especially since it allows you to go outside, see the sights, and breathe the cool air.

“You okay there?” He asks, noticing your silence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking how 10 months ago, this would’ve stressed me out so much.”

“What? Going on a road trip?”

“Pretty much going anywhere with you,” you laugh. “Car rides even with Mr. Ri made me freak out, and I was so scared to make a mistake or make you wait for information that I couldn’t find. And now here we are - I survived the last five hours with you and not once did you groan at me.”

“Wow, I must’ve been a really terrible boss to make your standard for a non-stressful day to be that low,” he laughs before turning serious. “But I… I’m… I’m sorry, for all the stress and anxiety that I caused you. I was being selfish and irrational about it. I hate change and you were the biggest one, even with my new role. I took out all the frustration on you and I shouldn’t have.”

He says more than he expected, but it’s also the apology that he should’ve given—that you deserved —months ago.

“I forgive you,” you say softly, glancing at him before returning your eyes towards the road. “I always knew my limits and I guess I let you push it and that was on me. I could’ve stood up to you, too.”

“You did though, more than once. And that knocked some sense into me.”

“I guess,” you hum. “And then things improved and I’m just glad they did.”

There’s a prolonged silence after, as you both opt to bask in the scenery around you. There’s that understanding and acceptance of how things were and that regardless of what’s going on in your own minds, you at least have this. You think to yourself that this just makes leaving that much harder, but at least this is one more memory you could take with you.

You make it to Hwacheon in Gangwon past noon, and this is where you spend most of your time in, as the sites are spread out around the county. There are areas tucked away in the mountains while there are those closer to town with grand views. It’s in the latter where you grab some lunch and go through some of his plans, and you take in his ideas, learning from him in the process.

It’s late in the afternoon when you inspect the final site, which is in an area in the neighboring Chuncheon county. It’s got potential for another project that CEO Jeon is looking to do, and with your notes completed, you and Jungkook start the trip back home. You would reach the tail-end of the Friday night traffic by the time you return to Seoul, the GPS says, and so both of you savor the sky’s changing colors as it transitions to the evening, letting the soft sounds of the radio replace the silence.

Barely 30 minutes in, the rain starts to pour, and it’s seconds later when it dawns on you what that means, as you hear heavy breathing next to you. You turn to Jungkook whose hands are tightly gripping the wheel, with sweat lining his eyebrows despite the cool temperature.

“Did the forecast say it was gonna rain?” He asks, the mix of panic and frustration evident in his voice.

“Yes, but not until late in the evening,” you say, checking your phone to make sure you got the correct information.

Your heart breaks upon realizing that at midday, the weather station warned that there was going to be a thunderstorm, with rainfall coming in around this time. You inform Jungkook, and despite all the progress in your relationship, your heart breaks a second time when he says that you should’ve constantly checked, that the weather changes all the time and you should’ve been mindful, and that now you’re both gonna be stuck on the road because he’s unable to drive and you don’t know how to. His tone is harsh, accusatory, as if it was something you could control, as if everything was your fault, just like how it was before.

Jungkook stops on the side of the road as the downpour continues, and he leans his head on the steering wheel now as he takes deep breaths. You tell him he could breathe better if he sits straight up, but he ignores you.

A part of you wants to remark how it’s ironic that just earlier, he was apologizing for the way he treated you, and now it’s like you’ve both taken a few steps back. You want to say it’s not your fault, that you wouldn’t even have known that the rain affected him this way if you hadn’t seen him be nervous about it when you went home from the gala last year. But you think about the way his eyes looked earlier, how they filled with worry and fear, like there was a sense of powerlessness that you know a little about.

So you settle for a bit of grace and understanding, thinking they’re what he needs.

“I don’t know why this is on me,” you say softly. “I didn’t know how bad it was but if I did, I would’ve checked constantly and I would’ve had us turn back the second I saw that forecast. And if I could drive, I’d drive us back as fast as I could. I’m sorry.”

He slows his breathing and sits up. His hands still tightly gripping the wheel but his eyes are downcast, and you suppose there’s more sadness than anger, so you stop pressing your nails on your skin, which you’d started doing in anticipation of him arguing with you about it.

“I don’t like the rain,” he shares, his voice low. “I… I have a bad memory of it as a kid and I just get reminded whenever it starts. I panic when it gets louder and I just… I can’t stay out here when that's all I can hear.”

His honesty surprises you. You can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for him, even more that he has to suffer through this right now in front of you, considering how hard it is for him to express how he feels. You don’t know how bad this weather is gonna go, and at this pace, the thunderstorm will probably reach you by the time you make it back to Seoul. So you do what you do best, and that’s to come up with options.

“There’s a guesthouse not far from here,” you say after checking the map. “It’s the closest one. We could spend the night there and wait out the rain. That’s better than being stuck here or continuing the drive back to the city.”

He nods in agreement, knowing there’s not much he could do. He doesn’t want to be stuck here; even more, he doesn’t want to unload on you nor have you witness how much worse it could be.

He keys in the address you give him while you call the property and ask if they still have available rooms. They do, so you reserve two and sigh in relief that that’s one problem solved.

You make it there in 15 minutes. Jungkook heads out the car first with the rain having eased up a bit, and you retrieve his luggage from the trunk, the one he keeps there for emergency trips and instances like this one. It has enough clothes for a day, and you’re glad that at least he has something to change into.

You make it inside and meet the owners then introduce yourself, stating that you reserved two rooms.

“I’m so sorry but we had to give up one of them,” the woman says. “A family came in with a baby and we couldn’t turn them away. The weather’s going to get worse tonight and we try to accommodate as many people as we can. I hope you understand.”

“That’s… that’s okay,” you say, knowing you would’ve done the same.

The thought of sharing a room with Jungkook feels too intimate and definitely not good for your heart, added to the fact that you’re probably not his favorite person right now, so you try to find a way out. You turn to the living room and see the sofa that’s big enough for you, so you ask if you can just stay there instead.

“Our cleaners will be using that space since they can’t go home due to the rain. I’m sorry again, Miss. Your room has twin beds so I hope that eases your worry somehow.”

“It’s fine, we’ll manage,” Jungkook says from behind you, hoping to the heavens that he will. He has one fear, and that’s you seeing how he really is during times like this.

He takes the key and walks up the stairs to the room you’re given. It’s spacious with a fair enough distance between both beds. He takes the one farther from the window then gets his clothes from his bag. It dawns on him that you don’t have your own with you, so he offers you his sweatshirt.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. “It’s gonna be cold and you’re gonna need it.”

“So will you. You can’t be in wet clothes, not in this weather.”

“It’s happened before,” you shrug.

“___, just take it,” he insists, placing the item on your bed. “I have a top here that I can wear and the blankets will be enough. This is loose but it’s at least better than damp clothing. And you can go ahead in the bathroom. I’ll just give Mr. Ri a call.”

You nod and head out, taking his jumper and the towel with you. You’re given some basic toiletries, and the warm shower is just what you need for that bit of comfort after a stressful evening. As you’re about to dress up inside, you hear a knock on the door.

“I asked the lady if they had spare pajamas for you and she gave me a set,” Jungkook says from outside. “I’ll leave them on a stool by the door.”

You wait for him to leave before getting them and putting them on. It’s a plain set of shorts and shirt that’s a little big but it’s way better than your damp skirt and blouse, which the owners offered to wash and dry for you for tomorrow.

You return to the room with Jungkook sitting on the floor, and you give him back his sweatshirt that he turns down.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t you get cold easily? You’ll need that.”

He walks out, barely meeting your eyes. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed when he returns half an hour later, the sight of him with damp hair in black sweatpants and a white sleeveless top doing things to you. But you shake the thoughts away, especially as he once again creates that distance. He doesn’t look at you when he settles in bed, nor when he switches off his bedside light, and definitely not when he turns around to face the other way. You sigh to yourself, feeling even more alone now with him acting like this.

You can’t really blame him though. Dealing with something that elicits painful memories is difficult, and you understand the tendency to isolate yourself and push people away when that happens. It’s what you do sometimes, but still, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you a little when Jungkook does this to you, considering how good your relationship has become, regardless of your stupid attraction.

Settling in your bed, you decide to turn around and face the window. You focus on the droplets creating their own artwork on the glass, in hopes that it’ll help you take your mind off Jungkook, even if he’s literally just a few feet away from you. The last thing you want is a strained relationship, and you hope that this doesn’t make him fall back into his old ways. Although he’s experienced a few stressful moments these past months, they weren’t personal, and you suppose situations like this are when his emotions truly come out.

The rain has gotten stronger again and you’re pleased that Jungkook isn’t awake for this, based on the soft snores you hear. You’re about to fall asleep, the sound hypnotizing you a little, but that’s when the first blare of thunder strikes, causing you to jerk in bed in surprise. It used to scare you because of what it reminded you of, but you learned how to manage it after the first hit; the succeeding ones are no longer triggering. In fact, you just think of how it used to drown out the sounds of what you were truly afraid of.

Just then, you hear distressed moans. The sounds of frantic breathing and shifts on the bed follow right after. And then there’s a restrained groan, like a call for help that doesn’t fully come out, and that’s what alarms you. You immediately get off the bed and rush to Jungkook’s side. You see that he’s still asleep, his body - now uncovered by the blanket - is tense, despite his efforts of turning about. The low sounds of almost-cries convince you that he’s having a nightmare.

Thunder hits once again and it’s much louder this time, eliciting another frantic response from Jungkook. He’s kicking the covers while gripping the sheets, and with another roar of thunder that causes him to scream, that’s when you decide to wake him up.

“Jungkook, hey, listen to me,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed and keeping his head still with your hands. You’re able to control him as he continues tossing and turning, repeating his name until he slowly opens his eyes. “Hey, you’re safe with me, okay? Just focus on my voice.”

He’s awake now and you see the worry in his eyes, but you talk to him calmly, wanting him to trust you. It works, as he nods and slows down his movements. But he’s still breathing heavily, his lips chattering and the rest of his body shivering.

You anticipate another hit of thunder, and you’re able to shield him from it, pressing your palms on his ears, trying to drown out the sound. You stay that way, thumbing his temples as you tell him it’s okay, that you’ve got him, and that it’ll be over soon. You hold his gaze to let him know that you’re not going anywhere, and his pretty eyes that often look so far away are now overtaken with fear.

“Just look at me, alright? And follow my breathing,” you instruct him, your voice as gentle as you can make it despite your own worries for him.

He does as you say, his hands gripping your wrists as if to keep them there, and you assure him that you won’t let go until he says so.

“You’re doing good, just keep breathing,” you repeat, pacing your breathing with his until you’re doing it together.

You don’t know how long you stay that way, with his head between your hands and your eyes locked on his. It takes a while, but the thunder eventually stops and the rain eases. Jungkook finally calms down and you slowly release him from your hold. You watch him shut his eyes, as if in desperation to let everything go, before he opens them again.

“Is that better?” You ask, moving just a bit farther from him to give him space, but you remain close, wanting to be next to him in case something happens again.

“Yeah, that was, uh… that was tiring,” he huffs.

“I think the thunder has passed but if it happens again, I’ll be here, okay?”

He nods, his soft and desperate eyes now looking at you to express his gratitude. You want so badly to hug him, to hold his still-shaking hands and assure him that he’s not alone, that you won’t let anything hurt him for the rest of the night, and that you understand it all - whatever it is he’s afraid of, and why he keeps it all to himself.

But you suppose that’s going too far. You’re afraid that you’d want to stay there, even more if he doesn’t want you to. So you nod as well and think that he at least has this to comfort him, that he at least knows you’re just there.

You walk back to your bed and lie down, facing him this time. You smile, wanting that assurance to be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep again. Jungkook does the same as he settles under the covers, patting it down so he could see you better. You both stay there, safe in your corners, your eyes telling each other things you can’t say.

Whatever distance you felt earlier has shortened. Right now, with both of you falling asleep to each other’s view, he’s never felt so close.

The morning after heavy rain is always bittersweet. There’s the reality of the damage it caused but you also can’t deny that it gives life to other living things. What it also does is make way for clear skies and give you that fresh, rainwater scent of the grass and the trees. It’s what you see and smell when you open the bedroom windows, reminding you that the evening has passed and the worst is over.

You spot Jungkook seated on one of the chairs in the garden, and you hope that the view is making him feel better, with the nightmare from last night slowly drifting away from his mind. You dress up in the dry clothes you find hanging on the doorknob of the room then head downstairs, surprised to see food prepared in the dining area. The tofu stew and grilled mackerel are so appetizing, and the loud rumbling of your stomach reminds you that you didn’t eat last night, with all the stress making dinner your last priority.

“Hello, dear. It was a pretty hard evening so we prepared something for our guests,” the owner says, her radiant smile reflecting the brightness of the day. “You may call your friend outside so you can both eat and get ready for a long drive home.”

You thank her then call Jungkook, his eyes brightening when he walks back inside and sees the food. He engages in conversation with the owners, asking about this town and the surrounding ones, and what their appeal is to non-residents. You gauge that he’s doing a bit of research himself, and you think he’s at least not too out of it to still do so.

“You’re free to stay until noon,” the owner informs you. “You can enjoy the view outside; it’s really pretty now that the sky has cleared. I’ll be making tea shortly as well.”

Jungkook says he’ll return to the garden and you wait for the hot drinks before following him. You’re unsure if he wants you around but you try, sitting next to him then sighing in relief when he doesn’t move away.

“I was 10 years old when my parents sent me and my brother to a cabin somewhere in Hwasun,” he starts. “I thought they were coming with us but it was just me and Jeong-sik and some staff. He and I never got along. If he wasn’t ignoring me, he was teasing me. But that day, he convinced me to play hide-and-seek, saying that by the time he finds me, our parents would be back. We were outdoors and I ended up wandering too far, so close to the woods that I couldn’t find my way back. My brother hadn’t come and I was getting scared. And then it started to rain.”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“It started getting stronger and the skies had become so dark, I could barely see anything,” he continues, his eyes fixed towards the mountains faraway. “The rain made the ground slippery so I decided to just sit by a large tree and hope someone would find me. It felt like hours and maybe it was. The thunder was so loud then and it kept going and going and going. And I was drenched and all alone, and no matter how hard I screamed, no one could hear me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, feeling your heart break as he narrates a painful memory that you can relate with.

It’s only close to what you experienced yet it feels so real to you. You can feel his fear and his pain in the tremble of his voice, in the way he grips on the edges of the bench, in the way his jaw clenches at the memory, like it’s one he’s tried hard to bury yet can’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

But this feels so personal, and you don’t want him to feel like he needs to share it with you.

“You don’t have to explain,” you add. “I know it’s difficult to share something like that.”

“But I want to,” he responds, turning to you now. “Because I’ve carried the memory with me for 20 years and I’ve been dealing with it all on my own. But that’s not an excuse to treat you the way I did last night. That’s not a reason for me to take it out on you and especially to blame you. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry, ___. I…”

He looks down, perhaps trying to gather the courage he needs to be honest with you, to be vulnerable with you.

“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you because I did,” he adds. “I was scared and I didn’t think I needed you but you were there and I’m so sorry.”

You sit there and watch him cower onto himself, and somehow you see the little boy who was scared, who was wondering why he’d been left alone, who was waiting for someone to come find him or perhaps… someone to sit there and be with him until the rain stopped. There’s a lot he carries; there’s also a lot he buries, as if there’s a bottomless hole within him where he keeps everything hidden but it still feels too heavy, too much, taking from him every time he hides something new.

You don’t say anything for a while, as you start to see Jungkook for who he really is. You feel the weight of his words and how much it took for him to say them. It’s not that his experience makes him different, but now that you know the pain he’s been carrying with him, you’re able to see the other parts of him that he’s unable to show, perhaps too afraid that someone wouldn’t understand, or that they wouldn’t stay if they found out why he keeps his distance and why he pushes people away.

Your silence prompts him to look up. You meet his eyes and see the sadness in them and it feels like he needs more than just forgiveness.

“We do things we don’t mean to when we’re afraid,” you tell him. “It doesn’t always mean we intend on hurting them. And I understand that, more than you know. I’ll never take that against you.”

Jungkook nods, shifting again towards the view as he lets your words sink in. He was hoping for forgiveness, but he got so much more. Maybe there’s a reason why you’ve been patient and gentle with him ever since the beginning. Perhaps you’re carrying your own burden and painful memories that you’re unable to share and deal with, too, and though he’s nothing like you, there’s comfort in knowing that you’re the same somehow.

He senses you turn back to look at the mountains, and the silence prompts him to continue the story of an experience he’s only shared twice before - once to his best friends and another time with Chaerin, all of whom have seen this side of him - the scared and vulnerable side. They were understanding and supportive as well, trying to find ways to comfort and help him deal with it. You’re the third and the one he’s known the shortest time, yet he feels more comfort with you than anyone who’s ever tried.

“I fell asleep at that tree while waiting,” he recalls. “The next thing I know, I was being carried back to the cabin. The rain had stopped but it was still dark, and I was tended to until I fell asleep again. I was sick for days and I didn’t see my parents until we were back in Seoul. It’s just a hard thing to remember. I know we have selective memories and I always wish that’s one thing that I don’t ever have to remember but life isn’t that kind, I guess.”

“It isn’t. But we learn to face those fears though, and manage them. It’s the only way we can get through it,” you say.

“Have you?” He asks, wondering if that’s another similarity he shares with you.

“Not really. I wouldn’t be alone and where I am if I have,” you say. “But I’m trying. And I’ll continue to.”

“That makes one of us,” he sighs.

“Well, it’s not always easy if you’re not quite sure what you’re really afraid of,” you respond. “Is it just thunder?”

“Yeah… but once the rain starts, it tells me that thunder could come. It doesn’t always but it’s what my brain tells me. Then I get anxious and I… I don’t know what to do. Like I’m paralyzed and unable to think or move. I just… stay there and sometimes, I don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Well, it rained when I got injured,” you remind him. “But you managed to get me to the hospital. And you stayed with me. That’s definitely something.”

“You were hurt and it was more important that you got treated,” he reasons. “That was scary and I guess my brain told me to get shit done that moment.”

“So… do I always have to be hurt for you to get through the rain when it starts getting bad?” You ask.

“Don’t talk like that. I can’t have you going through that again,” he frowns at you.

The way he reacts to the thought of you being hurt gives you that warm feeling again. But it reminds you that you feel the same. You don’t want him to be scared, you don’t want him hurt, too.

“Fine. But when it starts to rain and you’re all alone and you feel like you can’t manage, you call me, okay?” You tell him.

“And what would that do?”

“That way I can talk you through it. Maybe go to you if you want me to.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because during the times I was afraid and alone, you were there,” you bravely say, turning to him and prompting him to do the same. “Sometimes something triggers those memories but then I think of how you stayed with me in the alley and in the playground and in my apartment. I think of you and I stop feeling scared. Maybe you can think of last night when it starts to get bad, too. And we can just create more of those memories to override the bad ones. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He savors your words, not realizing how much you’ve held onto your moments together. And he understands that now. The way you held him together last night is ingrained in his mind, and if that’s how it feels to be with you during his darkest moments, he starts to wonder how good it would feel during the good ones.

Maybe he’ll start with this, as you both sip citrus tea while looking at the lush mountains out on the horizon. He’ll continue with the scenic drive back to Seoul and a stopover at a cafe for some iced coffee and conversations about good memories. And at least for today, he’ll end with the sight of you walking to your apartment and then turning around to wave him goodbye, and then your smile giving him warmth on this cold afternoon.

The door shuts and he starts the trip back to his place - empty, lonely, just like how it’s been for years, all his pent up emotions bringing him to this point of isolation. But there’s you - the feel of your touch, the soothing sound of your voice, and the gentleness that got him through the night.

He misses you already. And much as he knows he’s in big trouble, thinking about you and wanting you is all he could do.

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verstappen-cult · 8 months ago

Text

# PINING IN ANTICIPATION | MV1

Neither you nor Max know how it started but it made you feel better and that was enough for him.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader. Content Warnings: +18, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming, a lot of feelings, hurt/comfort.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬 : okay, so, this was gonna be a porn without plot kinda drabble but this thing came out instead. please don’t expect anything fancy because i really suck at writing smut.

Max opens the door before you could even start to question yourself.

He’s surprised to see you knocking on his door at two in the morning. You start to regret coming to him when you see him rub the sleep from his eyes. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You look down, choking on a sob. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

Max is by your side in a second, wrapping an arm around your waist to guide you inside his apartment. He doesn’t let you go until you’re sitting comfortable on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you.

“Did something happen?”

“Had an awful fight with mom,” You fidget with your fingers, the corners of your eyes already filled with tears. “she said really mean things.”

Max reaches out and grabs your hand, thumb caressing the inside of your wrist. It’s not the first time something like this has happened, he’s very familiar with the relationship you have with your mother because it is pretty much the same relationship he has with his father. Actually, when you first met, you bonded over the awful parents and experiences you had as kids.

“Couldn’t stay home alone.” You say, shyly. “I’m sorry for coming at this hour.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

The silence stretches between you two. Max looks carefully as you get lost inside your head, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He can almost hear your thoughts. He knows what you need, the only thing that makes you feel better and gets you out of your head.

Max doesn’t know exactly how it happened. One moment you’re in the brink of an anxiety attack and then, in the blink of an eye, you’re sitting on his cock, face buried into the side of his neck as he rubbed your back up and down.

It wasn’t sex because you didn't kiss, there wasn’t some awfully awkward dirty talk and neither of you came at the end — well, not that you know. If Max had to lock himself in the bathroom after you fell asleep because he was still so painfully hard, it’s definitely not something you need to know; he still feels disgusting and will take that secret to the grave.

You didn’t talk to each other for at least two weeks after that. Max wanted to reach out but you were ignoring him, and he wanted to give you space to sort your head out. And when one day you sat down next to him and started to apologize and ramble about not wanting to lose him because he’s just so important in your life, Max was finally able to relax because you were fine. Everything was fine.

You had a long conversation. And it was that day when Max learnt that what you did was called cockwarning and it was actually something people do to feel better. For you, it was about feeling physically as well as emotionally close with the other person, so, that is why it was so easy for you to do it with Max, you felt safe and you trust him. You also explain to him how, when things are just too much, feeling that deep pressure inside of you as well as the warmth emanating from a body under yours is, somehow, enough to stop your mind from reeling with questions, and feelings, and emotions.

Max actually googled it. He opened an incognito tab and typed the words. He doesn’t know how much time he spent reading about experiences and actual studies about something that he had never heard of before. But it was like you said—many people do it because they feel safe that way, others because they don't want to think and it’s the only way they can relax and go into something called sub-space — Max didn’t do research on that because it was too much information and he just couldn’t handle it — while others do it just because they like it, no real meaning behind.

You promised it wouldn’t happen again.

And, well, you should’ve known better.

After the second time, you came to an agreement. Max would help you because he’s that good of a friend and cares about you. And because he didn’t want you to be looking for somebody else who could help you if you already felt safe with him.

He never found it weird, and you appreciate that.

So, now everytime you feel overwhelmed and can’t get out of your head on your own, Max is there to help you. Even if all you want is to just sit on somebody’s cock and pass the time, relax. He doesn’t care.

It’s good that after the second time he was able to gain some control and not embarrass himself and you in the process. Max still feels like, one way or another, he’s taking advantage of you and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to assure him that it is not like that and if you ever feel uncomfortable you will tell him.

“Y/N?” He rubs the palm of your hand but you don’t look at him. You don’t react, not when he lets go of your hand and kneels in front of you and not even when he cups your cheek with his hands. “Hey, Y/N, I need you to get out of that pretty head of yours. Could you do that for me?” Max sighs in relief when he finally sees your gaze focusing on his face after what feels like hours. “There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The corners of your mouth go up to form a sad smile.

“You need my help?” Max asks, thumbs caressing your cheekbones. You nod, but that isn't enough. “You know we don’t work like that. I need words.”

It’s not the first time that the way he speaks to you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve just become pretty good at ignoring it.

“Yes,” You breathe out, closing your eyes to center yourself and stop the whine threatening to leave your lips. “I need you.”

“Good,” He almost says Good girl, but holds his tongue. “You want to go to the bedroom?”

You shake your head. You don’t feel strong enough to walk there. “No, it’s okay. We can do it here.” You say in a small voice. “I’m really sorry for coming. “I’m fine, okay? I just need to relax an—”

“Hey, don’t, okay? I told you to come to me when you needed me. Night or day.” He reassures you, but you still feel like crying. “You think you can wait for me? I need to go get something.”

“No! Wha—why?”

Max tries not to laugh but you’re pouting and he finds it cute. “I need to get the lube,” Your pupils are wide and a faint bush covers your cheeks, because he doesn’t finger you to help make things easier, even though he has said he’s okay with it, you’re not. “I’ll be back in a second.” He leans to leave a kiss on your forehead before dissapearing.

You hide your face in your hands, breathing in and breathing out just like your therapist taught you. Only when you feel like you won’t pass out, you decide to speed things up by removing your jeans.

You don’t like feeling like this. It’s almost comical that after all this time, knowing how your mother is and how always will be, she still has so much power over you. A few mean words and you are ten years old again. You can’t hate her, she’s your mother after all, but you’ve tried, only God knows how much you’ve tried to hate her and not come back running back to her when she tells you some nice things. It’s a vicious cycle that not even with therapy you’ve been able to stop.

When Max comes back he finds you sitting on the couch only in your underwear. You avoid making eye contact, feeling a little embarrassed for not wearing your cute lingerie. You chastise yourself for going there because this is not about sex, and it’s definitely not the first time that Max has seen you like this.

When you look up, he’s already watching you. “You okay?” You nod, not trusting your voice.

You break eye contact when Max moves his hands toward the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You need help?”

You see Max smiling from the corner of your eyes. “No, I already took care of that.”

Max is quick to shove his sweatpants down his thighs and join you on the couch. He pats his thighs and opens his arms for you, and you’re immediately moving to straddle his lap. You steady yourself grabbing Max’s shoulders, hovering over his lap and looking up to the ceiling as he busies himself opening the lube and dripping some over his cock.

Your heart skips several beats as you look down to find him stroking himself to spread the lube. You’ve seen him do the same thing at least four times but you still feel like passing out every time you see his big and skilled hand move. Not for the first time you let yourself wonder how would his fingers feel inside of you.

Max grabs your waist with one hand and uses the other to run the tip of his cock through your folds. You close your eyes and stop breathing as he, finally and slowly, sinks into you. You bite your lips trying to get used to the stretch, Max rubs circles on your lower back as he lets you adjust. You’ve done this quite a few times but you’re still not used to it.

“You can—” You sigh, opening your eyes but Max is not looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He focuses his attention back on you, and smiles. You try to smile but your expression changes when you move all the way down, a whimper leaving your lips at finally having his cock buried deep inside of you.

Max groans, grabbing your waist with more force than normal before letting go and, instead, grabbing the cushions by his sides.

You lose the grip and wrap your arms around his neck, immediately resting your head on his shoulder and relaxing against his body. “Thank you.”

Max makes a weird noise, but you feel him nod. He lifts his hands and places them on your waist, fingers already caressing your back, sides and neck.

Max turns his head just enough to be able to leave a kiss on your cheek before going back to his initial position. He reaches for the remote and turns on the TV, choosing to put on some comedy film as a background.

The only thing you can feel and think about is his cock inside of you, making you feel so full, and the warmth emanating from his body, grounding you and, at the same time, making you feel like you’re floating around. There are no bad thoughts, you’re not thinking about the fight you had with your mom anymore.

You’re not actually too lost inside your head, the walk to Max apartment helped you clear your mind a bit. You’re still a little shocked by the words and things your mother did, definitely, but once you reached Max building, you were feeling a lot better. If you ended up coming up anyway, well, Max offered to let you sit on his cock overwhelmed or not and you wouldn’t let that offer pass. You don’t know how much time you have together because one of these days Max can find a girlfriend and you will have to go out and look for somebody as understanding as your friend.

The mere thought of Max with another girl makes you want to throw up. So, you shut your thoughts off.

You don’t know how much time passes, but your legs start to feel numb and your back hurts, so you shift your weight which makes Max whine, cock twitching inside of you.

“Sorry.” You whisper, stopping your movements.

“No, it’s—just,” Max closes his eyes tightly, and you can see a drop of sweat slipping down his forehead. “You just—” He groans, unable to say what he so badly wants.

You move from your place on his shoulder, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Max’s voice is hoarse and the smiles he gives you don't reach his eyes. “Just—lie back down, come on.” He pats your back but you don’t move.

“Max, tell me.” He shakes his head, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Max, it’s me.”

He sighs, straightening up. His sudden movement makes you both moan.

“It’s just that,” He takes a deep breath and looks you straight in the eye. “You feel really good.”

His confession makes you want to close your legs which, for obvious reasons, you can’t. You feel your face burning but try to play it cool, like his words didn't have an effect on you.

“Well, I mean, your cock is inside of me,”

Max's laugh is strained. “Yeah… I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of this. If you want we can stop and I—”

“Max,” You cup his jaw, feeling the stubble under your palm. “I’m good.”

Max closes his eyes again, this time letting his head fall backwards against the couch. “You know the first time we did this,” He swallows, and you’re mesmerized by the way his Adam's apple bobs. How would it feel to kiss it? “I, God I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud.”

“Max, come on. Just say it.” You let your fingers fall from his jaw all the way to his neck, just above his Adam’s apple. You can feel under your fingertips how it moves when he swallows again.

“You will think I’m a perv,” He opens one eye, when you smile reassuringly he opens both. “Please don’t think I’m some kind of pervert but… I had to lock myself in the bathroom to,” He shrugs, doing the movement with his fist.

“What?” You tilt your head.

“To jerk off!” He says, frustrated. One of his hands leaves your waist to put it over his eyes.

You blink at Max.

He looks back at you between his fingers.

His confession makes you feel that something you’ve been trying to ignore ever since that first night.

“That is totally normal.” You don’t want him to feel bad, so reassuring him that it’s okay is actually the only thing you can do. “As I said, you’re buried inside of me, if you didn’t feel anything then that’s a problem.”

Max sounds a little more relaxed when he laughs again.

But then there’s silence and eye contact. The only sound in the room coming from the TV and your heavy breathing.

You feel that shiver running down your spine again, desire pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m sorry, I’m making this all awkward.”

“No, no. It’s good.”

Max raises his eyebrows in question.

You decide not to answer with words. Instead, you shift your hips, Max cock impossible deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” Max groans, closing his eyes tightly. His hands grab the cushion by his sides again but you want those hands on your waist, your breasts, all over your body.

“Max,” You whine, grabbing at his shoulder and feeling how tense he is.

“It’s okay,” He breathes in and out, just like you were doing not so long ago. “it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

You frown, “Max.” You try calling his name again, when he opens his eyes you can see how much his eyes have darkened.

Max sucks in a sharp breath when you steady yourself by grabbing his shoulders to lift yourself up, pulling almost all the way out and letting yourself fall back down. Max’s moan is obscene.

“I’m sorry, sorry, oh God, I’m sorry,” You babble, hiding behind your hands. What the fuck are you doing? “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey,” He calls your attention, taking your hands and pulling them away from your face. Max cups your jaw guiding your face to look at him. “You want this? I need you to tell me because,” Max gaze falls to your mouth and he brushes your bottom lip with the pad of his finger. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

You nod, but then remember that he likes to hear you. “Yes,” That’s all Max need because he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, almost hugging you, and lifting you to pull out and then fuck back in. It nearly leaves you breathless.

You gasp, grabbing onto him for dear life. It’s inevitable for you to look down and watch how his cock pulls out and then back inside, stretching you so good.

“Look at me,” Max says, grinding his cock deep inside of you. And you have no choice but to look back up at him. The expression of pure pleasure on his face makes you clench around him, which takes another obscene moan out of him.

He feels so good.

You want to tell him how good he feels. How good he’s fucking you but you’re only capable of incoherent sounds, moans and whimpers.

“Max,” You choke on a moan. One hand leaves your waist and slips under your shirt to pinch at one of your nipples. You actually have to put a hand over your mouth to avoid screaming.

“I want to hear you. Please, let me hear you.” Max practically begs and how could you deny him that? The next time he does it, you let him hear you. And probably the whole building too. “Good girl.” Your cunt squeezes him tightly as he rolls his hips into yours. “You like that, don’t you? You like being my good girl?”

“Yes, yes,” If you had the strength you would be bouncing on his cock, but you can barely hold onto him as he fucks you nice and hard. “Max, Max.” His name falls like a mantra from your lips. The squelching sound of him pounding into you, mixed with the moans and groans fills the air around you.

“You feel so good— fuck, so fucking tight.” Max groans into your ear. His thrusts are deep and rough, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head and nails dig into his skin, knowing you’ll leave marks that will last days.

Max leans closer and licks a stripe of sweat from your neck and, somehow, is enough to make you hit your peak. You walls clench around him, like you’re actually trying to suck the life out of him.

“Max, Max I’m so close,” At this point you don’t even know if you’re whispering or screaming, but Max hears you either way.

Max expertly finds your clit and, right on cue, your orgasm comes crashing upon you, warmth washing all over your body as Max keeps on fucking you, searching for his own release.

“That’s my girl,” Max breathes out, movements faltering. “I’m gonna come, fuck, gonna come inside of you.” Max feels his orgasm like he’s experiencing it for the very first time, like he was waiting for this moment his whole life. And he probably was, really.

Max squeezes his eyes shut, hips stuttering and your name falling from his lips as he spills inside of you. Your whole body gives up. You’re glad Max is there to hold you close to his body. He pants in your neck, both of you trying to catch your breath and thinking about what the hell has just happened?

“Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, leaving a kiss behind your ear. He doesn’t move more than to settle against the cushions with you on top of him and his cock still buried inside of you. And you feel so dizzy and stuffed full of his cum that the only rational thing you think about doing is to lift your head and kiss him.

Max whines into the kiss. He doesn’t care that the kiss is messy because you can’t coordinate and are so tired you feel your body going limp, but he lets you kiss him until you need to catch your breath.

He smiles softly at you. “That was good, uh? I bet you don’t even remember why you came here in the first place.”

“Oh, shut up!” Max likes making you blush, so he won’t ever shut up.

“You know,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, fingers lingering on your neck. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I always wanted to—“ He sighs, and you lean into his touch. Max feels like his heart is about to explode. “I didn’t think I could ever have a chance with you.”

“What are you talking about?” You squeak because surely he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. Because that would mean—

“I’m saying that you are,” He kisses your cheek. “the most,” Now, he places a kiss on your chin. “beautiful, and smart, and sexy,” Max leaves kisses all over your face. “girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Finally, his lips find yours, but it’s quick and not enough. You want to keep kissing him for the rest of your life.

“Max,” You whisper, tears in the corners of your eyes. “You—I,” You groan, letting your head fall against his forehead. “You know I’ve been crazy for you my whole life, right?”

“No, that I did not know.” He’s teasing you, you hear it in his voice. “Well, maybe I had my suspicions.”

“Max! You never say anything?” A thought crosses your mind and you feel mortified. “I feel like I took advantage of you now.”

“What did you say to me? You would’ve told me if you weren’t comfortable. And I would’ve done the same thing.” You pout and Max can’t help but think, again, that you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world. “When all of this cockwarming thing happened, I thought it was the only way I could be close to you. And I was helping you in the process, so I was more than happy with being just that.”

“I didn’t keep coming back to you because of my feelings,” You start saying, playing with the collar of his shirt. “but because I’ve always felt safe with you. I knew—I know I can trust you. I mean, that became clear when you offered to let me sit on your cock the first time.”

“I did not do that!”

“You totally did!” You laugh with your whole body because you’re that happy. But that makes you shift your hips which makes you wince at feeling Max softening cock still inside of you.

“You good? It wasn’t… too much?” He sounds insecure, you see it on his face too. It’s cute.

“It was pretty good, Max. If not I wouldn’t have let you fuck me.” Max rolls his eyes, chuckling, and you rest your head on his shoulder one more time.

“You want me to pull out?”

“No, just—hold me, okay?” Max makes a pleasing sound, lips finding your temple.

“Always.”

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